London

Yuki Bar, Noble Rot, The Yellow Bittern.

Next London trip will be dedicated to martinis and Indian flavors, but here are my notes from a short trip in late 2025.

YUKI BAR

Literally housed within the brick overpass of an active train line, and you can certainly order a performative glass of orange wine and bowl of olives and impress your date with ‘the owner here was the somm at Noma..” and move on to the next Hackney winebar, or you can lock the fuck in. Casually serving Lalocura Tobasiche as your house mezcal pour is such an astonishing flex for £11… then you see their bottle list, a murderers row of culty-allocated producers, with most bottles well under £75. That there is a printed list to begin with, and not some negotiation of vibes to determine which bottles the guest is offered, is worth praise in 2026.

I selected a Chenin from Mai & Kenji Hodgeson, these have been a mixed bag for me in past experiences, but for this price, I was willing to gamble. Yuki also offered their other cuvee, not listed on the current list, but I preferred to test the waters with lower hanging fruit before committing to vielle vignes bottle. We had a taste, and I believe both experienced the same sense of relief and satisfaction and faith restored in Loire Chenin. They have nailed the harvest in a hot vintage… neither picked too early to drink brittle and austere, nor too late when the acidity has fallen out, and successfully fermented with no signs of problematic VA or mouse. This bottle brought just the right tart fruit, subtle oxidative tones and salinity for Yuki’s brothy/dashi/soup-girl type dishes - especially the clay pot steamed monk fish with courgette and tomato. I got there early in the evening before I was due to leave for a dinner across town, so I’m biding my time to return with friends at prime time and run the full gamut.

The Parisians obviously have an abundance of access to wine and talented cooks, and despite that, Yuki is offering comparable accessibility, with distinctly his own vision of ‘wine bar food’, and a level of competence and professionalism that’s rare across the channel.

NOBLE ROT - LAMB’S CONDUIT

Their first location, an idyllic setting on the patio, but don’t expect an overflow of lush drinkers on sidewalk drinking something neon like you would in Paris (the neighbors have imposed a higher level of decorum). A crackling wood fire and candle lights inside the front parlour room. Despite being on the early important wine bars, and perhaps imitated all over, they remain distinctive today in how they’re incapable of cringe. Their staff and curation is so earnestly driven by substance in a way that defies current fashions.

With that said, the chalkboard with cellar selections by the glass can be a dangerous game. In theory this is a democratic way to make these more rarified bottles more accessible, but the Coravin, as a means to preserve open bottles is not all it’s cracked up to be. 2013 Pierre Gonon Saint-Joseph, a producer I adore, but I’ve missed the window on this bottle. I hoped for some blood soaked tertiary decay at this age, but maybe the ripeness/extraction was lacking in 2013, that resulted in a more lifted style (like their Les Iles Feray) that peaks during its youth. The fruit in the glass was tired/pruned from inevitable air exposure…. all that’s to say, with a list of over a dozen selections poured by coravin, pushing upwards of £60-100/glass, tread carefully - having some insights or the confidence to inquire the vintage/extraction/elevage of a given wine (and nerve to decline after a taste) are vital.

On my second visit, chilled langoustines with aioli and glasses of Lambert Saumur blanc and Coulée de Serrant, completed the experience on a high note.

THE YELLOW BITTERN

Much ink has been spilled over the proprietors of TYB; I went in unread, knowing only that my host is friends with the owners and second hand accounts from my mother, who adored her meal there, and from what I could glean, lunch only in an intimate dining room attached to a bookstore, one chef doing it all with a couple induction burners and maybe a small oven… seasonal dishes, local product, unfussy preparations, just the sort of twee and charming set up that would garner lots of press these days. Confident in my host’s taste, I went into lunch unread - as an American I have no grasp of the value proposition/class politics of lunch at The Yellow Bittern in sterling, but if anything I trust Vittles’ take on these matters.

