From Pall Mall with Love.

For anniversary year number eight, we chose to celebrate at Wild Honey St James, a boutique Michelin starred restaurant. It is situated inside the grand Sofi Hotel on the corner of Pall Mall. Though just a stone’s throw from the bright lights of Piccadilly, it manages to feel tucked away—a high-ceilinged sanctuary with high arched windows and soft lighting. Entering in, you’re greeted first by a long striking bar with a bistro—not your average bistro. It feels confident and intentional but also it’s as if everything has slowed down. Step just beyond that and you are in the small dining area of the restaurant, which has far fewer covers than I expected. The dim overhanging lights and slightly up-tempo music created a chilled yet undeniably romantic atmosphere.

Our dinner began with warm sourdough and salted butter. The bread had excellent texture and balance. Too often sourdough arrives dry or overly crisp, which can ruin the experience. This was spot on—soft, structured, and enjoyable from the first bite.

For starters, my wife chose the chicken with truffles, while I opted for the Jerusalem artichoke ravioli. The chicken succulent and deeply flavoured, punctuated with shavings of black winter truffle throughout. Impressive—but it was completely outshone by the ravioli. You could label it “simple Italian,” but the diversity of flavour and texture on that plate was phenomenal. Every component added its own character. This dish felt thoughtful and deliberate, and it left a lasting impression.

A true test for the restaurants we visit is how they treat our son. Each year, we take him with us to every Michelin-starred restaurant we visit. Some establishments draw a hard line when it comes to children—but not here. Almost every staff member who passed our table took the time to speak with him. While there was no children’s menu, our waiter went above and beyond, speaking with the chef and arranging a freshly made pasta dish just for our son. That level of care matters.

For mains, we chose the grilled sirloin beef with crisp Anna potatoes and the Aynhoe Park venison, barbecued over binchotan coals. We both preferred the venison. Personally, sirloin has never been my favourite cut. While the flavour difference between cuts can be subtle, texture is where it really shows. Sirloin has a denser muscle structure with less intramuscular fat, giving it a chewier mouthfeel than something like ribeye. The venison, on the other hand, delivered a rich, gamey depth paired with a beautifully smooth sauce.

I love a good sauce. It’s one of the most fascinating aspects of cooking to me. A great sauce can redefine a dish—its appearance, its balance, its aftertaste. In many ways, the reputation of a main course lives or dies by its sauce.

I remarked to my wife again on how small the restaurant felt. In my experience, smaller dining rooms invite greater attention to detail. It’s one of the reasons I love visiting restaurants during quieter services. The staff truly see you. The food receives the time, tenderness, and affection it deserves.

As is tradition for me, I asked the server what he thought was the best dessert on the menu. He suggested the custard—which I was secretly hoping he wouldn’t. Custard has never been my thing. It’s perhaps the one very British staple I’ve never warmed to. Still, against my better judgement, I ordered it. My verdict, for desserts—“it has to be custard.” The Wild Honey ice cream was served alongside an actual piece of honeycomb, and that’s when it clicked. Wild Honey! A small moment of realisation that felt oddly satisfying.