The Lockhart – Review

 Sometimes people ask me why I don’t open my own restaurant. It seems that the combination of going out a lot and being an opinionated bugger qualifies me to become a restaurateur. Or maybe they just want to see me bankrupted…

 Anyway a year or so ago two London-based  Texan couples decided that what our city needed was a joint serving up food from the American South. To this end they hired a British chef who had impressed on ‘Masterchef’,  trained him up, hired a crack front-of-house team and then closed the restaurant shortly  afterwards after a spate of bad reviews.
But Texans don’t give up-in the case of Bobby Ewing they even come back from the dead-and their next play was a smart move. On reopening they hired chef Brad McDonald who hails from Louisiana. McDonald  combines authenticity with heavyweight foodie credentials having done time at Noma and Per Se as well as the urban cool of Brooklyn’s Colonie.

The room is stripped back and some critics have felt it’s a bit bleak. It may not be as chichi as other Fitzrovia haunts but better a cool urban vibe than a retro take on a dubious antebellum past. The relatively neutral background.gives the food room to speak.

 We snacked on pickled quails eggs (£1 each), soft and piquant and washed down with a smokey Margarita; but then the kitchen really got into gear.
 Hot devilled Cornish crab (£9) had plenty of spice giving the brown meat a proper kick up the arse. Supping with the devil has its compensations…

Catfish Goujons were crisp and piping hot from the fryer accompanied by a spiky mustardy Creole remoulade sauce that left you in no doubt that this kitchen means business.
Her Ladyship and I moved on to a bottle of Willamette Pinot Gris , Oregon (£36) which was fruity and smooth and more than stood up to my dish of shrimp and grits (£18). I love this dish more than I can say. Southern comfort food that caresses the soul and makes you believe in I don’t know what…something…

 Southern fried chicken came with collard greens and coleslaw (£17). This dish is about as far away from high street iterations as I am from Mo Farah at 1000 metres. Crisp and juicy, her Ladyship who isn’t inclined to the deep-fried thought it was lovely.

And finally it came…bread from heaven…freshly baked cornbread (£6) wet with butter, hot and coarse. You know you’re going to get in trouble but sometimes…

I love The Lockhart. Part of me lives in a fantasy south of my own imagination. A south where slavery never happened and the beauty of the country, music and food comes together to create something wonderful and new and unexpected. That south doesn’t exist but The Lockhart does. You should go.