Restaurant of the Week: Sale e Pepe Mare

There’s a glitzy old guard of Italian restaurants in London. Institutions that established themselves long before the recent hype. Where celebrities would saunter in on any given day, heels click-clacking across marble floors, before sitting down at a white tablecloth with a bottle of Champagne waiting on ice. Places like Cipriani, whose maître d always greeted you by name, or Cecconis, where the green leather banquettes have absorbed decades of gossip.

Sale e Pepe, of course, is a stalwart of this scene. Opened in Knightsbridge in 1974, it has welcomed the great and the good – everyone from Rod Stewart and Priscilla Presley to George Clooney. For over 50 years, it carried the torch of 70s Italian glamour – bringing La Dolce Vita to the West End. Now, it’s done what every self-respecting Italian institution must: head to the coast, with the opening of its seafood-focused sister site, Sale e Pepe Mare.

And what better location than the Langham Hotel? Replacing the Landau – the hotel's former grande dame of French fine dining — it feels like the perfect metaphor for the London culinary scene right now: Italian sunshine edging out Gallic sophistication, one truffle at a time.

When you walk into the dining room, the first thing you’ll notice is the enormous bar. Three backlit arches loom large over the marble counter, with shelves upon shelves of bottles on display. Between the big blue velvet booths, the six-foot flower displays, or the pepper grinder as long as your arm, it seems scale is the theme du jour. 

Sitting down, the serenading sounds of jazz fill the air. As does the cooing couple on the table next to us, who look more than pleased with the double portion of lobster linguine that’s just been landed in front of them. Perhaps this won’t be a style-over-substance experience.

 The menu matches the room. It’s extensive and comprises the most beloved dishes from the original restaurant, peppered in places with some ultra high-end plates like the scallop mousse tart, with oscietra caviar, and a Champagne velouté, or the vast silver seafood towers. For the most part, however, it’s good old-fashioned Italian classics, playing a clever game of contrast between the comforting and the ultra-fresh.

Starting with the former, there’s the truffle arancini cicchetti – two crispy orbs of cheesy goodness that are gone almost as soon as they’re laid down – and the aubergine parmigiana, served with a standout tomato sauce. The kind you imagine simmering away on a Nonna’s stove any given Sunday. That warm, reassuring vibe returns with the arrival of the tiramisu towards the end of the meal, which, when served from a tray, leans unapologetically into the sense of familial nostalgia. 

As for the fresh, we order this in spades. In part, because the menu is designed that way. After all, if the seafood wasn’t fresh at a Sale e Pepe restaurant or The Langham, there’d be trouble. The cast-iron grilled prawns are the first example – served jumbo-sized and juicy, arriving in a briny waft. While the accompanying pepperoncino and burnt garlic aren’t groundbreaking, it’s an effective sign of restraint, letting the quality of the prawns do all the heavy lifting. Much like the white wine and bottarga in the linguine alla vongole that follows, which elevates the clams without ever overwhelming them. It's particularly good when paired with the sommelier-selected crisp, white Borgo Selene’s Catarratto/Inzolia. Grown in Sicily, its citrus perfumes and hint of Mediterranean flowers bring nuance to the dish, cutting through the richness of the bottarga and egg pasta.

Where Sale e Pepe truly shines is with its tableside theatrics. While we’re deciding what to order, I peek over the top of my menu as my attention is grabbed by flames licking a whole salt-baked seabass. Equally, there’s a roaming Champagne trolley wheeling its way around the tables, showcasing all the heavyweight labels – Krug, Bollinger, Dom Pérignon. The real showstopper is the cacio e pepe, spun tableside around a hollowed-out wheel of pecorino. It may be a little kitsch, but the charm still works on me. After being tossed and twirled, the bucatini emerges all glossy and peppery – though it could have done with a slightly heavier hand on the seasoning.

The lemon tart at dessert provides the reset button. Sour enough to put hair on your chest, its citrus bite is mellowed by the piped and slightly torched meringue, which adds a sweetness, while the creaminess below smooths everything into balance.

Ultimately, Sale e Pepe Mare isn’t trying to reinvent Italian dining. This is not a place for experimentation. And it doesn’t pretend to be. You come for the dishes you know and already love, served in a glamorous and buzzy setting, with excellent service. It’s a version of Italian cuisine that’s stood the test of time and a reminder that when something is done well, it doesn’t need changing.