I’ve often wondered why, at least psychologically, stars of stage and screen are attracted to the same glitzy openings like moths to a Maglite. As for their tacit endorsement, why trust their judgement on epicurean matters when, for most fame-hungry clientele, food is no more than a prop (and for the Ozempic red carpet habitués, not even that)? As such, I tend to steer clear of celebrity hangouts; the food quality drops in direct proportion to the hype. This is, of course, an assumption and like being guilty before being proven innocent may be a trifle unfair. Perhaps it helps your perception of a place if you manage to get a table on a coveted terrace, let alone at all (and here is a pro-tip for smoking hot Café Clement: if you go during a quieter patch or obscure time, like a Sunday evening, the terrace will be pretty much all yours; also, it appears spaces at the kitchen counter are readily available for walk-ins).
Located on the ground floor of the shiny new St Clement hotel (and soon to be followed by another restaurant upstairs, Lunette, led by Florence Knight), it’s an intriguing location. Being opposite Temple station and a stone’s throw from tranquil Middle Temple Gardens doesn’t immediately strike one as a natural home for a restaurant but the days of that Walkabout dive near the tube station are long gone; with Ikoyi and Toklas as neighbours, the revamped Simpson’s in the Strand nearby and OXO across the river being taken over by the Fallow fellas, it’s an exciting time on both sides of this part of the Thames. Back at Temple Place, the Cacklebean egg-centric breakfast at Café Clement alone could be a welcome addition, especially to set you up for a day of legal wrangling in the Royal Courts of Justice.
If the key question is whether I’d return, then yes I would
As for my first (but not last) dinner at Café Clement, finding the entrance was the first challenge – being so office-like amongst the stickle brick buildings of Arundel Street and Temple Place you could easily miss it (an air of Nick Jones’s Soho House exclusivity is unsurprising). But whatever prejudice I’d brought with me evaporated as the restaurant delivered a welcome far warmer than the private clinic feel of the hotel’s lobby.
With an option of either a banquette indoors or the terrace, the latter was an obvious choice, partly to see what all the fuss was about but also as Heatwave V was in its dying embers at this point. As it turned out, it isn’t a portal to some unattainable divine dimension: it’s just a terrace, about the width of a train carriage with a few plants to absorb fumes from the traffic and a view of Temple station, but still under the gaze of the attentive staff.
Scanning the menu over curtain-raising cocktails (more on which in a moment), you can easily criticise any modern British all-day café that offers a broad-brush mish-mash of food. (If, God forbid, Theresa May was ever a critic she’d say food of the world is food of nowhere.) True, were it not for the “C” emblazoned on each plate the tomato risotto (£30), sea bass carpaccio (£19) or the steak haché (£26) could be from anywhere. But none of this really matters when the food is enjoyable and executed well, and ex-River Café chef Danny Bohan clearly knows a thing or two about crowd-pleasers.
Scottish lobster omelette
Martini and bread selection
Roast prime rib and Tuscan roast potatoes
First off, they score points for the bread served automatically, something that is vanishingly rare these days but Nick Jones can be a pleasingly old school hotelier and restaurateur in some ways. Some of the snacks are clearly attuned to contemporary tastes though, such as the Parmesan custard with caviar, which is probably intended to be a signature (or darling of Instagram). This was a little deflating as an opening gambit: I was hoping for a creamier consistency, using the five accompanying crisps for scoopage, but alas the custard was quite firm. Meanwhile, the extra cheese grated on top looked like desiccated coconut and the crisps were a little wan and insipid. Perhaps I’ve been spoilt by Jackson Boxer’s sensational salt and vinegar crisps with smoked onion and trout roe at Vesper; if the aim is to do something similarly zeitgeisty at Café Clement then it’s a dish in development and not quite worth its £16 price tag (especially with the caviar bumping up the price).
But then everything was forgiven with the gruyère soufflé (£16). This had the perfect texture and inherent cheesiness, on a par with the Lincolnshire Poacher soufflé at Romano’s up the road. (And yes, I’m planning to write an article about London’s best soufflés.)
Then the Scottish lobster omelette (£36), one of the dearer items from an otherwise reasonably-priced menu. Served open and as flat as Norfolk, but laced with tarragon and sizeable, meaty chunks of lobster, this was a triumph.
Roast prime rib (£35) was also excellent, served ruby-rare, with a generous dollop of sinus-clearing horseradish sauce and plentiful Franco-Italian sides, including Tuscan roast potatoes, zucchini trifolati and leeks with more of that gruyère from the soufflé. Yes, it’s culturally promiscuous as a dish, taking a British roast dinner and gallivanting around the continent with it, but it was extremely satisfying.
While everything is sound in the food department the drinks offering is a work-in-progress. First, illustrations of cocktails (or worse, photos) are always a red flag for me but at least a serviceable off-menu gin martini wasn’t too much of a challenge, making my usual allowances for ‘restaurant martinis’ where there isn’t a dedicated bar (noting, out of fairness to the staff, the bar was closed on this visit). Really it’s the wine that needs some love. The current list is brief and while the servers did explain there’s more to come (indeed, the “full” list was just an A5 piece of card with a handful of more options, each exorbitant) some basic training may still be needed. When we asked for more detail about the mysterious “Clement Claret” (such as the dominant grape) the response was “er, it’s French.” It turned out to be rather lovely though – young like much of the Old World-leaning list, and more Merlot than Cabernet Sauvignon, but chosen with the menu in mind. Perhaps they’re not expecting guests to be so fussy but at £70 for a bottle it’s reasonable to expect a bit more information about it.
Overall, I had a good time at Café Clement – by no means fault-free and not quite the exhilarating experience suggested elsewhere (and no celebrities were spotted either). But if the key question is whether I’d return, then yes I would.
180 The Thames
12 Temple Place
London
WC2R 2NF
September 2026
