Artful Gastronomy at Ochre: A Culinary Canvas Unveiled

Exploring the Fusion of Flavour and Ambiance in the Heart of Ochre, A Michelin Star Restaurant Where Local Ingredients Take Center Stage

Ochre, accessed through the National Gallery, captivates with an elegant and spacious atmosphere. The staff, aware of a reviewing visit, impress with friendly service. The menu, featuring local ingredients creatively, shines with standout dishes. Despite minor hiccups, the overall experience promises a return for cocktails and exploration.

TRAFALGAR SQUARE – We entered Ochre through the National Gallery, which means our first encounter with the work of Charlotte Noble and Sam Miller was the typical art gallery-friendly cafeteria that is Muriel’s Kitchen, inside the National Gallery. Ochre, a Michelin Star restaurant which is also accessed from the Charing Cross Road, is a different proposition altogether. The space is elegant, spacious, and cosy, apparently a restored space that keeps many of the early features of the building. The lighting designer deserves an award for placing warm bright-enough lights close enough to each dining table that we can enjoy the grandeur of the incredibly high ceilings without being overwhelmed and diminished by them, setting the stage for a dining experience that can be intimate without feeling crowded.

The staff were friendly and attentive. Full disclosure – they knew we were coming to do a review, so I’m not surprised that they made us feel that they were keen to ensure we were happy. I hope every customer is made to feel the same. It was also not a very busy evening, so while I can attest to their willingness to please, I’m not able to comment on their efficiency under pressure. When the initial offering of bread and butter came, however, I was reassured that their food and service standards might meet the quality of the decor, and dared to hope they might meet the heights of those very impressive ceilings. The chewy crusty thickly sliced bread came with soft whipped butter that was sprinkled with little crystals of salt. We also had the olives – green, fresh, reassuringly light and creamy in flavour. When presented with the menu I learned that they seek to use local ingredients as much as possible, but that by no means limits the imagination of the chef.

The menu offers a good variety of options, from vegan to fish to steak. The starters have a local mackerel, pumkin soup, and hamhock terrine. My partner, who after years touring with his music and art in Italy has a particular understanding of pasta and ragu, opted for the Braised Beef Shin & Oxtail Ragu, Mafalde Pasta Bermondsey hard pressed cheese. Here is a fine example of the chef’s intention to use local ingredients in diverse ways. The pasta was al dente, so the first and most common sin in England against italian cuisine was avoided. Mafalde is a good choice of pasta as the ridges hold the sauce nicely. The ragu had the complexity and richness expected from a mix of shin & oxtail. As for the cheese, all I can say is the my partner made a quiet declaration that there might have been the offer of more. For his starter he chose the hamhock terrine, which I almost always avoid. The jelly that they incorporate is too much for me. But this Ham Hock & Parsley Terrine Indian military pickle, served with sourdough toast (a crispier version of the same bread offered when we arrived) as lean and lively, with the high ratio of parsely serving as a nice counterpoint to the ham. We were concerned the pickle might have been too sweet or curried, but it was bright and elegant and once again, not quite enough for our desires.

For my part I decided to have the things that, when offered on a menu, are a good test of a chef’s respect for their ingredients. Simple dishes well done are to me a great way to showcase local produce, so the Delica Pumpkin Soup with King Oyster mushroom and pine oil was my starter, followed by a medium-rare Dry Aged Hereford Sirloin with grape mustard and bordelaise sauce. The soup was subtle, and at first I thought I might need to ask for some seaoning. But 2 more spoonfuls in and I could appreciate the subtle genius of the dish. Chef has given us chunks of tender sweet pumpkin with the skin on, so that we get a little resistance to the teeth, and the impression that we might have discovered hidden treasure under the surface of the rusty golden broth with the deep green pine oil decorating the surface. And then the king oyster offers a wildly weird texture and another layer to the flavour experience. My palate is not that delicate, and I’m glad I resisted adding the pepper that my partner suggested. It’s a soup that speaks quietly, but with eloquence.

My sirloin was cooked perfectly, and served sliced to prove it at first glance. Maybe this was for the cook to be sure they got it right, or maybe it was to show off. Whatever the reason, it was comforting to see the right temperature without having to test it myself. The sauce and grape mustard were an appropriate balance to the meat, and my sides – broccoli and heirloom tomatoes, where perfectly served. The broccoli had its crunch still, enhanced by the presence of ample roasted almonds, and the tomatoes were gloriously ripe and relatively unmolested by dressings or sauces. The meat, was served on a bed of cooked onion puree, which was very much to my liking, but I was surprised to taste it so thoroughly overwhelming the dish, as it wasn’t mentioned on the menu at all. A warning – if you’re not in love with cooked onions, there’s no way to know what’s coming so that you might be able to ask for it on the side or without, as the meat is served on a bed of it.

For dessert we had Sticky Toffee Pudding toffee sauce with the revelatory caramelised pecans and much appreciated Cornish clotted cream (again, we would always like more) – perfectly rendered, and what was called Valrhona Chocolate Mousse with pear compôte. I come from a family that has in its tradition classic French chocolate mousse, and find that they rarely get it right here in the U.K. So of course I had to try it. While there is a mousse-like event happening somewhere in this dish, there is also a chocolate cake crumble into which the mousse is layered, along with the pear compote. It’s a good concept, but the description leads to a disappointing experience. I hope whoever designs the menu here makes a few small updates. The food deserved to be advertised correctly.

It seems the bar manager has a creative soul at the helm as well. As tipple-chemists ourselves, my partner and I were happy to peruse the full cocktail menu exploring the creative offers there. It was a bit like wandering the art galleries, resting from time to time in the glory of someone’s idea of beauty. Finally, for the cocktails my partner had the Parisian Avenue – a fine mix of yellow chartreuse and brandy, with the slight pepper and the low sweetness making lovely companions. I asked, following on from the theme of my simple ingredients test, for a very dry slightly dirty gin martini. I was curious to learn what was special about the server’s recommended gin. I can’t tell you though. Here is the second problem I have dining out in Britain. Too many bartenders think ‘very dry’ means an extra large serving of vermouth. This is quite the opposite of what is required, and I ended up having a large chilled glass of very lovely white vermouth with a bit of gin. Next time I’ll go back to asking for a double gin on the rocks, and call it a martini in my head.

I would return here happily, sit at the bar and try another cocktail, give their afternoon tea a go, and just enjoy the beautiful environment. For a dining experience I would ask more questions about the ingredients in the dishes before ordering, but I trust the chef to care about the food, and that’s a good start for any artistic encounter.