It was a Tuesday night in Knightsbridge, the kind where you tell yourself you’ll have one course, maybe two, and be tucked up by ten. But La Maison Ani doesn’t deal in early nights or quiet restraint. I was meeting two girlfriends I’ve known since my early twenties – women I’ve shared heartbreak, hour-long group chats and an embarrassing number of espresso martinis with. We’ve eaten our way through a lot of London. But this? This felt like Paris.
La Maison Ani sits just behind Sloane Street, polished and unbothered, like the kind of woman who wears white linen to dinner and never spills. It’s elegant without trying too hard. All soft lighting, golden accents and waiters who glide rather than walk. The kind of place where you lower your voice without meaning to.
We started with Crevettes tièdes à l’huile d’olive – warm prawns slicked in olive oil and basil that disappeared embarrassingly fast. Then a Salade de chou-fleur, a dainty pile of cauliflower dressed with Comté and toasted crumbs that had us all pretending we weren’t scraping the plate. The gnocchi arrived next, bathed in a creamy pink sauce and dotted with cherry tomatoes, rich but not heavy, and very much not for sharing.
Then came the Bar grillé en croûte de sel – salt-baked seabass so perfectly cooked it flaked at the mere suggestion of a fork. We nodded solemnly as we ate, as if in agreement that no seabass we’ve had before has truly counted.
And then, the Izu Burger. We passed it around like a relic of worship – a wagyu patty topped with melted Emmental and a tartar so smoky and complex we stopped trying to guess what was in it and just enjoyed the mystery. It’s not just a burger. It’s the burger.
We considered skipping dessert for all of ten seconds. The warm chocolate mousse for two was very quickly for three, and the Hokkaido milk ice cream that followed was airy, barely sweet, and quietly delightful – the sort of thing that leaves you plotting your return before the spoon hits the bowl.
Service was effortless and genuinely kind. Our glasses never ran dry (whether that’s a good thing depends on the kind of Tuesday you had – in our case, very much yes), and no one hinted we’d overstayed, even though we definitely had.
Though we were there for dinner, the breakfast menu caught our attention. Shakshuka with toasted baguette, eggs Florentine, and a signature plate with grilled halloumi and asparagus. Dangerous for anyone trying to keep weekday mornings virtuous.
La Maison Ani isn’t loud. It doesn’t need tricks or trends. It’s confident, classic, and just the right amount of indulgent. The kind of place that makes you forget you’re still in London, no boarding pass required, no need to channel Jess Glynne’s Jet2 energy. Just good food, polished service and a table you won’t want to leave.
We arrived full of good intentions. We left full of seabass, gnocchi, chocolate mousse and stories we probably shouldn’t have told out loud. Paris may always be a good idea. But La Maison Ani on a Tuesday night with your oldest friends? Even better.
The Carlton Tower, 1 Cadogan Pl, London SW1X 9PY
