You have to drive through a residential gatehouse in St John’s Wood to find it. It feels illegal, or at least like you're trespassing on someone’s very expensive private driveway. There is no neon sign. No trendy industrial lighting. Just a nondescript 1930s apartment block called Prince Albert Court that looks like the setting for a Poirot mystery. But once you step inside Oslo Court restaurant London, the 21st century basically stops existing.
It is pink.
Not a subtle, modern "millennial pink," but a full-throttle, unapologetic salmon-and-carnation explosion. The tablecloths are pink. The napkins are folded into intricate peaks. Even the light seems filtered through a rosy, retro lens. It’s glorious. While the rest of the London food scene is busy obsessing over small plates and "deconstructed" snacks served on pieces of slate, Oslo Court is busy serving massive portions of Veal Oscar and Melba toast.
People call it a time capsule. Honestly, that’s an understatement. It’s a stubborn, delicious refusal to change.
The Neilson Family and the Art of the Warm Welcome
Most restaurants in 2026 are run by hospitality groups with spreadsheets and "brand identities." Oslo Court is run by the Neilsons.
The patriarch, Tony Neilson, has been the heartbeat of the place for decades. You’ll usually see him at the door or weaving through the tightly packed tables. There’s a level of recognition here that you just don't get at the latest Soho hotspot. If you’ve been twice, you’re basically family. If you’ve been ten times, they probably know your dental records.
It’s a family affair through and through. His son, Jamie, is often there too, maintaining that specific brand of old-school service where the waiters wear formal waistcoats and actually seem to enjoy their jobs. This isn't the "cool" service where a waiter sits at your table to take your order. This is silver service. It’s professional. It’s precise. It’s kind of heartwarming.
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The crowd is… eclectic. On any given Tuesday, you’ll see wealthy St John’s Wood locals who have been eating here since the 70s, younger couples who have discovered the kitsch factor on TikTok, and serious food critics like Jay Rayner, who has famously championed the place for years. It’s one of the few places in London where a 90-year-old’s birthday party can happen right next to a table of foodies in their 20s, and nobody feels out of place.
Forget Small Plates: What to Actually Eat at Oslo Court Restaurant London
If you are on a diet, stay away. If you don't like cream, stay away.
The menu at Oslo Court restaurant London is a literal manifesto of French-British classicism. We’re talking about the kind of food that would make a modern nutritionist faint.
Let's talk about the starters. You have the classic Avocado Crab—not a smashed avocado on sourdough, but a generous, ripe avocado pear overflowing with fresh crab meat and Marie Rose sauce. It’s simple. It’s perfect. Then there’s the Snail Burgundy. They don't mess around with the garlic butter here; it’s pungent, rich, and demands to be mopped up with the basket of warm bread that appears instantly on your table.
But the main courses are where things get serious.
- Veal Oscar: A massive escalope of veal topped with crab meat, asparagus, and a thick, velvety Hollandaise. It’s a decadent mountain of protein.
- Steak Diane: Flambéed at the table if you're lucky, swimming in a sauce of mushrooms, shallots, and brandy.
- Duck à l’Orange: Crispy skin, tender meat, and a sauce that strikes that exact balance between sweet and savory that most modern chefs have forgotten how to execute.
The portions are huge. Honestly, they’re slightly terrifying. But the real star of the show—the thing people actually whisper about in the hallways—is the dessert trolley.
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The Legend of the Dessert Trolley
In most restaurants, you get a small menu with three options: a tart, a chocolate something, and a selection of sorbets. At Oslo Court, they wheel out a multi-tiered chariot of sin.
Neil, the legendary "Dessert Man," is a local celebrity in his own right. He’s been presiding over this trolley for years with a level of enthusiasm that is frankly infectious. He doesn’t just show you the cakes; he narrates them. He’ll point to a strawberry tart and tell you it’s the best one he’s seen all week. He’ll nudge you toward the chocolate profiteroles, which are the size of tennis balls and smothered in a chocolate sauce so thick it has its own gravity.
The best part? You don't just have to pick one. If you look indecisive, Neil will often suggest a "little bit of everything." Before you know it, you have a plate piled high with cheesecake, lemon meringue pie, and a rogue scoop of ice cream. It is pure, unadulterated joy. There is no "refined sugar-free" option here. It’s all butter, sugar, and cream.
Why Does a Place Like This Still Exist?
London’s restaurant industry is notoriously brutal. Rents are sky-high, trends change every six months, and the "next big thing" usually becomes the "last year's thing" before the paint is dry. So how does a pink room in the basement of a block of flats keep its tables full?
It's the consistency.
When you go to Oslo Court, you know exactly what you’re getting. You know the butter will be shaped into shells. You know the vegetables will be served in side dishes to share. You know the service will be impeccable. In a world that feels increasingly chaotic and digital, there is something deeply soothing about a place that refuses to pivot.
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There’s also the value. While the prices aren't "cheap"—it’s a fine dining establishment in one of London’s wealthiest postcodes—the sheer volume of food and the quality of the ingredients make it feel like a bargain compared to the tiny, overpriced portions found in Mayfair. You leave feeling fed. Not just physically, but emotionally.
Finding Your Way There (The Logistics)
If you're planning a visit, don't just show up. Oslo Court restaurant London is often booked out weeks in advance, especially for Sunday lunch.
- The Location: It’s inside Prince Albert Court, Charlbert Street. When you see the porter’s desk, you’re in the right place. Just follow the smell of garlic butter down the stairs.
- The Dress Code: It’s not "strictly" formal, but you’ll feel weird in a tracksuit. Most people dress up. It’s a celebratory place. Wear something with an elasticated waistband if you plan on tackling the dessert trolley.
- The Vibe: It’s loud. The tables are close together. You will hear the life story of the people sitting next to you. Embrace it. It’s part of the charm.
- The Cost: Expect a set price for two or three courses. It’s straightforward. No hidden "concept" fees.
The Reality of the "Pink Palace"
Is it for everyone? Probably not. If you want cutting-edge culinary techniques or a minimalist aesthetic, you will hate it. If you want a quiet, romantic corner where no one bothers you, the bustling service might be a bit much.
But if you want to remember why people started going to restaurants in the first place—for the theatre, the hospitality, and the sheer indulgence of a well-cooked meal—then this place is a sanctuary. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the "old way" of doing things was actually the right way.
There is a specific kind of magic in seeing a waiter de-bone a Dover sole at your table with the surgical precision of a veteran. There is a specific kind of comfort in being called "sir" or "madam" without it feeling ironic.
Actionable Steps for Your Visit
To get the most out of your experience at Oslo Court, you need a strategy. This isn't a "light lunch" spot.
- Book the "Late" Lunch: If you go for Sunday lunch, try for a slightly later slot. The atmosphere peaks when the room is full and the dessert trolley is in full swing.
- Order the Specials: The printed menu is vast, but the daily specials are often where the kitchen really shines. If they have the lobster, get the lobster.
- Save Room: This is the most important rule. Eat a light breakfast. Skip the mid-afternoon snack. You need every square inch of stomach capacity for that final course.
- Talk to the Staff: Ask Tony or Jamie about the history of the place. They have stories that go back decades, involving everyone from Hollywood stars to local legends.
Ultimately, Oslo Court isn't just a restaurant. It’s a living museum of a lost era of London dining. It’s a place where the 1970s never ended, and honestly, looking at the state of the world today, that’s not such a bad thing. Go for the veal, stay for the pink napkins, and whatever you do, do not say no to the "little bit of everything" on the dessert plate.