Sundays are quickly becoming my favourite day of the week. Perhaps because there’s less pressure to be productive—though that pressure is mostly in my own head. Lately, I’ve been spending them cycling long routes and treating myself to a bite to eat. With less traffic (the 9-5 crowd either prepping for Monday or nursing hangovers), it feels like the city finally exhales, leaving me free to indulge in some not-so-deserved me-time.

This particular Sunday, I caught up—slightly impromptu—with a friend who warned they were on a tight budget until payday. Luckily for me, they’re easily persuaded into frivolity, even when the bank balance says otherwise. Cue midday cocktails, a little wine, and a visit to one of London’s much-whispered-about new restaurants: Noisy Oyster.

Martinis and oysters? Minimalist interiors with chrome accents? It sounded made for me.

Despite its buzz since opening around 3 months ago, I worried about snagging a table without a booking. I needn’t have—the place was empty save for us. Perhaps midday on a Sunday isn’t when most people go for straight vodka and expensive seafood. Still, I’d want to return at peak hours for a truer sense of its atmosphere.

Thankfully, given how much we’d already had to drink, anyone else might not have appreciated our tipsy patronage. I promise we weren’t too bad.

The interiors were something to behold. Tucked down an unassuming cobbled Shoreditch street, the restaurant greets you with bare concrete walls, high ceilings, and industrial piping looping over the bar. Flecks of luminescent lime green break through the greys and blacks—on menus, in uniforms—bringing a slightly alien spark to the space. My favourite detail? The chairs: sleek, silver, and custom-made to look like cold metal but secretly padded. Apparently, according to our server, they cost a small fortune. I desperately wanted to steal one.

Although Noisy Oyster boasts of its ‘diverse selection of seafood’, we kept it light: six oysters to share (£22), fries & aioli each (£6 per portion), and martinis (extra dry, filthy — £13). They arrived swiftly, perched on a silver metal stand that matched the interior. Our server described the two oyster varieties—though, admittedly, this was lost on our alcohol-addled minds. One type was noticeably bigger and meatier; I only managed one before my friend swooped up the other two. Fair play.

Accompaniments included lemon wedges, shallot vinaigrette, and a homemade hot sauce served in a medicinal dropper bottle. Chic, if a little robotic—like something a cyborg might garnish their lunch with.

The fries, dusted with Tajín, were fine—though I’d have maybe preferred them without. That, in many ways, captures the restaurant’s ethos: a carefully curated experience with little room for adjustment. It sits firmly on the “chef knows best” end of the dining-autonomy scale. Not a complaint, though; if I wanted everything exactly my way, I’d cook at home.

The bill came to around £70, including service charge, between us. Not cheap, but fair for the quality and presentation. I’d return for a fuller meal and to see how the space hums during a busier service.

The verdict? Noisy Oyster serves up futuristic chic and a streamlined menu worth experiencing. Go for the martinis, stay for the interiors, and maybe bring a friend who won’t steal all the meaty oysters.

https://www.noisyoysterlondon.co.uk/

2, Nicholls Clarke Yard, London E1 6SH

Noisy Oyster

Noble Rot Soho