From the moment you walk into Punk Royale London, there is a feeling of something special. Actually, it started when I called them weeks before and Archie picked up the phone. It was just such a real conversation. No pretences. Made me smile. Punk Royale began in Stockholm in 2015 with a simple idea: push fine dining into a place where elegance and absurdity collide. Does it work?
You walk in, phones put away in a discreet little box, and suddenly fine dining becomes something entirely different. The lights move. The sound swells. The welcome as you walk in sets the tone immediately. Punk Royale London brings Scandinavian roots and London attitude together, turning dinner into a moment you cannot scroll past or half-watch. You must be present. The restaurant carries the same Scandi energy that turned a 14-seat backroom into a destination, but here in Mayfair, the idea grows sharper, louder and more immersive.
The food at Punk Royale
This is why we come right? The food is exceptional. Go in with an open mind. The ingredients are all approachable, and there is something to please everyone. I am not a fan of raw fish or raw meat, and there wasn’t much of that on the night. However, there was a really cool beetroot tartare with maybe ten or more little dips and accoutrements, including a moreish burger sauce. Superb.
The food at Punk Royale London follows an omakase spirit through a Nordic lens, where the kitchen decides everything. A fixed tasting menu using some lush ingredients. Around 20 stages. These aren’t all “courses.” Sometimes they are small canapes and other bits and pieces.
The evening starts with a trip to the pass. For a MASSIVE bump of caviar and a shot of ice-cold vodka. We were lucky enough to meet Punk Royale chef and co-founder Joakim Almqvist, who was in the kitchen beavering away with a small team. Front of house, Archie and the small team kept the energy up for every moment.
One moment, you are handed a whisper-light bite layered with bright acidity, the next, you are sipping a soup that looks like a miniature pint of Guinness. You are then cracking into an Egg Royale covered in a glossy spoonful of caviar drifting in warm chicken wing jus. Smoke rolls across the table without warning. A lobster mouthful appears, rich and steaming. A spoon of truffle dissolves before you can ask what just happened.
Luxury ingredients come at pace. Delicacy one second. Blunt force the next. You never quite know what is coming, and that unpredictability becomes part of the pleasure. It is fine dining stripped of formality. Don’t believe everything you read, too – there is plenty of cutlery, and you don’t just get served food without explanation. You just need to listen.
The sips
The drinks pairing also shapes the experience. Alcoholic or non-alcoholic, the goal is the same: drinks that complement the pace, enhance the flavours, and keep the room engaged. This isn’t a classic wine flight and doesn’t pretend to be. It is designed to follow the shift of lights, the rhythm of the menu, and the flow of the evening. In London, as in Stockholm, the beverage pairing is a precise craft, guiding the night as much as the kitchen does.
And the drinks themselves change constantly. One season, you might be handed a Spicy Mule: vodka, chilli, lime, ginger beer; sharp, fast, alive. Another night it could be Adam’s Apple, rum and apple with a hit of ginger beer, a cooler, sweeter jolt. The cocktails rotate, evolve, disappear, reappear. Nothing is fixed. Everything moves. That unpredictability becomes part of the fun, the theatre, the pulse.
The whole experience is actually great value at £220 considering the number of courses, quality of food and the drinks pairings, which are also included. Before the drinks pairings start, I am offered a Negroni or a Dirty Martini. The Dirty Martini arrives on the rocks with a spoon and some really brilliantly cold olives adorning the cocktail. As a Martini snob, this was unusual. BUT IT WORKED.
Immersiveness but with intent
This is NOT forced fun. Forced fun is cringy. The immersive atmosphere at Punk Royale is one built with a huge sense of kindness, openness and creating memories. An 18th-century building in the centre of Mayfair becomes a stage for a dinner that never behaves. Lights that shift. Sound that builds and breaks. Smoke that drifts in at unexpected moments. It feels theatrical, but not in a polished way. It is playful.
The team are the pulse of Punk Royale London. They deliver dishes with personality, humour and a sense of timing that feels choreographed without losing warmth. They guide you through the mayhem at the same time as explaining it. They make the room feel mischievous, daring and strangely welcoming. Their presence shapes everything, from how the courses land to how the night unfolds. It is their energy that makes the experience feel strangely intimate despite the spectacle around it.
I have heard a lot of discussion about the use of phones here. The whole idea is to be present. To enjoy. If you want to check your phone away from the table, that’s fine. Being away from your phone is just something to keep you in the moment. And it really does.
A night to remember
Their website says, “What matters is what happens when you sit down, not knowing what’s coming. And when you get up again, the night still ringing in your ears, you just know: I’m doing this again.” We get this. BEFORE we left, we only went and booked a table for New Year’s Eve! There is nowhere else we would rather be.
Punk Royale London is uncompromising and full of intent. It is an experience that becomes a story, sometimes whispered, sometimes shouted, never forgotten. This is where fine dining loosens its collar. One where luxury ingredients meet unruly delivery. Moreish. Delicious. Loud. Precise. Unfiltered. Exactly as fine dining should be.
For more information, visit Punk Royale London.
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Photos courtesy of Punk Royale London.