If, like me, you’re a language nerd you’ll be interested in the shifting semantic sands of hospitality. The etymology of ‘gastropub’ itself can be traced back to Farringdon’s The Eagle in the 1990s of course, though it now seems passé to use that word. That said, there was a clearer delineation back then and you knew what to expect from the description or name. Now things are as blurred and disorientating as a cataract. We’re in a strange age where offices have become coffee shops, coffee shops have become offices, bread has become a “course” and tap water is rarely free (though one thing remains true: The Devonshire is still impossible to get in to).
The name of a venue is the essential identifying label any restaurateur or publican chooses but these can be rife with confusion too. I said in my review of The Waterman’s Arms that it still has the hallmarks of a pub, though is about 90% restaurant (while The Sportsman is really a restaurant – you’re not allowed to waltz in for a pint without a lunch or dinner booking so how can it be a pub?). Now hiding in plain sight amongst the blue bloods and stucco terraces of Belgravia is The Elizabeth. The regal name sounds like a boozer, and you’d be forgiven for making that assumption as it’s part of the same group as The Hunter’s Moon and The Apollo Arms, but it is far from a pub really, the claret banquettes, cocktail bar at the front and Gallic menu making it much more of a bistro. (This place has its own intriguing history, being previously called Ganymede, the son of Tros in Greek mythology and one of Jupiter’s moons.)
In any case, a Huntress Negroni (£13) quelled any concerns over nomenclature and was a prelude to a great meal here. On the food front, owner Hubert Beatson-Hird (of the Lunar Pub Company) has brought in Anthony Demetre as culinary director. Demetre needs no introduction of course – he is one of London’s best Francophile chefs who spent the early part of his career with the late Gary Rhodes – and here he has created a love letter to France, even if he perhaps guides the restaurant rather than cooks every day (he also runs the Michelin-starred Wild Honey St James, its casual off-shoot Bistrot at Wild Honey and Vermuteria in Coal Drops Yard, so he can’t be everywhere at once). I imagine being culinary director is more like Brad Pitt’s role as executive producer of the Netflix series Adolescence (yes, I was surprised as you seeing his name in the credits) but they can still be hands-on and on this visit the cooking didn’t suffer at all. Indeed, I could barely fault a thing. The service was on point too, though as it was quiet there were moments where it felt like you were being observed from the sidelines like a waxwork in development.
One of London’s quieter new openings this year, I have high hopes for The Elizabeth
I hope it gets a wee bit busier for everyone’s sake, especially as you’ll be missing out on some great food. Starting with the duck, pork and guinea fowl terrine, this may have looked plain – if it was plastered on a billboard I doubt it would stop traffic – but there is always more than meets the eye. Crikey it was good, from the pastry casing to the layers of flavour and textures within. Clearly a lot of work had gone in to it. All I can say is “chapeau.”
Duck, pork and guinea fowl terrine
Rabbit “It has to be mustard”, carrots, persillade
Rum baba
The menu has nods to elsewhere in Europe too – take for instance the ribollita (a Tuscan vegetable soup with cavolo nero) or the Greek-leaning whipped cod’s roe with vegetables and pitta – but it ultimately circles back to a meat-oriented France.
As London is already saturated with mid-level French restaurants, I worried there wouldn’t be any point of difference but pleasingly there are distinctive spins on classics. Bouchon Racine is known for its lapin à la moutarde, for example, but the version here (amusingly called “Rabbit, ‘It has to be mustard’, carrots, persillade”) (£34) isn’t a carbon copy of Henry Harris’ take. The rabbit here was served three ways with an intense pool of jus as well as mustard sauce, offal and rolled saddle. Finished with a trio of carrots arranged (perhaps unintentionally) like the Isle of Man flag, this was an astounding dish, and very satisfying too. To accompany it, some Koffmann fries from the legendary Pierre (who also needs no introduction).
Desserts are unabashedly old school: a crème brûlée, a chocolate mousse, cheese from La Fromagerie – what could possibly go wrong? As for the rum baba (£9) there was no copying of Josephine’s tableside carving gimmick either. Beige, unfussy and cut right down the middle with a judicious dollop of whipped cream, this was more moist, and I daresay better, than Josephine’s.
The cost can give some pause for thought though. If you don’t go for the set lunch or early dinner menu (sensibly priced at £29.50 for three courses, which is more or less commensurate with Noble Rot Mayfair), you can clock up quite a bill, especially when you throw in a side of Koffmann fries (at £7) or a martini (£16) (this à la carte meal (with wine and service) came to £100 per head). But these are quality ingredients in capable hands, in a comfortable setting within the royal environs of Belgravia; you won’t leave thinking you just had a bag of pork scratchings at a pub with the same name, so it does all even out to some extent.
One of London’s quieter new openings this year, I have high hopes for The Elizabeth.
139 Ebury Street
London
SW1W 9QU
December 2025
