All the world began with a yes, wrote Clarice Lispector. Tonight begins with Oui Madame.
The name helps. It has a kind of built-in agreement to it, which is useful, because by the time you step into Oui Madame in Highbury & Islington, you are already halfway into the sort of night where decisions are made quickly and, more importantly, rarely regretted.
The room is immediately calming, with white-painted floorboards, pale wood panels that look as though they could be driftwood but are bougie, wicker lights casting a forgiving glow. Oui Madame is also a perfect date restaurant with candlelit romantic gazes possible in every nook and Mediterranean cuisine with a hint of Asian influence served sharing style. What’s more, it’s an evening-only pop-up by restaurateur Martin Lange (of Islington favourite Salut), and it has snuck into the void left by its older brother, the Sawyer and Gray café, which is only open during the day.
Someone has hung rugs on the walls, which sounds like the sort of thing that should feel contrived but doesn’t. It works in the same way a well-chosen playlist works; you don’t notice it until you realise you’ve stopped thinking about everything else. Tonight, there’s music that, just like the décor, has something chilled and beachy about it.
David greets us with the sort of warmth that suggests we’ve made a good decision, and throughout the night, he and Ellen made everything smooth, easy and welcoming. There is a particular skill in guiding a table without making it feel guided, and they have it. You find yourself agreeing before you’ve fully processed the suggestion. Oui Madame.
A carafe of white wine arrived as we watched the evening light dimming outside. A Rótulo Branco 2020 from Niepoort, it was crisp, mineral, and the sort of wine that sharpens the edges of hunger rather than dulling them. It was, as it turns out, a very good idea.
Then small things began to land. Choux buns filled with Comté, still warm, unapologetically rich. They disappeared with suspicious speed. Cured sea trout followed, delicate and clean, propped up on shards of crisp toast, with fermented kohlrabi bringing a pickled tartness, and fresh horseradish lifting the whole thing. Do you like it? Nodding. Oui Madame. This is going well.
The croquettes arrive in threes, which is either generous or mischievous, depending on your perspective. On our visit, the croquette of the day was saffron and chorizo; the crisp shells gave way to something deeply savoury, with a saffron sauce. The final croquette became a minor diplomatic incident. There was a pause and a brief discussion. A concession was made. Oui Madame. If they can’t capitulate over the last croquette, why are you even dating them?
Scallops were handled with care and were perfectly succulent. The parsnip purée leans sweet, topped with crisp parsnip for contrast, and bright, popping beads of roe that make everything feel slightly celebratory. Beneath it all, a dashi with droplets of lovage oil. If anyone offers a spoon… Well, I think you know the answer by now…
At some point, the carafe was emptied. This felt less like a problem and more like a natural progression. Ellen suggested red. A Chianti, Pieve di Campoli 2024, with enough body and spice to carry the large plate. It was not on the list, but the wine list is curated by the owner to match the seasonally changing menu, so there will always be new, unusual delights to discover.
After the small dishes, we chose to share a large plate and a side. It was a good choice, as the portion was generous; the short rib had clearly been given time and respect. It rested on a cauliflower purée sharpened with blue cheese, with barley for texture and a scattering of sage crumb. It is, if one were inclined to be sentimental about these things, the culinary equivalent of being reassured that everything is under control. We chose the écrasé potato as a side, very garlicky, bright with gremolata, and a good size since there was already a fair bit of barley on the plate.
At this point, a sensible person might draw the evening to a close. There was, briefly, the possibility of restraint. It passed. Oui Madame.
We turned on the charm and asked if we could share a cheese, then share a dessert. The old BBB switcheroo. Oui Madame. Bien sûr. With some crackers, we were served a 30-month-aged Comté, a Bleu de Basque, and a Delice de Bourgogne, all doing exactly what they should, with a chutney that ties them together. There are no passengers on this cheese plate.
A white chocolate and pistachio délice was the final course, denser than expected but all the better for it, with blueberries and a crumble that brought texture. It is the sort of dessert that subtly ticks all the boxes and makes sure you leave with a smile.
By this point, the room had settled into itself. Candles had burned lower. Conversations had dropped a register. Leaving felt like something that could be postponed indefinitely. The clock, which runs unintentionally slow by about 20 minutes, seems to justify lingering.
What Oui Madame understands, and what it does very well, is that a good evening is rarely about a single decision. It is about a series of small agreements, each one leading quietly into the next. Another glass. Another plate. Another hour. And when it comes, as it inevitably does, to the question of whether you might do this again, the answer is already there, waiting.
Oui Madame.
Oui Madame
290 St Paul’s Road
London
N1 2LH
United Kingdom
