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Review: Annabel’s, Mayfair

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Annabel’s Mayfair. Photo courtesy of NHYM 2018.

A few weeks ago, a new giant opened in town: the newly renovated Annabel’s on Berkeley Square, inhabiting 26,000 square feet in the middle of Mayfair, with a £60 million renovation price tag on it. Of course when the opportunity came up to go, I said ‘yes’ faster than a Londoner says yes to sunshine. And it is spectacular, in so many ways. There are not a lot of places that could pull off a pale pink staircase with a hot air balloon suspending a white unicorn in the air. But Annabel’s manages to pull it off.

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Annabel’s Staircase hot air balloon. NHYM 2018. 

Richard Caring who re-opened this club seems to have one thing in mind: to blow out any of the competition out of the water. What I mean by that, is that he clearly hopes Annabel’s takes over as London’s newest, brashest, boldest and beautiful private member’s club, luring members away from the Arts Club and 5Hertford Street. And so far, it looks like he is doing a good job.

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We ate on the ground floor in their piece de resistance outdoor garden which has a retractable roof and it was a beautiful, balmy evening that you could be anywhere, in Miami, or the South of France or Italy, or right here in London. It is a mix of Richard Caring’s Ivy Chelsea garden with plants, flowers, trees, flora and fauna but with the Arts Club’s polished elegance. The food? Well, the food was secondary, I only had eyes for that garden, but it was still good in an Ivy-kind of way.

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Upstairs bar courtesy of the internet/Sunday Times. NHYM 2018. 

Upstairs, there is a lush, colonial opulence in the Elephant Bar, with images of elephants everywhere and a colourfully painted jungle wallpaper. Next to it is a private dining room with what looks like a giant Italian murano chandelier hanging from a ceiling full of carefully carved cornices and there is another private dining room which looks like a white wedding venue.

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Women’s bathroom Annabel’s NHYM 2018.

Oh and the women’s bathroom on the 1st floor is just the most Instagrammable bathroom I have ever seen: the ceiling is made of thousands of roses, the swan taps trickle with water into pink sinks and the lighted mirrors make you feel just like a star. You could just bring the party in there and spend the whole night here.

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Ceiling of roses Annabel’s NHYM 2018. 

The place is huge – upstairs is the Mexican, which has a cosy, but completely different feel to the rest of the club, and downstairs is the nightclub, which has a small dance floor and lots of place to have dinner. Right now, there is plenty of buzz around Annabel’s that I’ve already been twice in one week, but I wonder how it will stay full once the buzz has died down. We managed to dance to some oldies-but-goodies, from ‘Bamboleo!’ to ‘It’s Your Birthday,’ which brought me back to 2003. I hear that they are trying to lure a younger crowd, but so far, I haven’t seen it happen and feel comfortably not-too-old there. It is still very much an ‘older-crowd’ territory.

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Wallpaper in the nightclub courtesy of the internet. NHYM 2018.

Annabel’s is a design feat. The mixtures of colours, themes, art and decoration manages to come together and make something spectacular, but at times overwhelming. It is the opposite of minimalist: Everything here is maximalist, from the loos to the walls.  Everywhere you turn, there are intricate details and designs that have been carefully thought out and the place could be considered completely garish, but somehow these over-the-top themes, colours and details work together. So for a fun night out in a group, Annabel’s is great. Just don’t expect monochromes and geometry here, it’s all about letting your imagination run wild.

xx

NHYM

http://www.nottinghillyummymummy.com

@NHyummymummy

 

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Restaurant Review: Sexy Fish

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All photos are NHYM apart from this one, generously borrowed from the restaurant’s website. NHYM 2016.

Sexy Fish

Berkely Square

London W1J 6BR

0203 764 2000

http://www.sexyfish.com

Design: 4.5 stars

Food: 3 stars

Service: 3.5 stars

Atmosphere: 4 stars

Overall: 3.75 stars 

‘I have never seen a restaurant whose ethos is so clearly and comprehensively, so preeningly and unapologetically: ‘Fuck you, I’m rich and I want a golden cave and servants. I want a pony and all the hookers I can strangle. I want a pyramid of cocaine and an Audi -Quattro.’ It is like being punched in the face by Abu Dhabi.’

