Restaurant Review: Ochre
Ochre is the new restaurant at The National Gallery. From its calming interior to its riotous sharing plates, find out why I think they’ve got dining down to a fine art.
Stomping past the lions in Trafalgar Square, hair blowing about the face and trying to keep my bag on my shoulder all contributed to my dishevelled arrival at The National Gallery. Six minutes late to my reservation at Ochre, I dash up to the door, pausing momentarily to admire the beautiful bronze plaque upon which the name of the restaurant is so elegantly etched. No time, though: through the doorway, panting and gasping my name to the host, and then… Oh, my. This. Is. Beautiful.
My eyes focus on the present scene in front of me, awash with calming, earthy tones of sandstone, red clay, sage green, golden moss and, naturally, ochre. Everything is bathed in a warm, welcoming glow. In a daze, I’m shown to my table, which is decorated with tufts of dried wheat sheaves, and I sink down gently onto a velvet-cushioned chair. This is a lesson in ambience and Ochre is Maestro.
Having opened its doors in April this year, Ochre is the new restaurant at The National Gallery. Brought to aesthetes and gastronomes alike by the team behind Muriel’s Kitchen, Ochre is a zillion miles away from weak tea served in stainless steel pots in a cold art gallery cafe (it’s also open outside of the gallery hours, too). It is very much art in itself, as demonstrated by the carefully-curated space and the specific attention to detail of someone with a vision.
The art continues at the table with the first round of painstakingly perfect cocktails. The Whistlejacket Old Fashioned is a deep-fruited autumnal twist on the classic, with a plum and fig infusion, while the De Pompadour is a lighter style of aperitif; sweet and bubbly, garnished with a plump raspberry pierced with a mint sprig skewer. Later on, there’s wine. The sommelier is an affable guide and together we land on a red-hearted, crunchy Beaujolais - a winner of a wine for a group of diners with different preferences.
Ochre specialises in the art of coming together, which is why its dishes are designed for sharing. With a focus on British, seasonal produce, dish after dish appears at the table; a riot of colour, smells, texture and flavour. Excuse us, while we reach our hands across the table like crossed swords, pinching a glistening mackerel taco from here and a sweet potato and pea samosa from there. The fit-to-burst burrata elicits a chorus of swoons from the table, and its beautifully prepared accompaniments of braised fennel, smoked almonds, plum and radicchio makes it worthy of them. The charred cauliflower with sautéed chanterelle mushrooms and capers is most definitely one of Ochre’s hero dishes, but don’t overlook the house pickled seasonal vegetables, either. These are refreshing hits of joy, perking up the palate after the richer bites. And if you’re one to take or leave dessert? At Ochre, you take it. I’ve never had a tarte tatin that made me feel as light on my feet as a ballet dancer before.
To leave Ochre and step outside onto the pavement is akin to tearing your eyes away from an enchanting painting. Though you must return to the world of reality, one that is not ochre-tinted and bergamot-scented, the experience stays with you and you are enriched because of it.
Find out more about Ochre here.