As London rediscovers its lust for life – and late nights – Josh Barrie charts the return of white linen, martinis and sparkling service, delivering New York-style refinement on a plate
There’s something about a white linen tablecloth, isn’t there? You may have noticed, in 2025, that hot-pressed linen is back, suggesting the return of a style of hospitality often associated with New York City. That is to say, one that is elegant and refined, well-oiled and maybe a little ‘extra’. But when the price is right and the mood soft, all of this is very welcome. London is embracing New York service. First came The Devonshire – meticulously proficient in its delivery, though by no means overly clinical or sanitised. Put simply, staff are paid well and you can tell: they’ll laugh with you at the table, recommend the right wine and bring you endless bread rolls if that’s what’s required. (These should be dipped in the vinegar-laced butter, wherein dainty scallops swim in their warm shells.)
Then came The Dover, with its oh-so NYC ambience. It’s difficult for punters to land a top table for lunch on Thursday – the best day to go out in London – or at 8pm on a Friday, but, beyond that, the influencers have gone to bed and what’s left are minor royals and people who care less. The mini hot dog, heavy with onion, sausage plump, is among the finest bar snacks around today. Pair with a vodka martini. Please, no gin.
These sumptuous vibes have even made their way over to east London, or at least its frilly edges, by way of the fêted One Club Row, a place that is both decorous and fun. A man will play the piano as you order another Hemingway daiquiri. And some cheese and leek gougères. And perhaps some lobster and ham croquettes… Everything feels softer; less arduous. We are all tired and going out should extinguish fear.
‘Hey, we’re gonna start you off with some bread…’ comes an Italian-American accent at Carbone, now open at The Chancery Rosewood. The space is enormous; the plates colourful, patterned and evocative of some Tuscan nonna whose meatballs are delicate and not at all dry. Captains – lead waiters – are so well trained as to be contrived, but this is Carbone, the movie-set restaurant, which charms many, but might be divisive.
It’s too early to tell whether the concept will work in the UK capital. Sure, Londoners will clamour for the buzz; come to drink big Manhattans (bourbon, perfect, on the rocks) and move on to rigatoni alla vodka and dressed endive. But longevity? A trickier sell.
Still, Carbone’s arrival is a statement of intent – and a positive one for a city suffering a degree of peril. Much has been said about the dire state of hospitality here today. If there’s one good sign, it’s this New York foray: bring on the low lights and chatter, robust reds and some ‘little snacks to get things going’. I’m not suggesting any of this is a saviour, but there’s room in London for everything and everyone. Take heed of the white linen tablecloth. When uncertainty reigns, simplicity in dining is what prevails.