– quoted from the Spectator Review 28/11/15 http://www.spectator.co.uk/2015/11/sexy-fish-not-so-much-a-restaurant-as-a-museum-of-londons-rich/

After reading a review like that, well, you’ve just got to see it with your own eyes. Sexy Fish opened last year as one of the hottest new restaurants in town, trying to steal the celebrity limelight away from Chiltern Firehouse, and has seen everything from Popstars (Cheryl ex-Cole, ex-Versini), Models (Kate Moss at the opening), Rock Royalty (the Jaggers were there 2 days ago for Georgia May’s 24th), to a private party full of politicians including dear old David (Cameron). Rita Ora sang at its opening party and VIP keys were handed out in advance. All ingredients to make it the latest trendsetter in the restaurant world.

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Bronze cast Damien Hirst statue on the bar. NHYM 2016.

It is the latest venture by Richard Caring (RC for this post) and his ever expanding restaurant-empire-cum-restaurant-chain. He is trying to take over the Mayfair restaurant scene and he is certainly making a statement. Firstly, we’ve got to address that oxymoronic name: Sexy Fish. A fish will never be sexy, but RC manages to make his restaurant pretty sexy-slutty: sexy bronze mermaids by Damien Hirst at the bar, climbing crocodiles by Frank Gehry, a parterre of onyx from Iran, and an actual waterfall behind his bar. Ok, completely over-the-top ostentatious, but you’ve got to love it. Downstairs in the private room are two glowing aquariums with multitudes of glow-in-the-dark fish ready for an after-party.

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Main dining room NHYM 2016. 

The Design

The dining room is art-deco, brasserie style with a large crocodile on the back wall designed by Frank Gehry, whom you will recall did the fish sculpture next to The Hotel Arts in Barcelona. It is quite a large room where you can scan your neighbours easily, with Matisse-inspired patterns on the ceilings in burgundy and gold.

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The very friendly bartender. NHYM 2016.

But the bar is by far my favourite part of the restaurant. It is large, sexy and is framed by overhanging white delicately sculpted fish above and blue mermaids on either side and yes, there is a waterfall in the back. When we arrive at the touristy hour (i.e. anytime before 8pm), there isn’t much atmosphere and it is largely catering tourists. But by the time we leave, the bar is buzzing, the vibe is cool, and the DJ has started spinning. This is really the time to show up.

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The Menu. NHYM 2016.

The Menu & the Food

The menu reads like many of the Asian-fusion/Japanese restaurants that first emerged in the 90’s starting with Nobu and still keep coming (Kurobuta). There is nothing creatively new on this menu, it follows a tried-and-tested formula of Nobu-Zuma-Roka-Novikov dishes. We order a bunch of sharing plates including the yellowtail sashimi, the Sexy Fish roll, tuna tartare, maple glazed pork belly skewers, duck salad and the famous Miso Glazed Chilean Seabass.

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Miso Seabass and Maple-Glazed pork belly. NHYM 2016. 

The food is unfortunately a let-down. It all looks beautiful, sounds beautiful and should be beautiful, but sadly, there is something missing. It isn’t bad, but falls flat compared to the other restaurants I have aforementioned. Usually, when you go to Nobu/Zuma/Roka, you are enlivened by the tastes and combination of flavours, but not even the famed Miso Seabass could do that for me. The only standout dish for me was the maple glazed pork belly skewer which melted in your mouth and was perfectly sweet and salty. The rest was ‘good’ but unfortunately quite forgettable.

The service gets some low marks just because we were ‘evicted’ before we could order the molten chocolate cake which we wanted to try. Next time.

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Sexy Fish Kitchen. NHYM 2016.

The Verdict

We managed to spend 4 hours at Sexy Fish, which meant that something worked. Sexy Fish combines the right ‘menu,’ the right location, the right brasserie-style design and the right amount of slebs to make it a success. The food isn’t what you’re after here, the main attraction is the bar and of course the people-watching. It’s a fun, lively spot that starts to get going around 10pm, and if I were to go again, I’d probably skip the food and head straight to the bar for a martini while I ogle all the hedge-funders and their mistresses for entertainment purposes. After all, it’s cheaper than flying all the way to Dubai.

xx

NHYM

http://www.nottinghillyummymummy.com

@NHyummymummy

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Sexy Fish Menu, Reviews, Photos, Location and Info - Zomato

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Review: Private Member’s Club, The Arts Club

Quote of the Day: ‘Hello! Is it me you’re looking for?’

