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Hotel restaurants are tricky characters – some can be quite forgettable, while others manage to completely outshine the hotel. And somehow, Dear Jackie manages to do both. Set in the basement of the new Broadwick Soho, the atmospheric restaurant epitomises the hotel’s bold and playful persona. Grinning doormen in bowler hats and bowties (think The Grand Budapest Hotel) whisk you through the glossy pink front door, escorting you through buzzing Bar Jackie (a more casual all-day eatery on the ground floor) and down to the mysterious Dear Jackie.
They’ve tried to make it feel like you’re being given access to an exclusive member’s club here – and it works. There’s a thrill as you descend the dark neon-lit stairs and emerge into the glamorous dining room with its crimson silk walls and Sicilian ceramic table tops.
It’s pleasingly kitsch, flamboyant and fabulous, like a more sophisticated version of the Big Mamma restaurants
The whole interior is like a maximalist’s wet dream: floral patterned cosy banquets, hand-painted plates all over the walls, candy-striped lamps in Murano glass, red velvet chairs and lavish golden trimmings. And be sure to pay a visit to the red terrazzo toilets. It’s pleasingly kitsch, flamboyant and fabulous, like a more sophisticated version of the Big Mamma restaurants. The music is loud, the lights are low, the friendly waiters are overdressed, the corners are full of cosy dates and there’s a sense that diners are here to have a Big Night Out.
Alas, the food is where the more forgettable aspect comes in – the short Italian menu gets rather overshadowed by the highly memorable decor. That’s not to say that the flavours don’t pack a punch, they really do, but some swing a bit too hard: our spaghetti vongole was so salty with bottarga that the clams didn’t stand a chance. Meanwhile the strong black olives in the rich braised rabbit pappardelle were also an overpowering addition, even if satisfying fresh homemade pasta worked hard to save both dishes. Our mains were similarly underwhelming with beautifully seared yellowfin tuna being confused with a mediocre agrodolce and heavy-handed flourish of oregano.
But all hail the crispy fried and crushed rosemary pink fir potatoes – a real must-order. The other smaller plates were also the standout dishes. Smooth, salty and morish bagna càuda with satisfyingly crunchy radicchio, radish and sweet carrot crudités; silky sea bass crudo with fennel and orange; and a beautifully cooked scallop on a creamy champagne sauce with punchy pops of fish roe and finger lime.
My advice is to go heavy on the sharing plates and starters (and don’t forget those potatoes) and see them as a classy aperitivo to accompany a heady cocktail list. Because let’s be real, this place isn’t really about the food; it’s all about the vibe and that it gets pitch perfect.
The vibe Opulent member’s club meets cosy Sicilian bordello.
The food Heavily-seasoned Italian classics. Go big on the small plates.
The drink A decent selection of Italian wines with a premium list for those with cash to splash.
Time Out tip Book a table at rooftop bar Flute for a sundowner aperitivo on the terrace or a raucous post-prandial tipple.