Hopes were high for dining in Chantelle Nicholson’s latest restaurant, Apricity. The chef had built a prior strong reputation for pioneering hyper-seasonal, local and sustainable approaches in her previous ventures in Earl’s Court and Hackney. Critics have mostly lauded her newest restaurant and its whole circular economy angle captures wonderfully the current zeitgeist. Despite such a backdrop, your reviewer and his dining comrade left somewhat underwhelmed.
Apricity generously describes itself as being located in Mayfair. Sure, Grosvenor Square is just a block away, but the bright lights and discount sweet shops of Oxford Street lie much closer. A Spaghetti House sits just a few outlets away. Not the most auspicious of locations then. Our first impression could be categorised as similarly inauspicious. Apricity’s front of house exuded no warmth and initially appeared to have no record of our booking. When it was eventually retrieved I said in a light tone that I hoped that at least we would have a good table to which her response was “they’re all good.” Put another way, they were equally bad, packed too closely together in a way that was antithetical to intimacy.
Don’t name your restaurant after the warmth of the winter sun – for that is what apricity means – when the venue struggles for atmosphere. It wasn’t just the positioning of the tables, but the general lack of decorative presence across the room. Everything felt stripped back and minimalist. Sure, it’s a laudable notion to keep waste or excess to a minimum, but when it starts to crowd out pleasure, then you’ve perhaps gone too far. I want to be entertained when I go out, rather than using dining as a form of virtue signalling. QR codes rather than paper menus might well make sense from an environmental perspective, but forces diners to squint at their phones from the outset and takes away from the novelty of being out.
At least our main server was of charismatic disposition and steered us well across certain choices within the tasting menus (a la carte options are also available). Vegetarianism is no after-thought at Apricity and plants are often elevated centre stage even in the omnivorous selection. The humble lettuce was transformed into a pungent salad with crispy kale adding an additional textural dimension. Charred corn was another winner, while a pollock tartare with pickled kohlrabi and crème fraiche was probably my stand out dish. Both cheeses and desserts failed to hit the highs of Apricity’s earlier offerings, but at £85 for 7 courses, diners do feel they are getting good value. The wine list was generally thoughtful and we enjoyed both an English sparkling and a delicious Loire white.
Apricity is worth returning to, but probably under different circumstances. It would make a wonderful lunch venue, but is not somewhere to come for a more blow-out festive meal.