<a target="_blank" href="https://www.rowon5london.com/">Row on 5</a>

5 Savile Row

London W1S 3PB

United Kingdom

BY NEAL
MARTIN | MAY 29, 2026

The Food:

Canapés:
“Cheese &amp; onion,” Louët-Feisser oyster, Isle of Barra cockles, Cornish
bluefin tuna, Inverness langoustine 

Orkney
scallop

Singapore
native lobster

Turbot
“au poivre”

Dorset
Sika deer

Colston
Basset Stilton

Black
truffle

Shizuoka
crown melon

Tea
&amp; cake

Oswaldo
71%

Petits
Fours

The Wines:

<table><tbody><tr><td>2024 António
Maçanita Verdelho o Original&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td>92</td></tr><tr><td>2021 Momento
Tinta Barocca</td><td>90</td></tr><tr><td>2016 Philippe
Pacalet Moulin-à-Vent</td><td>92</td></tr></tbody></table>

Freshly
minted two stars, gunning for a third. A wunderkind chef. Star-studded wine
list. Award-winning sommelier. If ever a new restaurant was earmarked for the
Vinous Table treatment, it is Row On 5. It ticks a lot of boxes. It also screws
up a major one. <img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779915404139-row+5+exterior+sign_VT.jpg">The exterior sign on Savile Row.

Row On
5 is the jewel in restaurateur Jason Atherton's crown. No points for guessing
that the name is inspired by the address, though "row" is, in fact, a
tailoring acronym for "refinement of work." That ethos underlies chef
Spencer Metzger's cuisine. The Roux Scholar worked for a year at <a target="_blank" href="https://vinous.com/articles/vinous-table-l-enclume-cartmel-uk-mar-2026">L'Enclume</a>
before establishing his name at The Ritz in 2021. That same year, he entered
the ever-popular BBC competition “Great British Menu,” where Metzger was
crowned Champion of Champions. Having upped sticks to Dubai, where he won two
stars within six months, he returned to captain Row On 5 when it opened in
November 2024.<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779915268815-row+5+basement_Vinous.jpg">The basement reception area.

A
Mayfair location is nothing new for a destination restaurant with big
ambitions, but Savile Row is known for its tailored suits, not petits fours. Inner
seams were measured here for many years before its gastronomic reincarnation. Now,
they measure out ingredients. A discreet basement entrance belies the capacious
two-floored space. Ring the doorbell, hand over your coats and…yes…I would like
them dry-cleaned please. No joke—they actually do dry-clean coats as an homage to
Savile Row’s past. Y you are escorted down to a buzzy reception area—a chic
interior dressed for chic clientele, a bijou designer fireplace lending a touch
of cosiness. To the right stands a marble island where a small armada of
smartly dressed wait staff puts the final touches on amuse-bouches.

It
looks like a million bucks. Must have cost more.<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779915283880-row+5+cellar_Vinous.jpg">One of the wine cellars.

Before we
sit down, Executive Sommelier Roxane Dupuy, fresh from winning this year's
prestigious Michelin Sommelier Award, invites me to tour the cellars. Yes,
plural. With a 2,400-strong wine list, there is a separate walk-in Champagne
cellar plus a standalone glass cabinet housing dismembered silver hands, each
brandishing a bottle of DRC. I was reliably informed that these hands are
moulded from Jason Atherton's own, which I find just a tad creepy. We take our
seats and set about the 15-course tasting menu at a cool £250 per head, similar
to The Ledbury or Restaurant Gordon Ramsay—in other words, reassuringly
expensive. Bet you it will cost more this time next year.<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779910993571-row+5+onion_VT.jpg">"Cheese &amp; onion.”

Like
many chefs these days, Metzger's dishes have a strong Japanese influence. Like
at L'Enclume and many others at this rarefied level, there is only a single
meat course. As such, you leave feeling “nicely full” rather than stuffed. 

