I have eaten in enough brasseries, both the real ones in Paris and the pale imitations scattered across London, to know when a place is chasing fashion and when it is simply getting on with the job. Brasserie Olivia, which flung its doors open properly on 9 July after a month of soft opening, falls firmly into the latter camp. Tucked into the corner of Sloane Square at 1 Sloane Square in Chelsea, it is the first London venture from La Nouvelle Garde, the French group founded in Paris in 2019 by Charles Perez and Victor Dubillot.
The site itself used to house Côte. Now it has been reborn with dark wood panelling, brass that catches the light just so, mustard-coloured banquettes that look properly inviting, and an open kitchen that puts the theatre where it belongs. Downstairs sits the Venus Bar, all 1970s speakeasy swagger with oak panelling, antique bits and pieces, and a pile of turntables so guests can pick their own soundtrack. It is the sort of detail that feels considered rather than contrived.
What really matters, though, is what comes out of that kitchen. They cook everything in-house from seasonal ingredients sourced largely from these islands. Bread arrives from The Dusty Knuckle, coffee from Volcano Coffee Works, beer from Harbour Brewing Company down in Cornwall. The menu speaks in the clear, confident voice of classic French brasserie cooking: wood-fired dishes, a seafood counter laden with oysters and langoustines, a living lobster tank, homemade croissants at breakfast alongside galette complète, and the inevitable yet eternally welcome lobster and fries.
Everything is made from scratch using carefully selected fresh ingredients. We receive whole carcasses of meat and fillet our fish ourselves. We prepare every vegetable from our favourite market gardeners from start to finish, so that nothing goes to waste.
That is the official line from La Nouvelle Garde, and they sound as if they mean it. Another statement on their site drives the point home: they will never have tomatoes on the plate in the middle of winter. The menu shifts with the seasons because that is how sensible people who respect both ingredients and their own craft behave.
In an age when too many openings chase the next viral ingredient or the most Instagrammable plating, there is something quietly radical about a restaurant that simply wants to fillet its own fish, roast over wood, and serve proper French food without apology. Private enterprise doing what it does best: importing a tradition worth keeping, marrying it to the best of what Britain grows and brews, and letting the punters decide. No subsidies, no fanfare, just dinner.
The place sits open daily from noon until midnight, with lunch served until three and dinner from six until half nine. It joins the clutch of new openings brightening London's dining scene this summer. Not every newcomer needs to reinvent the wheel. Some just need to make sure the wheel is properly buttered, the bread is fresh, and the lobster is worth the journey across the square.