Arts club (Photo courtesy of NHYM Copyright 2014)

The Arts Club

40 Dover Street

London W1S 4NP

02074998581

http://www.theartsclub.co.uk

Food: 4.25 stars

Design: 4.5 stars

Ambience: 4 stars

Service: 4 stars

Value for Money: 3.5/4 stars

Overall: 4.25 stars

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(Ground floor restaurant. Photo courtesy of the internet)

Lately, I have been going to the Arts Club on a weekly or biweekly basis, after not going for almost a year. But then all of a sudden, everyone seems to want to go; guests from out of town, girls dinners or those wanting to try Kyubi, the – relatively – new delicious Japanese on the roof, which is now one of my firm favourites. Perhaps it’s a backlash to the Chiltern Firehouse craze and just wanting the simplicity of an easy reservation made on Friday morning for Friday night, and a predictably good meal (which is not always the case at Chiltern). The great thing about the Arts Club is that you never know what kind of night you’re going to have or who you’re going to sit next to, which creates a never-ending curiosity. Last week, I had Lionel Ritchie sitting next to me. I had to stop myself from singing ‘Hello! Is it me you’re looking for?’ and telling him all the great memories I’ve had with his songs as a young, hot-blooded teenager. With celebrities, you always feel a familiarity and intimacy that they of course  sense as ‘obsessive crazy fan.’ Luckily, I stopped myself just in time. In any case, at the Arts Club, you never know if you’ll have a night of octogenarian, zimmer-frame grannies & grandpas, arms dealers from somewhere far East or South, Russian billionaires, Mark Francis Vandelli of Made In Chelsea (actually, he is there nightly, usually at the ground floor bar), Naomi Campbell or some kind of HRH Beatrice/Eugenie/Philip/Harry.

The Club

The Arts Club is housed in a beautiful building on Dover Street (home to Mahiki, Mayfair Club and the new Victoria Beckham store). It was co-founded by Charles Dickens in 1863 and has had a myriad of artists and patrons guests and members over the years such as Turgenev, Rodin and Degas. It is currently over 4 different floors: the basement Club Nouveau Nightclub has heard impromptu guests like Gwenyth Paltrow and Ronnie Woods performing and is now advertising private concerts with performers like Will.i.am and Lauryn Hill. The ground floor restaurant, the Brasserie, is a glamorous, art deco room with a clientele mix of everything from Joan Collins, Roman Abramovic to Pamela Anderson look-alikes. There is a lot of trout here, no, not on the menu, just in the form of trout pouts. The outdoor seating area is a garden of delight, for balmy summer evenings.

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(Outdoor garden. Photo courtesy of the internet)

The bar on the first floor is a rounded bar leading to another dining area, with a similar but shorter menu from the ground floor restaurant. It tends to have a slightly younger crowd, full of girls dinners, hedge fund managers, and women wearing more porn-than-prude clothing. My inner granny self wants to cover them with a pashmina and tell them to go home to a nice cup of tea. Finally, the rooftop is home to Kyubi, a Japanese with offerings similar to Nobu/Zuma. The best part of this restaurant is the roof-terrace area, which takes you to a rooftop Riad in Morocco. Except with sashimi instead of tagine.

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(Roof terrace at Kyubi. Photo courtesy of the Internet)

The Food

The menu at the Arts Club, created by one of the chefs from ‘La Petite Maison,’ offers some great staple dishes with great flavours. If you like La Petite Maison, you will most likely like the food here. The menu is extensive with about 12 starters, an entire section for shellfish (oysters and lobster), two types of tartares, and another 16 main dishes. This is a place you can come to over and over again without ever getting too bored too quickly of the menu, which is a plus for a member’s clubs. The food beats the Electric and 5 Hertford Street hands down purely on food. Some of my favourites are the escargots, yellowtail ceviche, and green bean starters, the steak tartare, the Club salad, and the herb crusted veal chop (delicious, the only place I actually allow myself to indulge in a poor-little-veal-meal). There are better-than-other dishes, so it’s just a matter of finding the ones that you fancy. It is piggy-bank-breaking expensive, so save those pennies.

