Kitchen at Holmes review: chefs and open kitchen take centre stage

What’s more important to you when eating out: an electric atmosphere that makes you feel alive and connected with the room around you, or a menu that speaks to your inner desires of comfort and satisfaction?

Of course, the two shouldn’t be mutually exclusive, but locating the sweet spot isn’t as easy as it sounds. As the name suggests, Kitchen at Holmes in Marylebone, London, puts its kitchen centre stage. The tone that sets for the experience is mixed, but at least it stars talented chefs who will make discerning diners happy by treating them as equals, which is far rarer than it should be.

The premise

An open kitchen is less of a restaurant trend and more a reflection of how modern life has evolved. The next time you browse Zoopla or The Modern House for your fix of interior voyeurism, take note of how central the kitchen is to contemporary living. Wherever we eat – at home or out – we enjoy being immersed in our mealtime ritual now more than ever, even if we’re not the ones doing the cooking.

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In the Holmes Hotel, everything is funnelled towards the eponymous kitchen. From the entrance on Baker Street, you’re drawn to it via a routinely swanky hotel bar and a sleek dining room, where marble-topped tables sparkle and elephant-grey chairs match the panelled walls. Not a hair is out of place.

Eventually you’ll find a small team of chefs serenely assembling the eclectic menu on a large island countertop where a fire flickers behind them. It’s not clear if those flames are for cooking, but I'm grateful for the warmth they offered a dining room that was comfortable but clinical. The service was occasionally brisk, however. We all like efficiency, but when it deprives you of the wine left in your glass it’s hard not to feel rushed. Especially when it’s a highly quaffable 2021 Assyrtiko from Greece at £40 a bottle, of which I wanted to savour every drop.

The problem with making the kitchen a spectacle is that diners will feel the need to spectate. And when they’re spectating they’re not chatting, flirting, laughing or any of the other innate things humans do when good wine flows and the promise of being fed grows near. It’s something that’s hard not to notice when it’s missing.

The food and drink

Just because I can see the chefs toss, slice and plate doesn’t mean they are going to fulfil the restaurant’s promise of delivering a Mediterranean menu for “lovers of good food”. But they made sure no promises were broken.

A simple entreé like zucchini fritti could be greasy, damp shards of neglected vegetable, but here they are airy, crunchy matchsticks of faintly sweet courgette. Smoked burrata with Belgian endive, red apple and walnut sounds safe enough, but there were two bitter ingredients here that behaved themselves only because of the clever introduction of sharp fruit and fumed cheese. But why only half a burrata? For £12.50 it feels a little mean-spirited.

All is forgiven when I try the jet black cuttlefish croquettes with Tabasco mayonnaise, a snip at £9.50. These were model croquettes, perfectly crisp and the kind of dangerously addictive tapas that deserve to be served and consumed in double-digit quantities. And that’s coming from someone who usually avoids mayonnaise at all costs.

The tuna in my tartare with wasabi avocado was chopped too finely, but it’s quickly relegated to an afterthought by a heavenly main course of buttery ricotta ravioli with black truffle. The devil is in the detail with something so classic: the rolling of the pasta; the amount of filling; the strength of the truffle. Considering how skilled and methodical the team are at Kitchen at Holmes, I shouldn’t be at all surprised they got it all spot on.

There’s a light and flavoursome courgette spaghetti with pistachio, basil and smoked ricotta that will make you feel more virtuous, at least until dessert is offered. The menu calls them “Indulgences”, a description my hedonistically boozy black forest gâteau accepts without protest. Over the table a pretty white chocolate and lemon panna cotta was zingy and fresh and not too sweet. It sailed where so many panna cottas flounder when in unsympathetic hands.

The verdict

Kitchen at Holmes is a conscientious restaurant that expects its guests to recognise good quality. You may visit for the mild curiosity that is a smoothly run open kitchen. Or you may want to visit for the most addictive croquettes you’ll likely find this side of Spain. These are just two reasons to visit. Which of them is more likely to define your experience? I’ll let you decide.

Dominic Kocur was a guest of Kitchen at Holmes. 108 Baker Street, London, W1U 6LJ; kitchenatholmes.co.uk