<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779910684516-row+5+oyster_VT.JPG">

Louët-Feisser oyster.Five canapés are served in the downstairs holding area.
"Cheese &amp; onion" is a rich way to begin: three onion crisps
sandwiching Lincolnshire cheese and a Roscoff onion jam of remarkable
sweetness. Delicious, though I personally might have placed it later in the
meal. The first highlight is the Louët-Feisser oyster, fished off Carlingford
on the east coast of Ireland. A small map presented at the table pinpoints the
exact location, a bit of Heston Blumenthal-style theatre that is as playful as
it is informative. Served with Osteria caviar from supplier N25, atop a
miniature macaron with a thin sheet of Japanese nori in between, the oyster
arrives shaped into a sphere that seems to pop in the mouth, the caviar and
tartlet delivering a revivifying saltiness that conjures windswept coastlines.
Stunning.

<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779910715748-row+5+cockle_VT.JPG">Isle
of Barra cockles.The cockles came from Isle of Barra and had
been cooked in sake, served with reduced grapefruit juice and white Penja
pepper. The cockles were a bit “wee,” i.e. too small. Its fleetingness kind of
denuded the dish of flavour. Can I have that large please? <img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779915305584-row+5+tuna_Vinous.jpg">Cornish bluefin tuna.&nbsp;The
Cornish bluefin tuna was the second outstanding canapé. The tuna had been dried
for nine or ten days and was served with ponzu cream and English wasabi in a
seaweed tartlet. My bar is set high given the tuna I ate in Japan, and this
really delivered—the flavour and texture were just heavenly. Tuna is all about
sourcing the best. This was outstanding.

Lastly,
the Inverness langoustine was served “in two parts,” the first downstairs and
the second upstairs. The first langoustine came from the breast rather than the
claws and was cooked in a shell stock with chawanmushi (Japanese custard) and
shiso leaf. Very tasty, though perhaps not as memorable as the aforementioned
oyster or tuna.

Canapés
over, we are invited upstairs. We take the lift; our waiter takes the stairs
and greets us at the top. With only 32 covers, there is plenty of space between
tables, but I had pre-booked a counter seat. That was a great decision. Unless
you plan to whisper sweet nothings into your lover's ear, bag a counter seat.
The kitchen is completely open with no barrier whatsoever, allowing counter
diners to eavesdrop on Metzger's intermittent exchanges with his brigade and
observe him close-up as he surgically puts the finishing touches on each
course. Behind him, his young team man their stations and occasionally emerge
to present dishes. Waiting at my seat is a wax-sealed envelope with my name
artfully handwritten on the front. A nice personal touch. Inside I found that
evening's menu and quickly graffitied it with notes.

The
music is a notch too loud for my liking. Background music is fine, but
customers are not paying a small fortune to listen to someone's playlist. If
music is to form a part of the experience, it must be curated. There is an art
to the playlist, one that discreetly shapes a room's ambiance. Frankly, the
choices are mundane. I love Oasis and the Stones, but Liam and Mick's vocals
are intrusive and occasionally distracting.

Back to
the menu. I am a bit surprised to discover that the five canapés actually formed
the first of the 15 courses. We are already a third of the way through. Maybe I
am quibbling, but this should be made clearer, especially as other restaurants
at this level separate the amuse-bouches from the main event. 

<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779911542920-row+5+langoustine+sabayon_VT.JPG">Inverness langoustine.The second langoustine dish is one of the prettiest dishes I
have set eyes upon. It is sliced and glazed, served with a salted duck egg
sabayon, finger lime zest, shiso leaf and an Amela tomato jelly from Shizuoka.
This second iteration is absolutely sublime, a kaleidoscope of texture and
flavours, that sabayon to die for.<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779910850721-row+5+scallop_VT.JPG">Orkney scallop.Hot
on its heels comes another breathtaking dish. The XL Orkney scallop is sliced
into ribbons. We eat it like noodles with chopsticks engraved with our names,
souvenirs to take home and a lovely personal touch. Cooked at 39°C and served
with kanzuri chilli paste, shiso vinegar and myoga (Japanese ginger) flower, it
has exquisite balance: subtle flavours discreetly gain intensity in the mouth,
yet it is paradoxically imbued with lightness.