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(Toro. Photo courtesy of the Internet)

The food at Kyubi is also delicious, featuring mini taco-type starter bites which are divine, the tuna avocado one is definitely one to order. The new stream sashimi, with different kinds of salmon and tuna sashimi with yuzu and citrus flavours are all mouth-watering (really, my mouth is salivating as I write this). The lobster tempura is worth it just for the visual sculpture of fried-noodle coral. You just have to see it. The plain sashimi is not their best asset, so i wouldn’t boast too much about it. The vegetable skewers of asparagus and mushrooms are similar to the ones at Zuma, I could eat them as a vegetarian meal with a little rice on the side.

The Ambience

Ah, the ambience. Like I previously mentioned, it is a revolving door of multi-cultural nationalities and personalities. Arabs mingle with Jews, Russians compete with Americans for how loud they can be, the Chinese and Nepalese (or wherever they were from) are either dressed in jeans and T-shirts or Chanel, the Nigerians like the gospel Sunday brunch. Every Super Rich nationality in London is represented here. It is what you could call a global, moneyed club, that only requires connections and a plush bank account for entry. Let’s say it how it is. This club is mostly for Art Patron members these days rather than for artists. The club was renovated in 2011 when its membership and bank account was dwindling to attract a glitzier, glamorous, wealthy crowd to inject ‘modern money’ into the club. With Gwenyth and her friends promoting the club in 2011, it was guaranteed to attract attention. Still, the club offers lectures in how to collect art, private views to the Royal Academy or the Frieze, and talks about fine wine and fashion (I recently missed a talk by Diane Von Furstenburg). There are even events for children, like Easter Parties, circus and painting events.

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(Club Nouveau. Photo courtesy of the Internet)

Apart from some wonderful events – that I always mean to go to but never go to – the people-watching is just conversation-stopping. Victoria Beckham just recently celebrated one of her 40th birthday dinners there with Gordon Ramsay et. al. Beyonce and Jay Z came as well last time they were in London. And then there are moments when you see the clientele and wonder ‘just where in the world are they from?’ There are women who are wearing not much more than Miley Cyrus on a good day. There are men who look like they are making some dodgy business dealings involving governments, commodities, arms and pipelines. It is a spectacle of cosmopolitan London, for those wanting to keep their dealings behind closed doors.

The Verdict

The Arts Club is an artfully decorated member’s club oozing glamour and coolness, in each of its restaurants, bars, and nightclub. The United Nations clientele provides endless entertainment, intriguing, beguiling and sometimes plain bizarre (Lady Gaga has been a guest). But the food is grown up and sophisticated modern European and modern Japanese at Kyubi. The best nights are during the week, in my opinion, with less B&T crowds. Soon, a 16 room boutique hotel will be opening to cater to the international overseas clientele who have memberships but don’t actually live in London. For a swanky and glitzy night out, the Arts Club rarely fails to deliver, so bring your out-of-town friends or parents for a night of people-watching and gawping, all for the cost of a small island in the Pacific.

Celebrities at the Arts Club, London, UK

(Lady Gaga outside the Arts Club. Photo courtesy of the Internet)

xx

NHYM

http://www.nottinghillyummymummy.com

@NHyummymummy

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Review: Private members club 5 Hertford Street

Private Members Club 5 Hertford Street

2-5 Hertford Street Mayfair, London W1J

Food: 2 stars

Atmosphere: 4 stars

Design: 4.5 stars

Price/Value Ratio: 1 star

Service: 3.5 stars

‘In London if you have £10,000,000 you’re poor’

Only in London and a place like 5HS or Loulou’s, as the cognoscenti like to call it, can you overhear someone saying that with £10,000,000 you are poor. This city never ceases to amaze me. I finally managed to fit in a dinner there after one year of hibernation post baby number 2 with Mr. C, my husband, and some Eurotrash friends. I had high hopes for this establishment, being lauded as a melting pot for celebrities, royals, billionaires and opened by Robin Birley in 2012, whose father was behind Annabel’s fame and mother was Lady Annabel Goldsmith.

