Locanda Locatelli reimagines Italian dining with dazzling seasonal dishes and an impressive wine list, all in a chic, intimate setting.
"Locanda Locatelli in Marylebone is one of those restaurants where you’re 99% convinced that everyone eating around you is either a reigning editor of a broadsheet, related to Helen Mirren, or is in fact, Helen Mirren. It’s expensive. It’s pretty la-di-da. And it just so happens to be home to the best gluten-free pasta in London. With pasta so good that you’ll inevitably ask your suited server if it is “definitely gluten-free” at least twice. This is the kind of fine dining Italian you hit up for a birthday or any special occasion that deserves a £50 bottle of wine. " - heidi lauth beasley, sinead cranna
"Locanda Locatelli in Marylebone is one of those restaurants where you’re 99% convinced that everyone eating around you is either a reigning editor of a broadsheet, related to Helen Mirren, or is in fact, Helen Mirren. It’s expensive. It’s pretty la-di-da. And it just so happens to be home to the best gluten-free pasta in London. With pasta so good that you’ll inevitably ask your suited server if it is “definitely gluten-free” at least twice. This is the kind of fine dining Italian you hit up for a birthday or any special occasion that deserves a £50 bottle of wine." - Team Infatuation
"It may be into its third decade, but Giorgio Locatelli's restaurant still looks as dapper as ever. Its enduring popularity is down to both its owner's passion and the great Italian cooking that the kitchen produces. The hugely appealing menu covers many regions of Italy and provides plenty of choice – including some terrific pasta dishes. Portions are generous and unfussy presentation allows the bold, punchy flavours to shine. The superb Italian wine list features an outstanding range of wines from Tuscany and Piedmont." - Michelin Inspector
"Giorgio Locatelli’s Italian restaurant Locanda Locatelli has one star." - Eater Staff
"There is something darkly thrilling about the clandestine debauchery that takes place behind the heavy baize of Giorgio Locatelli’s Mayfair bordello: a Lecter-ish elegance to the way very nice Chiantis are decanted by candlelight and silken mounds of fresh pasta ripple with butter, Parmesan, white truffle. A room upstairs in the Churchill Hotel is the logical end-point to a meal where the ecstatic suggestiveness of a blowout dinner is rarely far from the surface." - George Reynolds