Jewelbox’ is an overworked critical cliché, but it’s hard to find any other term that aptly describes this dinky little outfit, near Carnaby Street. As you first go in, what strikes you is how absolutely tiny it is. Then you notice that someone has lavished a level of care on the intricate decor and lighting more appropriate to an ambitious establishment many times the size. The tables are small and tightly-packed, and yet the overall effect is very calming and welcoming. (And in fact, it turns out that what you can see is not, in fact, the whole establishment. There’s also a similarly proportioned room above, plus an intimate basement cocktail bar below: each floor having its own decorative style.)
The staff are largely female, and their approach is in keeping with the décor: they may not have a lot of space to work in, but they put in a lot of effort nonetheless. Also similarly, there is a risk of overkill. Let’s hope that, as the establishment settles in, they will assume that the punters are satisfied without having to ask about it quite so much.
And why would the punters not be very happy? Standards on our early-days visit were consistently good to impressive (as you would hope from a ‘Royal Thai’ chef, whatever that is). And prices are notably reasonable too, especially from the set menus, helping make this an ideal destination for a gossipy shopping lunch or an evening tête-Ã -tête. For business, though, you’d have to be on very cosy terms with your counterparty, given the scale and style of the operation.
