This is on many a Michelin diner’s bucket list, alongside names like Noma, The French Laundry, and Osteria Francescana.
Restaurant Gordon Ramsay in Chelsea stands among the giants. For any serious food lover, it feels almost mandatory. Few names have meant as much in British dining as Gordon Ramsay.
And yet, as the maître d’ welcomed us into the dining room, I could not help but think: is this it?
Snack Service
The restaurant is, to put it gently, outdated. Time seems to have stopped. The décor, much like at Petrus, has not kept up. A ceiling lamp hangs overhead the dining room, looking like it was made by a plumber and decorated in a preschool painting session—though I suspect it cost a fortune.
The room is rectangular, which only adds to the structured, formal feel. That sums up the setting. Stiff. Overly formal. Stuck in the past.
We arrived for dinner just after they opened for the night. Only a couple of tables were taken. Four staff members stood at the far end of the room, just watching. Ready to spring into action at the first sign of a rogue fork. It is 2025. Go and do something else. Stop staring at us.
Pre-starter
It was spring, and most of the dishes reflected the season. Except two. First, the signature dish—the famous lobster ravioli. Full of flavour, yes, but with a consistency so compact that all I could think of was a squash ball.
I imagine it would bounce the same way if dropped on the floor. Oops. Tempting, but I suspect the staff would have bounced me out if I should test my theory.
Ravioli – Lobster – Langoustine, Salmon – Lemon – Sauce Américaine
The ravioli, by the way, is not originally Ramsay’s. It started with Marco Pierre White, under whom he trained. Ramsay has made it his own, but the roots are Marco’s. Still, it is his signature dish—and always on the menu.
The meal ended with the pecan praline. You are already full, and I imagine most guests struggle to finish it, feeling more like a winter dessert—rich and heavy—than something suited to spring.
Cornish turbot – White Asparagus – Garlic Cream – Vin Jaune
An hour in, the room was filled. The volume was rising—not from the service, but from the guests. It was louder than expected.
You come here for the name. You leave with the experience. But you probably will not come back. It is not that the dishes are not good—they simply do not excite you.
Service was too formal, too polished. No connection, just a smooth routine. More of, and I am about to swear in the church now, “plate taxis.”
Herdwick Hogget – Young Peas – Mint – Wild Garlic
Pecan Praline – Pedro Ximénez – Cacao Nib Ice Cream
First time
Three-star
Dinner
18.00
Classic with good margins.
Moderate, sometimes loud from other guests. 70–75 dB.
No
A tough one. We are not sure. Maybe?
Share your feedback in the comments below.
2 Responses
1. Of course the lobster ravioli remains on the menu, it’s a classic and absolutely delicious. I’d be furious if I visited and it wasn’t on the menu, regardless of season.
2. You must have remarkably thin waistlines if RGR would leave you too full for dessert; I thought it was a polished, well considered tasting menu and I left comfortably full.
3. You really seem rather anal about noise levels…I had never considered Swedes to be an especially quiet people, but perhaps I was misinformed.
4. You know what’s really tired? Complaining about things being tired. It’s simple and elegant in there, leave it alone. If you want light shows and pinwheels, maybe run off back to Alchemist.
I’ve been lucky enough to visit every 3* in London (Sketch, not so lucky) and I’m baffled that you’d call HD at the Connaught something truly memorable yet this forgettable.
Thank you for taking the time to comment, it is always nice to know someone is actually reading some of our posts, even if through clenched teeth.
1. The ravioli is undoubtedly a classic, and for many, it is a non-negotiable part of the visit. We just happen to think it would make more sense as an optional course. Not everyone agrees. That is fine.
2. Nothing against a lively room—we enjoy a good buzz too. But at this calibre, we enjoy the food more than a voice competition with the tables beside us. Especially when it is not exactly free to eat there.
3. On décor, we appreciate simplicity. What we do not love is when simplicity drifts into stagnation. But that is a matter of taste—and this is, after all, a personal review.
And yes—credit where it is due: the “light shows and pinwheels” line was brilliant.
Thanks again for sharing your perspective.