<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779910790134-row+5+lobster_VT.JPG">Singapore native lobster.

The
Singapore native lobster is inspired by chilli crab, but the lobster tails are
Cornish. It comes with a chilli lobster sauce and white miso foam. The lobster
itself has just the right amount of chewiness and the foam proves a neat
counterfoil.&nbsp;

The
turbot "au poivre," the quotation
marks signalling that it uses caviar rather than pepper, came with bonito
flakes, lovage oil and hakurei (Japanese turnip), the fish sourced from Flying
Fish and aged for four or five days. It was as good as you will find anywhere,
the caviar lending a salinity that lifted all the ingredients, the kohlrabi
supplying the requisite bitter edge. Alongside, Shokupan bread (Japanese milk
bread) with a fermented honey butter provides the perfect doughy texture for
mopping up the sauce.

<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779910867896-row+5+sika+deer_VT.JPG">Dorset Sika deer.

The sole
meat course is a Dorset-bred Sika deer with venison stock, blackcurrant, smoked
bone marrow and sansho—pink, tender and beautifully cooked. I could quibble
that the sauce is fractionally too rich, threatening to overshadow the
wonderful meat, but overall this is a delight. Flanking it is an oxtail taro
puff that has a lip-licking barbecue-like quality.<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779910923177-row+5+colston+bassett_VT.JPG">Colston Basset Stilton.There is no cheeseboard at Row On 5, not that one is
mandatory. Instead, an oat tartlet of Colston Bassett Stilton, handmade and
aged three years by cheesemaker Billy Kevan in Nottinghamshire, is topped with
white chocolate, apple cider gel and tiny white flowers. A warming melted
quality marries perfectly with the pastry. The black truffle from Umbria comes with
miso cream, toasted Marcona almonds and a barley mousse. Fabulous, though the
almond flavours threaten to steal the limelight.

<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779910888326-row+5+melon_VT.JPG">Shizuoka crown melon.The Shizuoka Crown Melon is renowned the world over,
commanding extraordinary prices in Japan and giving the false impression of an
expensive country when it is quite the opposite. Grown on a one-tree, one-fruit
basis in greenhouses to achieve a 14% sugar content, this delicacy is specially
imported to the restaurant and served kakigori-style on ice shavings with
salted Jersey milk. It is a dish of simplicity and restraint, though to be
frank, I am not a passionate fan of melon and unlike others dishes, this did
not quite move me. The dinner finishes back downstairs for "tea and
cake": Earl Grey and bergamot madeleines, the Oswaldo 71%—a tartlet of
chocolate with astonishingly intense flavours—and a miniature stand of petits
fours.

Now,
the wines. Dupuy hands me the list; she must have extraordinarily strong
arms because it is four inches thick. This is a wine list with intent. Just
about every icon is accounted for: Romanée-Conti, Leroy, Pétrus, Cuvée
Cathelin, Dagueneau’s Astéroïd. Every country, not merely the obvious but
esoterica from Syria, China and the Azores. Ancient vintages abound: Yquem
1927, Haut-Brion 1928, to name but two—Dupuy tells me all are sourced
directly from producers. A large selection is available by the glass, not just
entry-level labels but, for a commensurate supplement, Yquem and Pétrus. The Champagne
selection alone takes several hours to leaf through. There are sections devoted
to sake and orange wines, the latter divided into light and intense. (I choose
neither.) There are mini-verticals of Prieuré-Roch, Château-Chalon and
Hartmann's La Chapelle, and a wine from Luxembourg, a nod to Dupuy's
birthplace. It is an astonishing list not just in size, but by its sheer scope.

What’s
the catch? 

