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Being past your prime gets a bad rap. Ask anyone who’s seen The Rolling Stones live recently. They'll tell you that there’s something quite endearing about what might at first glance resemble four dehydrated Top Gear audience members doing karaoke. Odette’s in Primrose Hill has got a touch of this about it. It’s a Bill Nighy character in restaurant form, serving up flair-ish dishes that have a touch of the razzle-dazzle about them, like a generously horseradish-topped salmon tartare, but that, ultimately, flatter to deceive. Nothing here is even close to bad, just things like a dry confit chicken leg with wild garlic sauce feel and taste par for the course. Nevertheless, Odette’s is perfectly pleasant for a reasonable set lunch under twenty quid. Sit inside if you want to feel like you’re eating with your parents, or out front if you want a twenty-year-old-Café-Rouge-terrace-begging-for-some-TLC vibe. Either way, it’s nice, but was probably nicer back in the day.

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