The Hart
This is British pub food at its finest. From the team behind the Fat Badger and The Hero, The Hart in Marylebone perfectly combines the two offerings into one. A neighbourhood pub and dining room – named for the Hart family who ran a bar on the site in the 1840s – The Hart is on a dual mission to celebrate British farmers and bring back the dying art of the weekday pub lunch.
While we, erroneously, made our visit in the evening, we were greeted with a lively crowd in the packed-out bar, before making our way up – past the open kitchen and ready-to-book private snug – through to the central dining area. Cosy, occasionally bordering on cramped (something it hopes to rectify by opening up its upper floor den space), we warmed up by the open fire and sat entranced by the candles’ glow. Serenaded with jazz, the energy of the music was only surpassed by the ever-chatty and attentive staff.
To start, we were treated to the poshest (and crispiest) hashbrowns around (complete with eggy mayo and chilli ketchup), alongside salty pork scratchings (plus apple sauce) which sat just on the right side of a tooth crack. When choosing starters, don’t be put-off by the description of ‘Pig’s Head, Egg’ – its enticingly meaty flavour forced me to squeeze in a few bits on top of my crab cakes. As servers will explain, the plain English speaking menu is designed to celebrate the use of British ingredients: something we can keenly get behind.
As a half-Aussie, I’ve been raised on the knowledge that my dad’s lamb chops are the best around. But The Hart may just have him beat. If you’re anything like my mum (who prefers her chops confusingly fat free) you will be missing out on the true magic of this dish: a crispy crunch through to rich and succulent fat, with perfectly done meat and mint jelly to match. I’ve been thinking about this main ever since.
Having only managed a few bites of the hake, despite longing for more, I was keen to leave enough room for dessert: a banoffee pie which promised to be worthy of a Paul Hollywood handshake. While I can’t talk for Paul, I’d happily offer up my own hand in exchange. Grinning and clutching my stomach all the way home, I’m already plotting when I can bring my parents. I just hope my dad won’t be too miffed to discover he’s been outdone. By Isabel Dempsey
56 Blandford Street, Marylebone, W1U 7JA, thehartw1.com