Upon entering Loulou’s, first appearances satisfied the senses. The decor of thick fabrics, curtained doors, an eccentric oversized stuffed giraffe head, and bartenders in proper uniforms took me to a place where French boudoir meets Great Gabsy hedonism. The lights were so low that one could easily hide their flaws for the night. The scene was a smattering of older English aristocrats mixed in with American Hedge Funders, girls-night-out tables and twentysomething Eurocrats (Eurotrash aristocrats). Like Julie’s in Holland Park, there were small alcoves everywhere, perfect for hiding your mistresses or lovers. It was a good start to the evening. The Whiskey Bar was sexy and cool with lots of gold trimmings, although the cocktail I asked the bartender to make was nothing more than fruit juice mixed with vodka.

We found our table downstairs in Loulou’s, through a maze of stairs, curtains, alcoves and tables to a back room, which buzzed with conversations of term sheets and how much money you needed to feel rich these days. Completely obnoxious yet entertaining. Now for the food. The menu consisted of standard but unimaginative starters priced at £20-£30 and mains from £30-£40. For those prices I am expecting great food. Great food reminds you of places you have been through the memory of your tastebuds triggered by remembered tastes. The Arts Club menu charges similar prices but the food generally delivers. I was curious to see how this compared.

I ordered a starter of tuna tartare and the special of the day, lobster linguine. You can tell a lot by a tuna tartare, from the freshness of the ingredients to the chef’s mastery of flavours. A good tuna tartare in London is hard to find, California being the birthplace of tuna tartare, this one was married to an avocado layer. This version had bland, defrosted, chopped up tuna mixed with souring, stinging avocado. The chef must have forgotten the spices and left the avocado on the counter for too long. I was clearly more at a conveyor belt sushi chain than sitting in the Californian sun.

I chose a safer dish (or so I thought) as a main with my lobster linguine. We are closer to Italy and lobsters are easier to find in the Mediterranean than ahi Tuna so I hoped this would be an easier trip to make. To my disappointment, the pasta seemed to have been boiled from a bag of dry semolina pasta and the lobster was equally from a frozen bag, devoid of the sweet firmness of fresh lobster. The tomatoes were neither good nor bad, indicating a lack of awareness from the chef leaving the dish quite unremarkable and worthy of not much more than Carluccio’s. This was a far cry from the River Cafe’s delicate and freshly made pasta dishes made with carefully sourced ingredients, which managed to both ask yourself where you could find these tomatoes in London and simultaneously take you to a sunny terrace in Italy’s piazzas.

The desserts chosen by our host were sweet treats, sweet but lacking much character but by this time my attention and enthusiasm had considered wavered and I knew what to expect. Considering the cost of my meal, £22 for the starter, probably £40 for the main (the waiter omitted the price of the specials) and around £13 for a dessert, this is a place where if you start looking at the prices, you really shouldn’t be here because it will really leave you feeling sick. Therefore I opted not to look at the bill from fear of having to taste the tuna tartare again.

We then wandered to the main bar area of Loulou’s, another beautiful golden bar with white staffed bartenders, crammed with twenty year old rich kids with childish enthusiasm acting like they were in a music festival mosh pit only with Armani suits and Louis Vuitton handbags. This was my cue to leave. Our friends told us the party started later in the nightclub area and I could see the potential of a great night out of sweating, dancing, drinking shots, and dancing on tables being in a beautiful place full of beautiful people (helped by Botox, expensive clothes and dim red lights) but I was ready for an affair with my bed instead.

This place is perfect for those a) who don’t care what they eat or how much they spend on cafeteria food b) need a debaucherous night out away from their job/kids/husbands/wives or for their extramarital tryst c) aspirational twenty and thirty year olds dreaming of becoming the founder of the next big Hedge Fund or Net-a-porter. Next time, I will order a Gin and Tonic, which frankly would be hard to ruin, skip dinner, and hide in an alcove to listen and watch the outrageous crowd before heading to the dance floor.

Later, I sighed and turned to Mr. C in the comfort of our Uber Mercedes on our way home and asked ‘Am I too old for this?’ ‘Yes’ he replied, ‘you would have loved it at 20.’

xx

NHYM

http://www.nottinghillyummymummy.com

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