The Travel Critic

Scott’s in Richmond is the sort of restaurant that makes you want to sit up a little straighter the moment you walk in, as if the building itself has opinions about posture. Oysters, opulence, and old-school service, really, what’s not to love? It is a modern throwback, which is a perfect contradiction and all the better for it.

Perched smugly on the waterside, Scott’s has all the reassuring hallmarks of a restaurant that feels as though it’s been there for a hundred years, even if it hasn’t. You half-expect a carriage to pull up outside, or a Duke to sweep in late and apologise profusely. You could absolutely see it slipping into a Bridgerton episode without a single prop needing to be changed. And yet, crucially, it carries all the modern benefits: comfort, polish, and food that doesn’t taste like it was designed in 1897.

What it very much isn’t is one of those branded hospitality concepts bought by an investment group who then decide, in a fit of spreadsheet-fuelled enthusiasm, to roll out fifty identical versions across the country. The sort where once there was one in Knightsbridge and now there’s another blinking into existence next to a Nando’s in a shopping centre in Kettering. No. Scott’s has resisted that fate entirely. It feels authentic, singular, and special. three words rarely found together in modern dining.

This is exactly the sort of place you want for a proper occasion. Our visit doubled down on that: a birthday, dear friends, long conversations, and the happy sense that nowhere else would quite do. Finding venues like this is hard work these days. Sometimes you don’t want edgy, ironic, or “reimagined”. Sometimes you just want something undeniably special. Scott’s is precisely that.

The service is spot on: friendly without being chummy, attentive without hovering, and perfectly in tune with the grand surroundings. You feel looked after, not managed. The food is exceptional – fresh, confident, and exciting in that quietly assured way that comes from knowing exactly what you are and not needing to shout about it.

Thank goodness places like this still exist. Long may they continue, oysters gleaming, napkins crisp, and Kettering blissfully Scott’s-free.