Latest news with #StevieParle
Daily Mail
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
TOM PARKER BOWLES reviews Town: ‘Five stars – it is an instant London classic'
Well, I sure wasn't expecting this. The vast, buzzy, glamour-drenched room with the tiled walls, gleaming red pillars and 1960s-style modernist ceiling that wouldn't look out of place in the lair of a Connery-era Bond baddie. There's blond wood, velvet banquettes and leather-topped tables. Hell, this is a place where even the pot plants look sexy. Welcome to Town, the new Drury Lane restaurant from chef Stevie Parle. Talk about coming back with a bang. I've long admired Parle's cooking, at Sardine, Dock Kitchen and Joy. He's one of those rare chefs who can mix dishes from disparate cuisines without ever compromising or dumbing down. At Town the menu feels essentially European with a few global flourishes – some homemade XO sauce here, a miso-flavoured dip there. The cooking is both simple and sophisticated; a chef and kitchen at the very top of their game. We start with sage leaves, deep-fried and drizzled with chilli-infused honey, a dish that seems dull on paper but turns out to be crisp, chewy and rather addictive. His take on gildas, that classic Basque pintxo, replaces anchovy and olive with soused mackerel and shiso leaf. It works, managing to retain that essentially salty, umami allure. Potato sourdough bread, light and freshly baked, arrives with a pot of pan-drippings gravy, complete with scraps of meat, that coats the lips with a lustre of sweet fat. You can never have enough gravy. Sea bass crudo is lithe, clean and impeccably fresh, bathed in an artfully acidic tomato water: a dish of exquisite poise and balance. T-bone steak, lustily seasoned and magnificently meaty, comes from Wildfarmed, a farm with an admirably regenerative philosophy and one that translates into a very superior piece of beef. God, I love this place. The food, the service, the room, the cocktails, the seductively dim lighting… In the interests of transparency, one of the backers, Jonathan Downey, is a friend. Which means I have to judge it all the more exactingly. Town certainly isn't cheap, but food of this quality rarely is. 'It's a bit off-grid,' says a well-informed industry insider at the next table. 'But this could make the wrong end of Drury Lane very cool indeed.' Town has only been open a couple of weeks, but feels like it's been here for ever. It is, in short, an instant London classic.
The Guardian
01-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Town, London WC2: ‘This place is a feeder' – restaurant review
Off to Town this week, on Drury Lane. Yes, a restaurant called Town, one word, so a bit of a challenge to find online. Then again, perhaps by the time you're as experienced and beloved a restaurateur as Stevie Parle, formerly of Dock Kitchen, Craft, Sardine, Palatino and Joy, your regular clientele will make the effort to find you. Parle's shtick, roughly speaking, is thoughtful, high-end Mediterranean cooking and warm, professional hospitality, so the longer I thought about him opening a new place in London's theatre heartland and calling it just Town, the more it made sense. The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. Learn more. Yes, Town may be up at the less pretty end of this famous road, next door to a Travelodge and in the shadow of the lesser-known Gillian Lynne theatre, but whenever I hear the words 'Drury Lane', I'm whisked back to the impossible glamour of the start of the Royal Variety Performance on the BBC and people in tiaras exiting Rolls-Royces. Drury Lane, the commentator used to say, was the glitzy epicentre of London town, and Parle's new restaurant certainly captures some of the essence of that yesteryear ritz. It's a big, beautiful, ballsy, expensive-looking beast; a sleek, capacious, ever-so-slightly Austin Powers-esque, shiny-floored, caramel-coloured pleasure palace. It has a vivid, neon-green brightly lit open kitchen and thick 3D burgundy wall tiles that speak of expensive ceramic deliveries from the genre of Italian supplier that makes Kevin McCloud clutch his face and sigh, 'Well, this spells problems for the budget.' Thankfully, the budget for Town's decor – and how many portions of deep-fried sage leaves they need to sell to recoup it – is not my problem. All I know is that I was having a jolly old time from the second I sat down to sip on a naked flame non-alcoholic cocktail while feeling like Princess Michael of Kent circa 1988 hiding from a Royal Command Performance. And that was before I'd even glanced at the menu to choose between Town's cod and clam curry with mussels, rhubarb and ghee flatbread and