Hawksmoor Air Street — Restaurant in London

Listen. Imagine a bear’s cave but that bear has a degree in interior design and doesn’t shit on the floor where it lives. Welcome to the Hawksmoor Covent Gdn, Pronouns: He/Him A classy mancave with Parquet floors, exposed brick walls, minimal lighting, pleated glass and lots of action. It’s in places like the Hawksmoor you wish they hadn’t banned smoking in public because a thick layer of smoke kissing the ceiling would round things off rather nicely thank you very much. It pleases me to imagine a diner with a big fat cigar in one hand, a beef rib in the other. Lost in the moment she takes a big toke on the rib before biting into her Montechristo 2. Damn you nanny state for seeing to that scenario. Still, this cellar and former brewery retains the requisite magic to believe it could happen. The Hawksmoor concept remains achingly simple and unwavering. You come here for big steak. Porterhouse, ribeye, Tomahawk, Chateaubriand. You order chips to go with it and you order a choice of robust sides to go with the chips and you sit there squeezing in cow flesh fearlessly wherever there’s still room in the duodenum. It was a hit when it opened in Shoreditch in 2006. It’s still a hit now. 18 years sourcing and cooking basically the same thing every day has made them experts in their field. They understand the chasm between medium and medium rare. They know how to carve up a tomahawk so that all you have to do is hover your fork and decide which piece next. The effort of dropping the fork onto the meat and lifting it to the mouth requires energy and therein lies the secret of your perpetual motion. They leave just enough meat on the bone to tempt those who understand life is too short not to grab it like a Rottweiler would if it only had hands. A Porterhouse to share and a ribeye for birthday boy. Chunky chips all round. Sauces of peppercorn and Bernaise. Spinach - creamed for those who need lubrication to get green stuff down or a simpler lemony version. Mac and cheese for plugging any holes. But before this, just to prime the gut like a Tesla does to its battery before a supercharge, Scallops in garlic sauce and bone marrow on toast. All come in prime condition. Garlic, butter and parsley can make a garden snail edible so what’s not to like about bathing well burnished scallops in the same brew? Nothing as it turns out. Marrow comes in the shin bone that housed it sliced vertically down the middle. Two half pipes. It all slips down very easily. I’m already sweating umami. Steaks come without pretension. The Porterhouse has been dissected, the ribeye untouched. Accompanying sauces stick without cloying. Mac and cheese is unnecessary and they knew this when they devised the menu. For this reason they make it great, just for those brave enough to take it on. Nice touches like the crispy crumb demonstrate the care. When it’s this simple it should be flawless and they oblige. The lemon in my spinach wasn’t an apology and all the better for it. That’s the key to the whole thing. No apologies. Chips are crispy, fluffy and chunky. Is there anything more you could ask from a chipped potato? The combination of these things is eminently satisfying to the extent that eating becomes painful. The machismo and bravado the Hawksmoor elicits in women and men alike turns the meal into a war of attrition. Human v food. Human wins, just. I remember going to the original Hawksmoor in Commercial Rd soon after it opened in 2006. I was taken aback by the quality and simplicity of the fare but less enthralled by the venue. The Hawksmoor group neatly saw to that when they opened the Covent Garden branch. It’s big, it’s simple, it’s powerful and after 18 years it’s still a thrill to descend into this cave, even if the ascent two hours later is...

​From the moment you step off the bustling Air Street, the Hawksmoor experience is defined by a warmth that is both immediate and genuine. The reception and service are what truly sets this restaurant apart, creating an atmosphere that is not just elegant but deeply welcoming. The staff greet you with a genuine smile and an enthusiasm that makes you feel less like a customer and more like a cherished guest being welcomed home. ​This exceptional level of hospitality is the true heart of the Hawksmoor experience. Our waiter was a true professional, deeply knowledgeable about every cut of steak, every wine on the list, and every ingredient used in the kitchen. They offered insightful recommendations with a friendly and unpretentious demeanor, making the entire ordering process feel effortless and enjoyable. This personalized attention, combined with the seamless flow of the evening, is what elevates dining at Hawksmoor from a simple meal to a truly unforgettable occasion. ​And while the service creates the perfect backdrop, the food is, of course, a star in its own right. The menu is a celebration of quality, with the star of the show being the magnificent, ethically sourced beef. My sirloin steak was a work of art, a perfect example of what happens when a premium product is treated with respect and expertise. It was cooked to a flawless rare, with a beautiful, flavourful crust that gave way to a tender, juicy interior that practically melted in my mouth. ​Hawksmoor’s magic extends far beyond its steaks. The supporting cast of sides is just as compelling. The triple-cooked chips, crispy and golden on the outside and fluffy on the inside, are the stuff of legend. The creamed spinach and mac & cheese are rich, satisfying, and utterly delicious, providing the perfect accompaniment to the main event. For starters, the classic prawn cocktail, generous in its size and perfectly balanced in flavour, was a refreshing and delightful introduction to the meal. ​Hawksmoor is more than a restaurant; it’s an institution. It’s the kind of place you go to for a truly memorable celebration. For anyone seeking not just a phenomenal meal, but a complete dining experience built on unparalleled hospitality, Hawksmoor on Air Street delivers an experience that is nothing short of...

Sunday roast at Hawksmoor was to be the crowning jewel in our return to London after a whole decade. It did not disappoint.

We arrived a few minutes late to the reservation (we did not account for how crowded Regent St would be LOL) but were accommodated and seated handily by the amazing staff upstairs and down.

My party of 5 ordered some oysters to start, then a couple of ribeye steaks to share between parents and kids, and I had to of course try the roast beef. The oysters were great as a start, brinier than any of the east/west coast Canadian types I'm used to. Served with an excellent mignonette (which I'm sure someone in the back is churning out by hand), they were polished off within minutes. Alongside all of the fixings we had some sodas and myself a couple of selections for whisky - old Scottish names I won't dare butcher in recollection here. The Yorkshire pudding, served with the dripping in a fancy little dispenser, somehow are the part I remember most, but the roast beef was lovely, tender with a ton of beefiness. The steaks, even more tender and done to a perfect medium rare. I was told in Europe a medium rare is a true MEDIUM RARE, possibly pinker than we North Americans are used to. I am happy to agree and enjoy it indeed.

Our server was a gentle giant of a man with a tattoo band around his left arm, and I am sorry but I forget his name - he was just the best. Very accommodating, witty, and great with recommendations but best of all attentive.

We were a hard sell on dessert, but cooler heads prevailed and we enjoyed a clotted cream ice cream, sticky toffee sundae, and the apple mille-feuille, though I could swear they used lemon instead of apple sorbet as the online menu states. Mind you I was a couple of whiskies in at this point. All heavenly, not too sweet but extra creamy in the way British dairy just is (we flew back partly for the milk, seriously).

This was not an inexpensive meal, but it was worth booking well in advance and saving for. Sunday roast, kids. Don't miss it.

Flight and hotel for next year have already been booked, and we will see you again, Hawksmoor. You'll really need to wheelbarrow me...