Number 12 Restaurant

7/10

Number 12 Restaurant, in Euston, treated me to an experience like no 
other.

I’d heard from a fellow restaurant reviewer that Number 12, named after 
its address on a rather long strip of hotels, is a popular haunt for 
foodies and business types, serving great food at reasonable prices. To 
ensure a table, I booked some time in advance.

From Euston station, my friend and I set off, in the snow, on our 
perilous journey in search of the said restaurant. According to our 
phone app directions, we had passed it. Retracing our snow prints, we 
reached our destination, a small and unimposing building attached to 
the hotel to which it belongs.

I expected it to be teeming with life; instead, it was completely 
empty, soulless. This was a unique experience, one like no other. We 
asked our waiter if we were the only booking for the night. Yes. His 
excuse for lack of custom was the snow outside; people would rather 
stay at home or in their hotel rooms. I couldn’t help but be cynical. 
After all, Prezzo, a few minutes away, was packed. Number 12’s 
emptiness was rather disconcerting at first, but one soon got used to 
it, delighting in the privacy given us, with the exception of the 
penetrating gaze of the staff.

Yet they weren’t so attentive as to notice our shivering. It was 
snowing outside, but was just as cold inside. All that toing and froing 
between kitchen and seating area must’ve made them insensible to the 
chill to which we’d been subjected. Try as I might, I could not convey 
to them the fact that we were cold; I shivered and I cupped my hands 
around my mouth and blew loudly, in a feeble attempt to warm them. I 
even went so far as to suspend them over the table candle. Perhaps I 
should have asked for my coat to really drill in the message.

Our food soon came and warmed us up – perhaps their not upping the 
temperature was an attempt to force us to appreciate the warmth and 
comfort of the food served to us. They needn’t have bothered to resort 
to such devious tactics. The food alone was good enough to raise us to 
the heights of appreciation and admiration. To start, I had the Dorset 
crab linguine with a tomato and chilli sauce, topped with basil. The 
sauce packed a punch, but I could taste neither chilli nor the subtle 
flavour of crab. It was slightly disappointing. I couldn’t resist 
digging into my friend’s dish of goat’s cheese and beetroot. The cheese 
was cloyingly rich and wonderful, sticking to the roof of my mouth, and 
the earthiness of the beetroot added both texture and flavour.

Equally successful was her main, fish pie. It was creamy and filled 
with scallops, prawns and salmon, lending the dish some bite. I had the 
chargrilled Italian wild boar sausages with polenta cream; the sausages 
were chunky and seasoned with various herbs and the polenta soft and 
velvety. The balsamic pearl onions, braised fennel and thyme jus 
elevated the dish from good to great. In this dish, the chef exhibits 
his great talent of balancing sweet and sour, as well as his ability to 
deliver big flavours. The desserts were as successful. The chocolate 
fondant was delectably rich; its gooey centre erupted when pierced, and 
mixed with the scoop of vanilla ice-cream sitting on top, offering a 
balance of hot and cold. The panettone pudding was light and sweet; 
rather than crème anglaise (custard to you and me), it was served with 
a white chocolate sauce, adding a subtler flavour. The pistachios added 
crunch and the hint of cinnamon another level of sweetness and spice. 
This mix of big and delicate flavours certainly made up for the 
linguine’s lack of subtlety.

The service was great. Despite not being so receptive to hints, members 
of staff were personable and attentive as regards food and wine, to be 
expected, given the emptiness of the restaurant. However, the décor was 
slightly dull, making me experience a strong sense of déjà vu upon 
being seated; was I on a ferry en route to Calais?

Overall, it was an enjoyable evening. The talented chef Charles Holtz 
and his team offer fine dining which is at the same time hearty and 
substantial. The menu is varied, with a range of dishes from both 
Britain and Italy. Critics may see Number 12 as a restaurant struggling 
to find its identity. But I feel that Holtz’s reconciliation of these 
flavours has enabled him to construct an identity different from his 
competition.

There are a few flaws, namely its location and interior decoration. The 
magnificence of nearby hotels overshadows it and the restaurant’s sign 
does little to stamp its presence. Moreover, its name does not 
contribute to its desire for individuality. If Number 10 Downing Street 
were to open a restaurant, I doubt they’d call it Number 10. A good 
name does wonders for a restaurant; The Fat Duck or Hedone, for 
example.

Nevertheless, the greatness of the food redeems these flaws; I wouldn’t 
say no to a return visit.


£77 for 2, including 2 glasses of wine.