First, let us tackle the name Saltie Girl, which, frankly, sounds less than delicious. Which parts of her are salty? Her armpits? Her toes? Her choice of language? The owners of Saltie Girl say the phrase is old Maine colloquial for mermaid, and have opened branches of this seafood-fixated restaurant in Boston, Los Angeles and, now, London. Over here, the name is just odd and slightly offputting, but then, when you’re selling lobster on waffle at £36 a throw, it’s not just the name that will be keeping casual passers-by at bay.
Saltie Girl has opened its London branch on North Audley Street in Mayfair, a stone’s throw from Selfridge’s in a locale that’s home to Apricity and Bibi, two restaurants I recommend everyone goes to if time, funds and occasion fit, both being outstanding examples of modern, innovative dining and fine service. Saltie Girl, on the other hand, is a highly expensive US import that sells shrimp cocktails, tinned fish and seafood towers, is backed by the people behind Meraki, and is aimed at their wealthy but not massively discerning audiences.
Helpfully, the prices are missing from the online menu, which is odd, because even the Rolex site allows you to know the cost of the Datejust 31 in 18-carat gold that you cannot afford. I certainly remember that the lobster on waffle was £36, because, when it arrived, I recall thinking that, for a restaurant making such a song and dance about its premium seafood cooked by experts, it felt a travesty simply to dunk the tail in a chunky batter and serve it on a bog-standard waffle. This was the kind of waffle anyone who has a Lakeland waffle iron gathering dust at home could make. And the lobster was not battered in a light, delicious tempura, but rather a thunder-some coating that distracted from the prized flesh beneath and made me very sad about the pointless demise of this glorious creature. For this amount of money and hype, that waffle should come in the shape of a mermaid and the lobster should be frosted with a seasoned tempura and served with some out-of-this-world, sweet-yet-piquant sauce, not with some forgettable, spicy maple syrup. The £18 shrimp cocktail, for that matter, should also be more than just prawns hooked around the rim of a bowl and served with a fruity slant on thousand island dressing. A small head of vadouvan-spiced cauliflower was properly delicious, though.
It is said that a picture paints a thousand words, and in recent times I have taken to leaving restaurants such as this and simply WhatsApping an image of a highwayman putting on his mask to denote paying the bill. In Saltie Girl’s defence, however, the service is delightful, the room is pretty and they’re doing some interesting things with tinned fish, meaning a £31 tin of prime bonito comes with fresh bread on a board with three lines of salt and some chopped lime. If you’re a fan of John West tinned anchovies, sardines and mackerel, it is beyond doubt that this leap in quality to suppliers such as Ortiz, Olasagasti and Groix & Nature will be life-enhancing, for these are the Rolls-Royces of the tinned fish world and the epitome of simple deliciousness. But Saltie Girl has simply opened the ring-pull and charged a big mark-up.
Still, there is something slapdash about this place that sits askew with the pricing and location. The pudding list features a sticky toffee sundae for £12, which for that price ought really to be a showstopper, but was instead a small, lacklustre glass filled with mainly toffee sauce, some ice-cream and a few rather dry pieces of sponge. We Brits have an illustrious tradition of adoring sticky toffee pudding; it is our downfall, and flies off every gastropub menu in the land. Even Toby Carvery, with its mint aero and vanilla ice-cream sundae with chocolate sauce, all served in a yorkshire pudding, has more largesse and pure imagination.
Some “baked to order” cookies were stickily underbaked in places and singed in others. Edible, yes – tasty, even – but this approach of sending out warm, half-cooked cookies seems to have become increasingly popular since proper pastry chefs fell victim to cost-cutting.
A word of advice: the pink neon LED display in the ladies’ toilet is bewitching and will encourage you to take a flattering selfie for Instagram next to the name Saltie Girl, but you will only invite a dozen smutty quips from mere acquaintances about your personal hygiene. The irony is that I was only recently showered and fragrant. It was only later on, when looking at the bill, that I felt decidedly saltie.
Saltie Girl 15 North Audley Street, London W1, 020-3893 3000. Open dinner only, Mon-Sat 5pm-midnight. From about £70 a head plus drinks and service.
The next episode in the fourth series of Grace’s Comfort Eating podcast is released on Tuesday 20 December. Listen to it here.
This artice was edited on 16 December 2022. An earlier version incorrectly said Saltie Girl London’s backers were from a different UK restaurant group.
