Whatever you do, do not come as you are. Do better. In fact, do your very best. It may require an emergency blowout with George Northwood and a little silky something from the Row, but so be it. Because scoring one of the 75 covers at Arlington, the chattering-class canteen in St. James’s formerly known as Le Caprice, will be the least of your problems.
It may not even technically be open unless you know proprietor Jeremy King or the maître d’hôtel, Jesus Adorno. But once you make it through the heaviest revolving door in town—bodyguards welcome!—coats are whisked away by host Alice Salisbury. (Remember her from the Wolseley?) Now study the mirrors behind the bar, which reveal the contents of the dining room. For those who have properly prepared, heads may swivel. Jarvis Cocker, Minnie Driver, Anya Hindmarch, Nick Jones, Ruthie Rogers: yes, it’s true, they are looking better than ever. In this King-dom, the secret sauce is mid-level lighting.
Everyone and everything at Arlington looks exactly as it did in the 90s; King spared no expense on a faithful re-creation. It’s all angles, a black-and-white Art Deco jewel box whose signature adornment is a fresh edit of those David Bailey photographs. The neon sign is done up in a cerulean that one guest has dubbed “Arlington blue.” In the evenings, a pianist plays jazz standards on a glossy ebony upright.
When Princess Diana and Mick Jagger were frequenting the obscured four-tops in the back corner, I was a teenager in the American Midwest, so walking into Arlington had no context; it caused no memories to resurface. On two recent visits, I was in the minority. Many eyes were misty.
This town can’t agree on much beyond a universal distrust of the Sussexes, but it does unite under its loyalty to King. When his bitter battle with previous investors ended with his ejection from the Wolseley, the Delaunay, and Brasserie Zédel in 2022, the press and style sets were equally outraged. After two years of rebuilding, Jeremy King Restaurants will soon open the Park, an all-day café in Bayswater, and Simpson’s, in the Strand.
But Arlington is the crown jewel. It’s already trending on Instagram as #notlecaprice, since Richard Caring, who owned Le Caprice from 2005 to 2020, retains the rights to that name. King and his former partner Chris Corbin got their start as restaurateurs here in 1981, and Adorno was among their first hires. He soldiered Le Caprice through its period of decline, and returned to his post when King returned to right the ship.
Jarvis Cocker, Minnie Driver, Anya Hindmarch, Nick Jones, Ruthie Rogers: yes, it’s true, they are looking better than ever.
King’s restaurants don’t skimp on the service, and even in these early days, there are no quibbles. Arlington is populated by intuitive veterans of Corbin & King, so you’ll never wait long for a refill. Its menu—bang bang chicken, lobster thermidor soufflé, grilled calf’s liver and bacon, iced berries with white-chocolate sauce—skews nostalgic, delighting Londoners of a certain age and station.
In an era of overcomplication, there’s a lot to be said for a delicately dressed chopped salad with a sprinkle of tarragon. Instead of superfluous foam or caloric mousseline, Arlington’s Thai baked sea bass is finished with a light and tasty sweet chili sauce. (I’m calling it the “Princess Plate,” since it resulted in a famished wake-up at four a.m. Next time, I’ll get a side of pommes frites.)
Arlington feels like a members’ club, but without the fees, hassle, undesirables, and eye-watering prices. (Good luck getting out of dinner at Maison Estelle for less than $250 a head.) Its best-selling cocktails are non-alcoholic and $9 each. At just $21 for steak tartare, $25 for shepherd’s pie, and $55 for rib-eye steak, Arlington has made a convincing appeal to the next generation. Give it a try, perhaps pop in for Sunday lunch. No doubt you’ll like what you see.
Ashley Baker is a Deputy Editor at Air Mail and the co-host of the Morning Meeting podcast