The
mark-ups are horrendous. Even by London's standards, these are among the most
egregious I have encountered. Some, I calculated, are ten times their release
price. An oenophile with a working knowledge of ex-cellar prices will find the
list both temptation and punishment, like waving a bag of sweets in front of a
sweet-toothed child and demanding their pocket money. For life. Unlike
L'Enclume, Row On 5 is extremely resistant to corkage. I understand the
reasoning, given the effort they put into sourcing and curating the list. Who
am I to dictate how they run their business? And yet I am made to feel like
easy prey, held hostage by my vinous passion, gouged for every hard-earned
pound, supplementing the more abstemious diners around me. Other restaurants
operate a discretionary corkage policy that appeases both sides: high mark-ups
for those with deep pockets, relief for the minority of genuine oenophiles. At
least the list's depth and breadth mean that those unwilling to spend the GDP
of a small equatorial nation on fermented grape juice will find gems among the
less expensive bottles. My white and red selections were just above three
figures and delivered in the only place that counts.

<img alt="" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/images.vinous.com/uploads%2F1779911022179-row+5+azores_VT.JPG">For the
white, we venture to the mid-Atlantic island of the Azores. I believe this is
the island's first review on Vinous, and hopefully not the last. It was so good
I almost ordered a second bottle. The 2024 Verdelho o Original comes
from the island of Pico, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and was made by António
Maçanita, co-founder of the Azores Wine Company. Grown on volcanic soils
and naturally influenced by the ocean, the variety seems to thrive here. One
sniff and your mind fills with visions of a roiling sea, crushed stone and sea
spray, so beautifully defined and focused is the nose. The palate continues that
theme, crisp on the entry with a pleasing cut of acidity. It is bright, lively
and unapologetically saline with deft touches of Anjou pear and clementine on
the finish. Wonderful.For the
red, I return to the Cape: the 2021 Tinta Barocca from Momento,
which Dupuy decanted on my advice. Revisiting my earlier note, I think I was a
touch mean to talented winemaker Marelise Niemann. The aromatics are more
coalescent now, the 15% whole bunch imparting a lovely underlying pepperiness
to the fleshy raspberry and blackcurrant fruit, which opens to reveal Provençal
herbs with aeration. The palate is considerably more harmonious as well, the
bitterness I found a couple of years ago now gone, leaving a finish that is
velvety and sensual. Seek this out.

The
gentleman next to us, with whom we struck up a conversation, suggests ordering
a couple more wines by the glass. Fresh off my trip to Beaujolais, I order a 2016
Moulin-à-Vent from Philippe Pacalet that shows barely any sign of
age. Bright red cherry and cassis leap from the glass, as though from the latest
vintage. The palate delivers the weight and complexity you expect from this cru.
Clean and fresh with pliant tannins on the finish, it is precisely what makes
this region so compelling right now and disprovesthe theory that Beaujolais
cannot age.

Row On
5's ambitions were clear from day one: two stars minimum, and with that
achieved, how long before a third? The interior and ambiance cannot be faulted.
Metzger is a preternaturally talented chef, and Row On 5 showcases his artistry
and execution with a money-is-no-object approach to sourcing. The wine list, which
you can peruse at leisure on their website, is brilliant, right down to the
accompanying artwork and poems. In Dupuy, they have a sommelier of rare
knowledge and approachability, a major talent who fully deserves her accolades.
But the mark-ups stick in my craw. Though Row On 5 is not the only offender, as
a wine lover, their pricing stops me from venturing toward more interesting
selections and makes me feel, frankly, unworthy of being here. Wine should not
exist solely as a means of keeping a restaurant afloat. I could countenance
that if corkage were an option, but that is not my decision to make.

I
collect my coat. Freshly dry-cleaned. My personalised chopsticks are safely in
my bag. I still cannot shake the image of dismembered silver hands clutching
bottles of DRC. Nor certain of the incredible dishes. Nor the wine prices.© 2026, Vinous. No portion of this article may be copied, shared or redistributed without prior consent from Vinous. Doing so is not only a violation of our copyright but also threatens the survival of independent wine criticism.

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