the Welsh lobster with lardo and house XO sauce, or indeed found room for the morello cherry clafoutis with thick cream. Town's menu, I should warn you, is not for anyone with a meek appetite, or those hoping for a Slimming World Body Magic award by the summer. Example: the fresh, warm potato sourdough from the 'snacks' section of the menu comes with a bowl of bone marrow dipping gravy. Order Parle's signature fried sage leaves, and they'll arrive drizzled with heather honey. If you attempt to hide away with the 100-Acre radishes, they come in a thick puddle of miso hummus. This restaurant is a feeder. Other snacks are the likes of gildas, caviar with homemade beef fat crisps and Coombeshead's cured mangalitsa shoulder. Initially, I suspected that Town might be a pre-theatre restaurant designed to scoop up tourists in search of a deal, but it turns out that the food is far too good to rush through in an hour. And anyway, does anyone really want to sit through two and a half hours of Much Ado About Nothing after devouring a whopping great portion of sublime Kashmiri saffron risotto with yet more bone marrow, or a huge pork chop with seasonal onions, a rich, burnt apple sauce and hot mustard? Both of those dishes were finely executed, eminently devourable and teetering on the edge of a bit bloody much. We shared a side of beef fat pink fir potatoes that held good on their promise, because each one came enrobed in thick, bottom-of-the-tin, Sunday lunch-style beef fat. Right now, Town is manageably quiet, but it won't be for long, and nor should it be. Service is bright, crisp, clever and unobtrusive, and the prices are, dare I say, reasonable by London standards these days. There are a hundred places where the hopeful theatreland diner can be ripped off in this postcode, but Town to me is already a trusted friend. The dessert menu offers no let-up on the excess, extra thought and ecstasy, either. We shared a single scoop of pale green Uji matcha ice-cream festooned in crunchy brittle and perched in a pool of sweet miso caramel. Then, the star of the show, a hot-from-the-oven, damp, sticky cherry clafoutis served with much, much too much clotted cream. Parle has taken to theatreland with another sterling performance: a great first act, a strong middle section and a thoroughly satisfying denouement. Unmissable. Five stars. Town 26-29 Drury Lane, London WC2, 020-3500 7515. Open lunch Mon-Sun, noon-3pm; dinner Mon-Sat, 5-10pm. From about £60 a head à la carte, plus drinks and service
NZ Herald
30-05-2025
- Business
- NZ Herald
Ozempic effect: Restaurants adapt with smaller desserts amid diet trends
OPINION 'We're definitely noticing an Ozempic effect,' the chef Stevie Parle told me recently. He was talking about planning the menu for Town, his new restaurant in London's Covent Garden. When it comes to desserts, in particular, restaurateurs can no longer rely on diners to gorge themselves on pud
Yahoo
21-05-2025
- Health
- Yahoo
We need to eat more dessert. Ozempic is crushing the hospitality industry
'We're definitely noticing an Ozempic effect,' the chef Stevie Parle told me recently. He was talking about planning the menu for Town, his new restaurant in Covent Garden. When it comes to desserts, in particular, restaurateurs can no longer rely on diners to gorge themselves on pud at the end of a meal. Unlike other prescribed substances, the new wonder drug turns its users into models of restraint. They drink less, eat less, gamble less. One glass, a couple of chips, just a coffee: we are becoming a world of disciplined dowagers. It is good for the waistline and the health service. Recent reports suggested that Ozempic and its competitors could save the British economy £5bn a year. But it is a challenge to chefs and restaurateurs, for whom dessert has always been a reliable margin-booster. Combined with rising costs and weaker booze sales, it makes it harder than ever to scratch a living in hospitality. We are only at the start of the Ozempic era. All the same, it has still been enough to force the once-mighty WeightWatchers into bankruptcy. They say this is a restructuring move and the future is still bright, and will include their own branded pills, but it is a sign of just how much the world will change. When these things are widely available in pill form, which is apparently imminent, the increase in uptake will be exponential. Parle is getting around the issue by including a range of smaller puddings, which permit a few indulgent bites without being such a calorific investment. There are little cuboid canelés (they're called kashi on the menu), flavoured with whisky and tea, priced at £3. 'I like that,' he says. 