It began, as many good evenings do, with a casual plan for dinner and drinks. A friend and I had been meaning to try Sucre for a while, so we booked a table for a Thursday night, expecting a decent meal and a catch-up. What we got instead was a full-blown experience, equal parts theatre, fire and very good fondant.
Set in a 310-year-old building in the heart of Soho, Sucre makes a strong first impression. The scent of open-fire cooking greets you at the door, followed by the visual drama of glittering chandeliers fashioned from cut-glass decanters. It feels glamorous without being stuffy, lively but not chaotic – the sort of place that knows exactly who it is.
An Opening Act of Smoke and Flair
We started at the bar with cocktails. Mine was the Peperita, made with green pepper-infused tequila, chilli and lime. A bold choice for a school night, but surprisingly easy to drink. The food followed swiftly, and it didn’t waste time easing us in.
The red Alistado prawns were a highlight – delicately charred, drenched in olive oil and citrus, and just the right side of indulgent. The beef and chilli empanadas vanished before we could pretend to be polite about sharing. As for the chicken hearts glazed in Malbec and dark chocolate, they were unexpectedly moreish. Admittedly not everyone’s go-to starter, but if you’re going to be brave, this is the place to do it.
The Main Attraction
We shared the Iberico pork Matambre for our main, which arrived looking every bit the showstopper. Smoky, juicy, and perfectly cooked, it was proof that restraint can be overrated. The shellfish rice with mussel aioli and langoustine was another hit – rich, comforting and cleverly balanced.
Dessert was non-negotiable. I ordered the dulce de leche fondant, which delivered everything you hope for from a fondant: molten, warm, and so delicious I momentarily forgot to offer my friend a bite. She went for the poached pear with whipped Jersey yoghurt, which she described as “elegant” – a word no one has ever used for me after dessert.
A Secret Worth Discovering
We were ready to call it a night when our lovely server mentioned Downstairs at Sucre. Naturally, curiosity (and FOMO) won. One discreet staircase later, we found ourselves in what felt like a secret cocktail lounge. The mood shifted completely – think low lighting, velvet seating, exposed brick and a DJ spinning Latin beats. It had the sort of understated cool that can’t be faked.
I ordered the Inmigrante, a mezcal-based cocktail with just enough bite to make me forget I had an early morning. That spin class never did happen. The crowd was relaxed, the music spot on, and the overall vibe more intimate than your average Soho basement bar. It’s the kind of place where you end up staying for “just one more” far longer than intended.
Final Bites
Sucre isn’t just about dinner, and Downstairs isn’t just a bar. Together, they make for a seamless evening that starts with fire and ends with funk – the restaurant equivalent of “business in the front, party at the back”. The food is confident and exciting without trying too hard. The cocktails are clever, the setting polished, and the atmosphere just the right mix of refined and unbuttoned.
For what began as a low-key Thursday plan, it turned into a night I’d happily repeat. Next time, I might even pretend I planned it that way.
@sucre.london
47b Great Marlborough St, London W1F 7JP
