Bellamy’s
I COULD LEAD on Bellamy’s in a variety of ways. I could explain that both the patron and the chef migrated to Bruton Place from the previous incarnation of Annabel’s in 2004. I could allude to the Very August Personage who is rumoured to have looked in on more than one occasion. And I could mention the diner who was so enchanted by his experience that he christened a super-tanker after the restaurant. But, in the final analysis, none of that matters. The keynotes of Bellamy’s are its warmth and its integrity. It’s those qualities that keep the regulars returning year upon year.
At Bellamy’s, there are no shady corners, either literal or metaphorical. Everything and everybody are out in the open. The ambience and cuisine epitomise the principles of the classic French brasserie. The bright posters on the walls echo the hum of cheerful conversation, the clatter of plates and the inviting aroma of good food cooked with skill and served with finesse. There’s a charming amount of Franglais on a menu that invariably includes the likes of iced lobster soufflé, and picatta of veal with white truffle sauce.
For a relatively new establishment, the clientele is resolutely ancien régime: Old Mayfair, Old Money, Old Society. Indeed, in these days of meretricious glitz, Bellamy’s proves one ineluctable but often forgotten truth: that a place doesn’t have to be grand in order to be smart.
See also: Elystan Street, 5 Hertford Street, Medlar
