Hot Dogs by Three Darlings, London: ‘Things that no one needs’ – restaurant review
Hot Dogs by Three Darlings, Dining Hall, Harrods, 87-135 Brompton Road, London SW1X 7XL (0207 225 6800). Hot dogs £19-£22, desserts £12, wines from £50
It is fitting that the Harrods Dining Hall, home to Hot Dogs by Three Darlings, which I visited before the recent re-emergence of the shocking allegations against its previous owner, is reached via the store’s luxury accessories department. Because, like the concessions belonging to Givenchy and Loro Piana standing sentry either side of the doorway, the counter sells things that absolutely no one needs. There, sadly, the similarity must end. For while we might blanch at the price of a Givenchy handbag, we can at least admire the craftwork required to produce one. Nobody in possession of their right wits could admire the work that has gone into these dainty “gourmet” hot dogs, costing up to £22 a pop. Few should want them.
The problem begins with the premise. Just as terms like “ethical banking” and “civilised Martini hour” suggest someone is doing it all wrong, the idea of the fancy hot dog misses the point. If you have ever eaten a classic hot dog, say off a Manhattan street cart, you will understand the principles. It shouldn’t feel like an act of self-care. It should be an indulgence. And it most definitely is not just some gnarly sausage in a bun. It is a smoked wiener or frankfurter. The casing should have a light snap beneath the teeth that immediately releases a burst of hot, savoury juices. According to the hot dog maven Owen Barratt, formerly of the much-missed Monty’s Deli, the meat needs to be emulsified to a dense smoothness. It should have heft.
It can be beef or pork, but the bun should be soft and it should be sweet against the salty, smokiness of the dog. These things are key. If they are not in place, any glitzy toppings become irrelevant. It’s like pointing out that a hardened criminal goes to church on Sundays. Who cares? If you offer me a hot dog and it isn’t these things, it is all of my Christmases, cancelled. In the ornately tiled, dimly lit Harrods Dining Hall, the otherwise esteemed chef Jason Atherton has well and truly cancelled my Christmas.
There are five “hot dogs” on offer, costing between £19 and £22. Have them all for £85. Or then again, don’t. Much is made of the bespoke nature of the grind. The “original”, for example, is “80% free range gilt pork shoulder, 10% Iberico pork, 10% chorizo sausage”. The North African-inspired “Souk dog” is made with various cuts of lamb. Each month, there’s a celebrity-endorsed offering. Currently, it’s the Battersea Banger, courtesy of the model David Gandy, though I doubt he secured those cheekbones by going face-down in anybody’s hot dog concession. There’s a slightly worrying image of a Dalmatian next to the menu listing. It turns out that £2 from the £22 price tag goes to Battersea Dogs & Cats Home, so there’s that. It’s actually made with beef. All of these have a weird, rough, grainy and very dry texture. The casing is wrinkled and hangs off them like an oversized old sock. Perhaps they’ve failed to emulsify the meat. Or they did, but then overheated the dogs in the hot water baths in which they are held in front of us, so the filling has split, before finishing them in some underpowered device beneath the counter. The buns are dense and claggy and undersweetened.
All this means the artful scribbles of mayo and ketchup, the dollops of caramelised onions and scrapings of cheese become an irrelevance. There is a smear of a good baba ganoush under the souk dog and you do get a hit of truffle with Gandy’s offering. But when the key ingredient is so poor, who cares? The online menu promised chips, but Harrods won’t let them have a deep fat fryer and apparently an air fryer didn’t work. So instead, there are tater tots for £7.50, which do have the authentic “mum’s been to Iceland” crunch. Mac and cheese is underseasoned. Let’s hear it then for the sweet salty spiced corn ribs, the best thing on offer here.
Atherton is a gifted chef. I raved about his cooking at a restaurant called L’Anis in my first year in this job. We featured him as a rising star back in 2002. But since then, he seems to have displayed an odd blind spot with detail. Pull up a stool at the circular counter, surrounded by the clatter on one side from Tom Kerridge’s fish and chip operation and The Grill on the other. You’ll find a moist towel waiting for you. It’s fridge cold. But don’t worry. The sparkling water will be warm. (“Shall I bring you some ice?” the server says, as he sees me press my knuckles sadly to the glass. Yes, that would be nice.) The wine list offers two of each colour. The cheapest white is a Picpoul at £50 a bottle. It’s available online for £9.79. That’s a mark-up by a factor of five. Or there’s a Sancerre at £120 a bottle, which you can buy for £25. The Three Darlings menu online offered one bargain: Moët et Chandon champagne at £70 a bottle, as against its retail price of £35. Except when I got there it was £105 a bottle. Since then, they’ve dropped it again to £80 a bottle. Who knows what it will cost if you go.
Online, before my visit, an ice-cream sundae was £9. Now it’s £12. Well, of course it is. It’s advertised as a “S’more” sundae. A S’more is a big fat square of marshmallow toasted until brown and bubbling, then squidged between graham crackers with a slab of chocolate. We watch as the server gets out a meagre handful of tiny marshmallows like mini dental swabs, sparks up a blow torch for a few seconds until most are barely warm, then chucks them into a coupe with scoops of ice-cream, a mini flake and one of those ice-cream van fan wafers. It is the words “can’t be bothered” fashioned out of sugar and cream.
My companion lived for a while in New York. She’s a veteran of Nathan’s hot dogs at Yankee Stadium and of garden bonfire-made S’mores in Brooklyn. And she’s finally had enough of all this. She insists on buying us glasses of overpriced champagne, so we at least get one thing that’s reliable out of the experience. This operation is a spin-off from a bistro Atherton is yet to open in Chelsea, which will be called Three Darlings, in celebration of his daughters. That’s a lovely gesture. It’s certainly lovelier than this clumsy, overpriced venture. Some might ask what I expected of Harrods. It’s a fair point. Perhaps I should have managed my expectations.
News bites
The London Shell Co, famous for its two restaurants run on barges moored in London’s Paddington Basin, has announced it is coming ashore. The Prince Regent, which has served dinner while cruising on the canal since 2016, will continue doing so until 13 October. The Grand Duchess, which had been permanently moored since 2019, ran its last service on 28 September. “Substantial increases in maintenance and overhead costs combined with turbulent trading conditions have made this decision inevitable,” the company said. They will now focus on their fishmonger and seafood bar near Hampstead Heath (londonshellco.com).
Yotam Ottolenghi’s company is to open its first venture overseas, with the launch of a restaurant inside the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Geneva, Switzerland. It will take its lead from their London restaurant Rovi, rather than the well-known delis, and will be “a vibrant Mediterranean dining experience” (ottolenghi.co.uk).
Euan’s Guide, the charity which campaigns for disability access including in hospitality businesses, has opened its latest access survey. It invites wheelchair users, people with other disabilities and their families and carers to report their experience of gaining access to businesses and institutions across the UK. In last year’s survey, 76% of the 6,000 respondents reported finding accessibility information on websites misleading or confusing, while 79% reported a disappointing trip or having to change plans due to poor accessibility. Find out more about the survey and take part here.
Email Jay at jay.rayner@observer.co.uk or follow him on X @jayrayner1
