Langan’s Brasserie, Mayfair

Skip The Nonsense

M.I.A. once sung about going to Langan’s Brasserie in Mayfair, if memory serves me correctly.

“Going to Langan Langan’s, golangalangalangans”.

No? Am I making this up? Someone help me.

Oh. I was just making this shit up.

Maybe double-check.

Phew. I’m glad we got that straightened out.

My regular accomplice received some kind of 40% off deal for Langan’s Brasserie – I’d never heard of the place, but I thought “sod it”, let’s go off-piste and posh it up. Well, I was expecting pish posh – it had the feel of somewhere that would do a wanky Sunday roast, but my accomplice disagreed. And most importantly, 40% off.

Wronguns

Langan’s Brasserie is probably the first restaurant that I’ve seen on a tube exit sign. Quite why Blacklock doesn’t have it’s very own exit stumps me…maybe that is to come.

My accomplice messaged me to advise that it was posh inside, though when I turned up, pretty much the first thing I saw was a bloke in an Arsenal shirt. Even in Blackpool that doesn’t count as posh. Well…maybe it does.

And before you get on your high horse about some wannabe middle-class wannabe influencer getting sniffy about a night out in one of the best places in the UK to score lower-grade crack, I have been to Blackpool on holiday. True, not as an adult, and also true I prefer sunnier middle-class places like Torremolinos. But I have actually been.

Anyway, where was I?

Nope.

Oh yeah, Langan’s Brasserie, the place that M.I.A. didn’t sing about having a roast dinner at…I think.

It was a slightly curious place, in that I couldn’t really place it. Funky neon signage on the outside, but a bit formal in the restaurant area. Yet the bar area was more art deco, the toilets were gorgeous, the chairs were luxurious and there were loads of staff. Oh, and there is loads of artworks by luminary artists such as David Hockney, Lucian Freud, Francis Bacon and…Timmy Mallett. Wikipedia doesn’t make things up too, does it?

Wow, it seems like Timmy Mallett is an artist. Mallett’s Pallete. Well, hammer me down and stick a plaster on my face. You here to learn right?

Wangers

Anyway, this isn’t really flowing is it? I know I can often be a bit all over the place (someone described me as irreverent on Facebook, can you believe?) but this isn’t quite flowing. Besides there is nothing in my head to write about other than roast dinners. Then again, there wasn’t anything else in my head until I started singing “Go Langan’s Langan’s earlier”.

Options on the Sunday roast menu at Langan’s Brasserie were Hereford ribeye, Suffolk half chicken, Tamworth pork belly and Blackpool celeriac fondant. All the meaty ones priced at a slightly eye-popping £34.00 (no wonder they let someone in with an Arsenal shirt).

Oh but with a 40% discount. You do the maths. If you care.

Starting with the carrots which were very honey-flavoured – very much so. So much that at first I thought we had ridiculously sweet gravy – note though that we do actually have gravy and not jus. I’ve won that battle, haven’t I? Still working on world peace. Still need to start my roast dinner awards for 2023. Carrots were also soft.

The parsnips had been roasted in the same tin, and were very honeytastic too…albeit I’m not mega keen on honey. The larger of the parsnips was slightly undercooked, the other was pretty spot on – and there was some delightful parsnippyness in with the honey too.

For me, the tenderstem broccoli was too al dente, too much rawness to the stalk anyway. Though it’s always a Blackpool Pleasure Beach to see.

Go lang your wanger

Cauliflower cheese came with the roast – a small pot shared between two, and it was pretty delightful. Creamy, cheesy – the cauliflower was a bit mushy, but overall quite delightful.

One of my accomplices had stunning roasties – she even left one for me. What did you say? No, I didn’t pinch it. Mine weren’t quite on her level:

There were definitely crispy outsides going on, to an extent. But also some undercooked and quite dry insides – nothing horrendous, but nothing especially enjoyable. 4 of them though…weird that in 2024 I either get an illegal amount of roast potatoes (3 being the legal limit in London), or I get illegal types of potatoes.

On the flip side, the yorkie was really good. A double-egg yorkie – it was turmeric-yellow inside, nicely crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside – there isn’t much competition yet but likely the best of 2024 so far. Also quite possibly better than any in 2023.

Hang on…she did do a song about going to Langan’s.

Golagalaga Langan’s

Regular readers were possibly surprised that I chose the chicken over the pork belly – so was I. However I’d eaten beef the week before at L’Escargot (Langan’s Brasserie also sells snails, fact fans), and the waiter suggested that the chicken was much better than the pork belly. It was a knowing response.

It may or may not have been better than the pork belly, but the inner part of the leg was undercooked. I’m cool with pink chicken, but this was pink and somewhat raw. The breast was really rather plump, yet also quite bouncy in texture. Seasoning was zero and the skin was soft. It was unconvincing.

That said, I enjoyed it more than my accomplices enjoyed the beef – all complaining that it was fatty and chewy. It looked too thickly cut for the lower quality of cut, and perhaps needed to be less rare? I know, I know.

I didn’t mind the gravy – they were even kind enough to spoon it over for me. A good consistency, though a little sweet and tomato-based – it wasn’t a particularly meat stock affair.

Go To Langan’s Brasserie. Maybe.

Ohhhhh hang on…she was singing about the programming language, Golang, right? “Golang, golang, is my favourite programming language, I write a function, in your junction…”.

Yeah I’m more writer than lyricist. Hidden talent perhaps. Very hidden.

Well this was definitely more wanky than wonderful…and that’s what I think of my writing, fuck knows what you’ve thought of this review.

And the roast too…was a mixed bag. My beautiful accomplice (apparently I normally call her the weird one for not eating gravy) scored it a 7.70, my regular accomplice a 7.10 and the final accomplice a somewhat more disappointed 6.80 out of 10.

It feels a bit harsh to be considering a score of less than 7, as the Yorkshire pudding and cauliflower cheese were punching. Plus service was good, they sold apple juice (Dry February, lol) and they seemed to cope with us rejecting bread, rejecting a starter, rejecting wine, rejecting dessert and rejecting coffee. Nope, just a roast dinner, oh and with our 40% off please.

I think there was enough quality to scrape over the 7 mark – a perfunctory 7.06 out of 10, perhaps. It isn’t much of a recommendation really – there’s better upmarket places for a roast dinner in central London – and quite possibly a reason why they are offering 40% off vouchers. That said, we saw a chicken kyiv on another table, and it looked sexy.

Apparently the restaurant was relaunched with new owners in 2021 – but I’m going to suggest that if they want to compete with the best Sunday roasts in London, especially at that price, they’ve got some work to do.

I’ll be back next week – a galangalanga go lang…at a proper pub this time. Happy dayz. Oh…do go (lang galang) see The Hills Of California, if you like theatre stuff and it is still 2024 when you are reading. Bye.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.