Distant chalkboards for menus and wine list come off as familiar, old school French bistro; stubby Riedel water glasses for wine (as at Le Baratin, etc) as well. For doing up to two daily seatings of only lunch, with the absolute minimum of labor, and ensuring no waste, the prefix model was inevitable - £50 (+£20 supplement of ½ dozen oysters and Irish cheese course). The wine on offer is French, a concise list of a dozen bottles listed on the board. The main course required red wine - Claire Naudin was enticing but not 2021s, there Herve Sauhout Syrah, and a serviceable rightbank/satellite Bordeaux for the British palette. My host asked Hugh to rummage any other bottles of substance to consider for the meal. We settled on a Languedoc syrah with some bottle age (2015), and glasses of champagne to start with oysters. And don’t mistake the lack of tweezers and micro-greens here for a lack of precision; you are eating uncompromised product, Hugh’s sauces and braises are tight, full fat, and pastry is flawless.

Connemara oysters - impeccably shucked, massive deep cupped oysters, submerged in liquor; maybe the meatiest oyster with brine and mineral ratcheted to 10 I’ve had.

Leek potato and carrot soup in the Basque style, Irish soda bread and butter - perfect soup, soda bread and butter lovely on their own, but does not function as scarpetta like continental European yeasted bread.

Vol au vent of wild mushroom fricassee - this is how it’s done, no notes.

Wine braised beef cheeks and gratin dauphinois - buttery and tender, not shreddy braised cheeks, and no mushy veg. The mountain of dauphinois somehow retains all its textures; layers of just cooked potato, well seasoned and reduced cream, and a chewy gruyere frico. I was concerned with heat and ripeness on the 2015 southern rhone syrah, but inshallah the bottle was in a great place - gently burnished fruit and dried herbs de provence with fully resolved structure. Reflecting back, incorporating some greens in this meal would have gone a long way. But I’m sympathetic to the labor and space required to rinse and dry greens in a small kitchen; easier said than done.

Irish cheeses

Pear tarte with clotted cream - at this point I’m about to flatline, and could have used a glass of eau de vie. I wouldn’t be surprised if they carried just the thing, but being uninitiated here (and offered no menu) I did not inquire.

I’ve done the math and approximated this same meal at Pastis (not even at the pricier Le Diplomate, etc) and you’re running a tab of no less than $124 before gratuity and beverage, so any groanings of the prices here (touche for Hugh to call out Ottelanghi on his restaurants wine markups on the same bottles he serves) The Yellow Bittern prices. Prix fixe lunch in Paris is ubiquitous - perhaps 2 ½ courses, 30ish euros, a relaxed and complete meal. Days of the Three Martini lunch in America are long gone. The British are the last hold outs on the big fuck off luncheon. A lunch of this magnitude should be a blow out, much like when close friends travel from town and you gather with your best bottles for an abundant feast, and from every account, Hugh Corcoran is personally invested in fostering very much this experience - 1 bottle of wine per person, plus digestif spirits, and what you do with the rest of your day is beyond me. And I’m keen to know if corkage is an option here, on the condition of buying a bottle of their list - this would go a long way in fighting the allegations of pretension/inaccessibility of The Yellow Bittern. You cannot reasonably expect a small restaurant to stock a range and depth of wine selections - BYO would fill in the gaps for the custies - the Souhault Syrah as an aperitif/between courses, into a more stout Cote Rotie from your own cellar, for to share with Hugh and the crew. From my petite-bourgeois American mind, I reject the premise of this meal at midday - predictably, I yearn to have dinner at The Yellow Bittern lit only by taper candles. I have to assume this is a lifestyle choice for Hugh & Frances; but worth considering if their imposition is the point; that taking the afternoon off should not be relegated only to profligate Mayfair club members - you too have the agency to slam the laptop shut, take your dog on a long walk, smoke a cigar, run a bath, contemplate your mortality, and just simply reject the notion of ‘productivity’ for the rest of your day.