August 7, 2025 |
There’s a certain allure to Langan’s that reveals itself before you’ve even stepped inside – not in grand gestures, but in the quiet charm of its Mayfair corner. There, the subtle promise of something memorable sits behind the framed stone walls a few steps away from Piccadilly, where the late Michelin-starred chef Richard Shepherd was one of three to open Langan’s back in 1976. Now executive head chef Benjamin Mellor is bringing the old glamour of Langan’s into the 21st century.
The first thing you’ll see when you step onto Stratton Street is the crimson glow of the neon lights that sit above the entrance, offering a subtle nod of welcome to those in the know. Erected with ceiling-scraping windows and made from classical stone, Langan’s doesn’t need to compete for attention. Its presence is felt rather than declared, shaped by decades of stories and star-studded evenings wherein the likes of Elizabeth Taylor and Mick Jagger used to break bread. For decades, the ritzy restaurant functioned as the go-to haunt for pop-culture’s finest.
Whether you’re savouring indulgent dishes at Langan’s Brasserie or sipping on bespoke cocktails at Upstairs at Langan’s – the members-only club located above the restaurant – you’re entering a world where classical meets contemporary.
A tilt of the suited and booted doorman’s head met us with a knowing smile as we entered through the wrapped, white-light door frame, with mirrored panels catching reflections of the bustling Mayfair traffic that drove past behind us. The ceaseless noise of London faded away as we stepped inside, replaced by the elegant murmur of the brasserie. The space unfolded with art-deco marble floors and glittering green chandeliers made from murano glass that hung low above the bar opposite the entrance. Low golden art-deco table lamps sat on the marble bar creating intimate pools of light and the bar was fully stocked with premium spirits. All the while chatty guests sat in the dark green raised stools sipping gracefully on their cocktails and champagne.
As we swept into the heart of the restaurant, we entered a scene humming with energy – intimate couples and larger tables of impeccably dressed friends and families laughed over clinking glasses and refined dishes. We took our seats at an immaculately set table – white linen, gleaming silver cutlery and paper-thin wine glasses. Cocooned in olive green velvet armchairs, the setting struck a perfect balance between modern and heritage. Across the room, a marble bar holding ice, topped with fresh fish made a striking statement. Adorned with towering vases of tall British-grown gladiolus and tropical foliage in fashion-forward hues of green and cream – a nod to the upholstery.
Every detail of the space felt curated, with the restaurant becoming something of a gallery in its own right. Works by both emerging and established artists notably celebrated creativity, diversity and heritage. Pieces by David Hockney graced the walls alongside other eye-catching works while compositions by Ella Kruglyanskaya and France-Lise McGurn adorned the back of the menus as a homage to Langan’s artistic past.
Back at our table, Langan’s Fizz – the eatery’s signature serve – arrived in a slender champagne flute, its rim artfully brushed with a stroke of what appeared to be strawberry compote and topped with a vivid violet and saffron pansy flower. Inside, Ketel One vodka and Champagne seamlessly paired with a melon and lemongrass cordial and lots of ice. Equally enticing was the Queen’s Garden, a perfect tipple for a midsummer dinner in August. Served in a tall glass with one long ice cube, Kew Gin and pomelo aperitif are gently stirred with elderflower cordial, cucumber, mint and a squeeze of lime of tonic which refines this refreshing cocktail. The final flourish is a spring of fresh mint and an orange pansy flower.
Once we had placed our food orders, our waiter – a Frenchman – brought over a chilled bottle of Sancerre. A dry white wine, with fruity notes that lent itself well to what was to come.
A procession of starters established the mood with both theatre and precision. A pea panna cotta, light and silken, arrived with spears of English asparagus and flecks of crumbled feta, the savoury edge softened by a drizzle of honey. Then from the nearby ice-laden fish counter, a chargrilled mackerel – one of the day’s specials – made its way to the table. The maître d’ glazed the fillet in a sunshine-yellow butter sauce at the table. The fish fell from the bone in soft, smoky flakes, delivering a deeply savouring flavour. It’d be remiss not to mention the two meter Tuna fish, caught off the English Coast a few days prior and weighing in at 109kg, that arrived next. Three slices were topped with olive oil, salt, crowned with spring onion and delicate dollops of avocado.
The mains followed. A 220g Aged Hereford Filet Mignon was a delight – its perfectly seared crust giving way to a pink, medium-rare centre; finished with a braised shallot, its sweetness was almost jam-like. On the side, golden chips – crisp-edged and fluffy-centred – and sautéed spinach were the perfect companion to the meat. Across the table from me, one of my guests ordered a rosy Salmon fillet – lightly roasted – which sat in a pool of creamy beurre blanc. Paper-thin rounds of pickled cucumber were delicately arranged along the top, their sharpness playing beautifully against the richness of the sauce and the buttery flake of the fish. Then came the rigatoni, perfectly al dente, coated in a velvety parmesan cream sauce and topped with generous dollops of King’s caviar. The roe cut effortlessly through the richness, offering pops of saltiness that elevated the dish into something far beyond comfort food.
Then we turned our attention to the sweet crescendo of the evening: dessert – always a non-negotiable. The menu was diverse in choice offering pairings of dessert wines with each dish. We chose the Cherry Bakewell Soufflé – its airy texture giving way to the richness of a cherry compote and a generous scoop of Amaretto ice cream on the side, topped with lightly toasted flaked almonds. The Madagascar Vanilla Crème Brûlée was a timeless classic. Its caramelised top shattered with the tap of my silver spoon, revealing a delicately set custard, rich with vanilla and golden in colour. Finally came the Crème Caramel, a dessert that takes me down memory lane, back to devouring one after school and tipping the pot upside down to let the caramel drip straight into my mouth. This Crème Caramel was far more chic than those corner shop treats. Paired with sour yet sweet pickled blackberries which sat around the creamy dessert, the vanilla seeds and caramel cascading down the sides, it was colourful, delicious and nostalgic.
A distinguished setting where luncheons transition seamlessly into dinners, Langan’s really embodies a timeless sort of elegance. The menu pays homage to British culinary tradition, thoughtfully infused with a French flair, with offerings ranging from seasonal dishes to expertly executed cocktails. Above the restaurant, the ambiance shifts, Upstairs at Langan’s is an art deco masterpiece: softly lit, adorned with rouge-toned velvet and delicate crystal glassware. By day, it offers a serene retreat for Mayfair’s creatives and tastemakers; by night it transforms, music pulses and champagne flows. Langan’s remains an enduring fixture in London’s social and gastronomic scene – a destination where taste, style and atmosphere collide.
Photography courtesy of Langan’s.
