Gillray’s Steakhouse & Bar occupies one of London's most privileged addresses, tucked into the curve of County Hall with Westminster neatly framed beyond the Thames. The dining room mirrors the building's sweeping architecture: high ceilings, warm wood panelling and polished marble. It’s an elegant room, but not a showy one. A sensible move, really; there’s no need to compete with architecture and views like this.
Looking towards Parliament, cocktails feel like a smart bet. The Street Crier, the colour of lemon sherbet, offers a playful take on a Midori Sour, subbing lime for orange and a thick, satisfying drift of velvety foam. To match, we kick off with tender garlic-fried squid served with a rich squid ink mayo for dipping, along with wild mushroom flatbread. The latter might not sound like much, but the kitchen has it nailed: warm, fluffy flatbread, creamy London-made bocconcini, peppery rocket, sweet caramelised mushrooms, and a zingy aged balsamic. Simple, but addictive.
Steak, though, is the clear focus. First, our server emerges with a chest of gleaming steak knives. Weapon selected (a Laguiole blade with its signature bee insignia), a massive T-bone lands, generously marbled, beautifully rested and cooked to a precise medium rare. Like all steaks here, it comes from heritage breeds courtesy of Thatcham’s family butcher in Berkshire, then dry-aged in a Himalayan salt chamber to amp up the deep, savoury complexity.
Dunked into aromatic green peppercorn and brandy sauce, matched with triple-cooked chips (craggy-edged, generously showered in Parmesan and preserved black truffle), and paired with a velvety glass of Mendoza malbec, it’s everything you need. At £79 for two to share, this might feel like a serious purchase, but few central London steakhouses deliver quality at this level.
Elsewhere, sticky toffee pudding marks a fitting conclusion. Sponge studded with finely chopped dates remains light and fluffy, ladled with ample butterscotch sauce and topped with a dense, creamy helping of Cornish clotted cream ice cream.
Gillray’s doesn’t do reinvention for the sake of it. With precise cooking, brilliant sourcing, and Big Ben across the shimmering water, it hardly needs to. The substance matches the spectacle - not something we say about every South Bank restaurant.