They Say
Maggie Jones’s has been a favourite haunt among Kensington locals for over 40 years. Cosy, rustic, informal and incurably romantic, the restaurant is tucked away in a little cul-de-sac between Kensington High Street and Kensington Church Street. Maggie’s is warm, friendly and traditional, with a generous menu full of classic dishes, beautifully cooked.
The Style
A bastion of 60s eccentricity in the heart of Kensington, and as English as its sister restaurant (Le Poule au Pot in Belgravia) is French, Maggie Jones is named after Princess Margaret, who used to book under the alias when living around the corner with Anthony Armstrong-Jones. The interior houses a mishmash of rustic knick-knacks that could have been (and probably were) picked up in Portobello Road: an old milk churn, wicker baskets holding bunches of dried flowers, a huge wooden dresser laden with copper pans, pretty china teapots and an old-fashioned weighing machine painted dark green. Candles dripping wax in old wine bottles flicker atmospherically, a warm and welcoming contrast to the dark, blustery evening outside.
The Crowd
Seated at the next table is a very Kensington family: bored husband glued to his phone talking business with the City for half the evening, pretty blonde mum in skinny jeans and over-the-knee suede boots, three boisterous kids whose ubiquitous iPads are not quite the calming influence perhaps intended. Halfway through our meal, a massive group from Alabama is greeted by the Maitre d’ and then led upstairs; it transpires that they are all pilots in the US Air Force and their wives, staying at the nearby Holiday Inn. When I go upstairs to the loo, there’s a slightly different atmosphere: very jolly, very Sloaney, with large communal tables filled with punters in varying degrees of intoxication. Later, the voices coming from Princess Margaret’s secret alcove are that all-too-familiar combination of posh girls with rich, foreign-sounding (probably Russian) men.
The Food
My husband starts with a stilton mousse. His notes say ‘lovely and light, served with baby spinach and 8 – underlined 3 times – an explanatory ‘(too much) triangles of toast’ to follow. This generosity of spirit continues in my large slice of leek and cheese tart, which is delicious, wobbly and rich, with barely-there buttery pastry.
Andy’s main course is roast guinea fowl. ‘2 legs and 1 breast, crispy skin, well-seasoned,’ he wrote. He doesn’t like things under-seasoned. They are accompanied by buttery mashed potato, new potatoes (equally generous with the butter) and some nicely done veg – green beans and carrot puree. I go for the sea bream in a fennel sauce. The fish is exemplary, with a lovely golden crust, and the sauce unctuous and subtle – my notes say ‘not bland, despite little discernible aniseedy kick.’ Both pretty stuffed after our first two courses, we share a chocolate pot for pudding, but somehow find room for it.
The Drink
We have a couple of bottles of Muscadet and some pudding wine (probably Sauternes), and thoroughly enjoy all of it.
In a Nutshell
Friendly and unpretentious Kensington local selling really scrumptious comfort food in rustic bohemian surroundings.
The Details
6 Old Court Place, Kensington Church Street, London W8 4PL; 020 7937 6462.
bookings@maggie-jones.co.uk; www.maggie-jones.co.uk
