Like a Sturgeon
- L.S.
- Nov 22, 2024
- 2 min read
Bangle visits Madonna’s former stomping ground for a slice of quotidian glamour
If you turn your back on the stark lines of Park Lane and venture east into the heart of Mayfair, you’ll discover a part of west central London which feels surprisingly lived in.
During winter months, the twinkling lights of South Audley Street are a far cry from the gaudiness of Oxford Circus; you’ll even find a local primary school and proper community feel on South Street, nestled between the dreamy, terraced houses, which - understandably - rarely change hands.
The Punch Bowl, on neighbouring Farm Street, has the distinct old-school charm of other iconic London pubs like the Pineapple in Kentish Town. Once owned by Guy Ritchie and Madonna, this Butcombe boozer is a real home-from-home, with cosy fireplaces, William Morris wallpaper, dried flower arrangements and quirky light fittings. The building itself dates from the middle of the eighteenth century, and as such, it’s a listed building. The Butcombe group has acquired a clutch of similarly nostalgic properties across the home counties and West Country, not least the boutique inns, the George and the Loxford in Somerset. With decent lager and largely unpretentious grub, you can’t go too far wrong.
Upstairs, Judy’s dining room is a genuinely chic space which feels both intimate and convivial. My advice? Unless you’re mad keen on oysters, skip straight to the Cornish halibut. It’s not a fish found commonly on à la carte menus, with seabass and Dover sole being far more ubiquitous. It’s meatier, more substantial, and a worthier rival of me-old-mucker’s steak. With sides of moyenne fries and garlic-buttered mushrooms to share, conversation flowed nicely, even if I’m now kicking myself for not sampling the house cocktail, with white rum and amaretti liqueur. As it was Monday night, I happily nursed a couple of glasses of Arte de Argento Malbec instead and was thankful I left room for the Tiramichoux bun: a top-quality pastry filled with coffee cream and topped with melted chocolate. I was only a little envious of my companion’s photogenic figgy pudding and matching old fashioned, and he wasn’t inclined to share.
Given its associations with rock and roll royalty, the pub has a reputation, historically, for debauchery. We saw none of that at the beginning of the working week, but I like to think weekend punters still have the required swagger to disturb the peace from time to time.
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