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The Guardian
14-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The Prince Arthur, London SW1: ‘Welcome to the bright new dawn of the turbo-bougie boozer' – restaurant review
The Prince Arthur is a fancy new restaurant in Belgravia that's rather hard to resist once you see the bones of what it has to offer. It has a Basque-born chef, Adam Iglesias, who has worked at Alameda near San Sebastián in Spain, as well as Brat, Barrafina and Sessions Arts Club in London. There you go: a plethora of foodie plus-points already. Then there's the fact that it's in a recently lavishly restored pub that feels a bit like an AI interpretation of the Queen Vic in EastEnders: there's a horseshoe bar, traditional wooden panelling, ales on tap, lots of standing room, a big TV screen for the sport and … wait! What? An iced seafood counter? Well, that'll be for the lobsters, carabineros, sea urchins and other fishy things to eat in the elegant, white table-clothed dining room just past the bar's standing area. Possibly you'll eat those urchins, or perhaps a devilled egg, topped with the Prince Arthur's in-house caviar, sourced via the London Caviar company. This place goes big on caviar, with 50g of Siberian baerii served with turbot-dripping potatoes and creme fraiche priced at £100. You'll have noticed that I have not called the Prince Arthur a gastropub, despite it clearly being gastronomical and being housed inside something resembling a pub. That's because we need a new name for this type of highfalutin hospitality venture. With pubs across the UK closing at a rate of knots, the days of publicans rebranding as simply 'one of them gastropubs' to survive are over. At one time, slinging a few £20 plates of beef cheek on polenta at customers and screwing a bottle of Aesop Resurrection hand soap to the toilet wall may have saved your soul, but not any more. Welcome to the bright new dawn of the turbo-bougie boozer. Yes, the Prince Arthur has the framework of a pub, with Jeremy Clarkson's Hawkstone beer on tap and pig's ear bar snacks and posh scotch eggs with mustard. But it is essentially a very sophisticated, Basque-influenced restaurant that serves txangurro crab, Galician beef rib and whole turbot with glossy, pale pil pil sauce, with torrijas and Basque cheesecake for afters. Please keep in mind that this is just downstairs; the new upstairs dining room promises to be even fancier. None of this, I must stress, is to my disliking. Ten minutes into lunch at this utterly lovable mega-posh pretend pub, and you will find yourself planning your return. From the first plate of gildas – skewered glossy olives, intricately folded anchovies and curls of green chilli pepper – I was smitten. These could be the world's best pintxo gildas, living their best lives in a back street near Victoria coach station. Then two neat squares of those fish-dripping potatoes with sea urchin, tuna and caviar. The devilled egg is a work of art: a boiled egg standing upright on the plate, its yolk creamed and piped back into it, then topped with more caviar. Suffice to say that by this point the bill was creeping up alarmingly, even though I could have balanced everything I'd eaten up to then on the back of a credit card. For mains, we shared that turbot, which was perfectly cooked and came with a world-class pil pil emulsification. A side of winter greens was disappointingly over-salted, though. Much better was a plate of wood-grilled pepper, a slimy, smoky mass of sweet, vivid, red loveliness. The Prince Arthur is by no means cheap, but it's worth it for a special occasion. The service is good, it's in a beautiful room with a fascinating clientele of Belgravia locals who certainly don't need to save the place for special occasions and, above all, the cooking is wonderful, especially if seafood is your thing. And, of course, there's that cheesecake, one of my favourite desserts ever, though I usually only ever eat it in summer, ideally in San Sebastián itself, where the temperature lends itself to a wander around the streets, pausing to eat wobbly, custardy, melting cheesecake out of a box. The Belgravia version was 99% there, and came with a thick winter berry sauce and enough caramelisation that I could almost feel the northern Spanish sun on my face. There's a lot to love about this restaurant, although, eventually, I fear, all surviving 'pubs' will be like the Prince Arthur. House caviar on the menu, £25 a pop carabinero prawns on the grill, Sky Sports on the big screen, and anyone remotely normally waged standing outside in the cold, staring through the window like Hans Christian Anderson's Little Match Girl, striking matches one by one while watching the world burn. The Prince Arthur 11 Pimlico Road, London SW1, 020-3098 6060. Open Tues-Sat, lunch noon-4pm, dinner 6-10pm; Sun noon-8pm. From about £70 a head for three courses, plus drinks and service The next episode of Grace's Comfort Eating podcast is out on Tuesday 18 March – listen to it here
Telegraph
20-02-2025
- Lifestyle
- Telegraph
So long, Aesop hand wash – these are the new middle-class status symbols to know about
These are not fun times for the middle classes. The best postcodes are harder to buy into, the Volvo can't be upgraded at whim and please don't even mention the school fees. Which is why it's all the more important to sweat the small stuff. You may not be able to stretch to two weeks in Tuscany, but you'll be damned if you forego your favourite soap. How else to signify that you're middle class? Certainly not via Noah and Livvy's school: they're at the local comp now, where the soap's by someone called Tork, and it aggravates their eczema. Social signifiers are important. As Dr Carolyn Mair, chartered psychologist and author of The Psychology of Fashion, observes, humans have evolved to survive and thrive in groups, leading us instinctively to seek connection. 'We gain a sense of belonging and self-worth from being part of a group, and aligning with that group's tastes and behaviours reinforces our membership and standing within it. Being up to date on certain products or cultural trends helps signal that we're aware of what's relevant in the moment. This can position us as socially competent or 'in the know', which is an evolutionary advantage in terms of social bonding.' And never more so than during hard times. 