'You might as well, order one, right? With coffee?' Or you can order a small chocolate tart for £6 instead of the full-size £12 version. He is not alone. Restaurants around the country are coming up with similar solutions. After dinner at the Double Red Duke in the Cotswolds recently, I attempted to bat away the offer of pudding. (Before we get letters, I am not on Ozempic, I was just full.) How about a tiny cube of fudge, our waitress countered. Oh OK. Who could say no to a tiny bit of fudge? Their menu even has a separate section, 'something small & sweet', which at the time of writing features salted caramel chocolates and blackcurrant jellies, both at £4. Larger groups have had this approach for a while. The Brunning and Price pub group, which operates across the North West and north Wales, offers a selection of 'hot drink and mini puddings' with miniature versions of their classics. Vintage Inns does something similar. Patissiers are thinking small, too. At Naya, in Mayfair, co-founder Cengizhan Ayan says their new smaller range, including miniature croissants and eclairs, has been instant bestsellers. 'People are more health-conscious,' he says. 'But it also helps with visual display – you can lay out 20 rather than 10. And it looks better aesthetically to have two little eclairs with your tea or champagne rather than one large croissant.' In pastry displays, as with weight-loss jabs, smallness is a potent advertising tool. Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
Telegraph
21-05-2025
- Health
- Telegraph
We need to eat more dessert. Ozempic is crushing the hospitality industry
'We're definitely noticing an Ozempic effect,' the chef Stevie Parle told me recently. He was talking about planning the menu for Town, his new restaurant in Covent Garden. When it comes to desserts, in particular, restaurateurs can no longer rely on diners to gorge themselves on pud at the end of a meal. Unlike other prescribed substances, the new wonder drug turns its users into models of restraint. They drink less, eat less, gamble less. One glass, a couple of chips, just a coffee: we are becoming a world of disciplined dowagers. It is good for the waistline and the health service. Recent reports suggested that Ozempic and its competitors could save the British economy £5bn a year. But it is a challenge to chefs and restaurateurs, for whom dessert has always been a reliable margin-booster. Combined with rising costs and weaker booze sales, it makes it harder than ever to scratch a living in hospitality. We are only at the start of the Ozempic era. All the same, it has still been enough to force the once-mighty WeightWatchers into bankruptcy. They say this is a restructuring move and the future is still bright, and will include their own branded pills, but it is a sign of just how much the world will change. When these things are widely available in pill form, which is apparently imminent, the increase in uptake will be exponential. Parle is getting around the issue by including a range of smaller puddings, which permit a few indulgent bites without being such a calorific investment. There are little cuboid canelés (they're called kashi on the menu), flavoured with whisky and tea, priced at £3. 'I like that,' he says. 'You might as well, order one, right? With coffee?' Or you can order a small chocolate tart for £6 instead of the full-size £12 version. He is not alone. Restaurants around the country are coming up with similar solutions. After dinner at the Double Red Duke in the Cotswolds recently, I attempted to bat away the offer of pudding. (Before we get letters, I am not on Ozempic, I was just full.) How about a tiny cube of fudge, our waitress countered. Oh OK. Who could say no to a tiny bit of fudge? Their menu even has a separate section, 'something small & sweet', which at the time of writing features salted caramel chocolates and blackcurrant jellies, both at £4. Larger groups have had this approach for a while. The Brunning and Price pub group, which operates across the North West and north Wales, offers a selection of 'hot drink and mini puddings' with miniature versions of their classics. Vintage Inns does something similar. Patissiers are thinking small, too. At Naya, in Mayfair, co-founder Cengizhan Ayan says their new smaller range, including miniature croissants and eclairs, has been instant bestsellers. 'People are more health-conscious,' he says. 'But it also helps with visual display – you can lay out 20 rather than 10. And it looks better aesthetically to have two little eclairs with your tea or champagne rather than one large croissant.' In pastry displays, as with weight-loss jabs, smallness is a potent advertising tool.
