Hawthorn, Kew: 'It aims to fill and soothe' - restaurant review | Grace Dent on restaurants
"Hawthorn, we'll call it Hawthorn," said the owners of the reincarnation of The Glasshouse in Kew. It's a beautiful name, evoking nearby Kew Gardens and the natural abundance, although, coincidentally, it's also the exact same name as the restaurant in Ralph's recent horror satire, The Menu. Fiennes on a killer chef.
We can quickly move on, however, as chef and co-owner Josh Hunter certainly means no harm to his guests. No deaths occurred while I was there. It was Kew on a Saturday night, after all, and the place was jam-packed with the kind of cheerful, smart people who favored the Glasshouse in the 23 years before it closed last September. It's not the Hungry Horse at Basildon; there's talk of three courses for £65 at dinner - for example, oxtail ravioli with winter vegetable stew and bone marrow breadcrumbs, followed by Ryeland hogget and forced rhubarb soufflé with stem ice cream of ginger. It's fine dining, but not the painfully fancy kind that at nine courses you find yourself staring at a bowl of runny gels over an airy bisque and wondering when the real dinner will begin.
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The Glasshouse stayed open so long because it was classy, never edgy, and had more of a neighborhood vibe than a Noma. People who liked it will also like Hawthorn because very little has changed, not even the tables and chairs. It's still an extremely bright single room with no nooks or booths to hide, with tables close enough to hear your neighbors' elementary school admissions woes and who stole the gossip. from the babysitter.
Take this hogget: part is served pink with crispy fat, and there's smoked shoulder meat on fir, silky Jerusalem artichoke, sweet onion petals and a rich Madeira sauce. The dish is aesthetically sublime, yes, but it is also a very good dinner roast. I am always p...
"Hawthorn, we'll call it Hawthorn," said the owners of the reincarnation of The Glasshouse in Kew. It's a beautiful name, evoking nearby Kew Gardens and the natural abundance, although, coincidentally, it's also the exact same name as the restaurant in Ralph's recent horror satire, The Menu. Fiennes on a killer chef.
We can quickly move on, however, as chef and co-owner Josh Hunter certainly means no harm to his guests. No deaths occurred while I was there. It was Kew on a Saturday night, after all, and the place was jam-packed with the kind of cheerful, smart people who favored the Glasshouse in the 23 years before it closed last September. It's not the Hungry Horse at Basildon; there's talk of three courses for £65 at dinner - for example, oxtail ravioli with winter vegetable stew and bone marrow breadcrumbs, followed by Ryeland hogget and forced rhubarb soufflé with stem ice cream of ginger. It's fine dining, but not the painfully fancy kind that at nine courses you find yourself staring at a bowl of runny gels over an airy bisque and wondering when the real dinner will begin.
< figure id="ef2e9418-7640-439f-a68f-328cd094bfcb" data-spacefinder-role="inline" data-spacefinder-type="model.dotcomrendering.pageElements.ImageBlockElement" class="dcr-173mewl">The Glasshouse stayed open so long because it was classy, never edgy, and had more of a neighborhood vibe than a Noma. People who liked it will also like Hawthorn because very little has changed, not even the tables and chairs. It's still an extremely bright single room with no nooks or booths to hide, with tables close enough to hear your neighbors' elementary school admissions woes and who stole the gossip. from the babysitter.
Take this hogget: part is served pink with crispy fat, and there's smoked shoulder meat on fir, silky Jerusalem artichoke, sweet onion petals and a rich Madeira sauce. The dish is aesthetically sublime, yes, but it is also a very good dinner roast. I am always p...
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