'We often buy items not just to display wealth but to seek belonging and gain social validation,' says Mair. Thankfully for those feeling the pinch, when it comes to middle-class status symbols, it's not simply about the spend. 'Smaller, thoughtful purchases can signify cultural capital,' adds Mair. 'Ultimately, the impact of our purchases depends on the motivation of others to engage with or recognise them. Without shared interests, these symbols may go unnoticed.' Are you keeping up with the Joneses – and are they middle class enough to twig? Read on to find out. Hand wash In: Verden Arborealist Out: Aesop Resurrection You will always have a soft spot for Aesop, but there are simply no more quips to be made about its Poo Drops – they were exhausted circa 2020. Loyal customer that you are, you've been forced to move on. That's life in the cut-throat world of downstairs loo one-upmanship: when a new guest comes to dinner, you never get a second chance to make a first impression. And so you've moved on to Verden, whose Arborealist hand wash emits a smoky, woody scent that feels right for now. At £35, it's slightly more expensive than Aesop, but you can't put a price on the impact derived from that chic bottle. Crisps In: Talloes Out: Torres Clearly, Torres' truffle crisps are the most authentically truffle-tasting crisps in existence. Granted, they now cost up to £5.99 a packet in some convenience stores (Shepherds Foods, you should be ashamed) but don't even think of 'economising' with the Tyrrells or M&S versions, which merely taste of mushroom and salt. But that's by the by. Ever since reading that vegetable oil will put you into an early grave, you've been forced to look for seed oil alternatives – not easy in the snack food world, where even high-end crisps are cooked in rapeseed, sunflower or vegetable oil. Happily, you've found an alternative: Talloes, handmade with only three natural ingredients, replacing seed oil with tallow from rendered chicken fat. Which doesn't sound too tasty, but what price longevity? £3.95 for 100g, since you ask. Socks In: Adanola gym socks Out: Nike sports socks Your teenager wears Nike sports socks hiked up to the calf, but you've never been convinced the look is right for a 52-year-old woman, particularly one that's 5ft 2in, and needs all the leg-lengthening help she can get. You've switched to Adanola gym socks, which are shorter, more flattering and worn by Rosie Huntington Whiteley, whose Autograph bras you love. Grains In: Amaranth Out: Quinoa It's all very well being able to see the world in a grain of sand, but William Blake didn't live in Queen's Park, where the neighbours see the world in a grain of grain, and judge accordingly. Ever since couscous gained a (very fair) reputation for being too farty, it's been ancient grains all the way. This year, it's all about amaranth, which is full of protein and fibre, obvs, but is also packed with manganese, iron and magnesium which midlife fans swear helps ease symptoms of menopause. 'Like HRT on a plate', says one. Outdoor wear In: Marfa Stance parka Out: Dryrobe You won't have a bad word said about the warmth and efficacy of your camo Dryrobe: it's just that everyone is wearing one to walk the dog, which wasn't the garment's intended purpose, and has made them all too common a sight in your local park. Granted, a £1020 parka is a bit outre for slipping on after a wild swim, but you're insouciant that way: clothes are meant to be worn and all that. Katie Holmes has one, and that's reason enough for you. Tote bags In: Hotel Il Pellicano tote Out: Daunt Books tote As a chic, inexpensive and effective way to signal your allegiance to a tribe, the cloth bag will never not be a middle-class staple. Daunt Books? Bit of a cliché. For 2025, Issimo's Hotel Il Pellicano tote is perfect for those who yearn for Italy, but can't afford the Pellicano's hotel bill. Scents In: Perfumer H incense Out: Jo Malone candle Darling Jo – a friend of a friend of a friend – is a genius whose Lime, Basil & Mandarin candle will always remind you of happy times. It's just that incense sticks chime better with who you are, aka a frazzled midlifer with a penchant for meditation, or at least its outward signifiers. Made in Kyoto, Perfumer H provides incense for the local Buddhist temples and monasteries, and is made without dyes or chemicals. Which is more than can be said for many candles. Trainers In: Toteme Chunky simply isn't funky any more, darling – your trainers have to be sleek, minimal and not of obvious provenance. Leave the Adidas Tokyos and Nike Cortez to the teens, and swear your allegiance to cult Swedish brand Toteme's suede low-tops in beige (£320) – or if you're really poor, Cos's 'minimal' suede trainers in mocha (£95). Musicians In: George Michael Out: Fred Again After the umpteenth friend used Adore U to soundtrack their child's 16th birthday reel on Insta, you can't really play Ten Days at your dinner parties any more. Now that Father Figure has been featured in every middle class mum's favourite smutty movie du jour, Babygirl, it's given you permission to play Faith again – always a favourite. Spices In: Dukkah Out: Turmeric Obvs, you're still downing your Moju shot every morning, but the spice itself? You're sick of it staining your wooden spoons. Nigella has convinced you to convert to dukkah, which you've been throwing over everything, while mispronouncing it to rhyme with 'duck' Dogs In: Rescue greyhounds Out: Cockapoos, maltipoos, cavapoos, yorkiepoos, schnoodles and goldendoodles You love Mabel / Betty / Rita, you really do, but no modeish retro girl's name can disguise the fact that she's a designer dog, bought from a breeder, as opposed to having been found wandering on a dirt track in Thailand – which, frankly, is a far more compelling backstory to recount at lunch than 'we bought her from a nice woman in Clacton for £1200'. Of course, that's not the point. The point is that it's immeasurably cooler – sorry, kinder – to re-home a rescue dog. Social media In: Bluesky Social Is anyone using X (formely known as Twitter) any more? You wouldn't know. Long before Elon banned Kanye (you feel we're all on first name terms by now) from X for his latest vile tirade, you'd already defected to Bluesky, which is the new Threads, but with a more optimistic and uplifting name that bodes well, you hope, for measured debate. You only have nine followers, but it's early days.
