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Lord of the Pies: Holborn Dining Room vs J. Sheekey

When it comes to British pie craftsmanship, two London legends stand in quiet rivalry. One is a high-art, pastry-focused atelier nestled beneath the Rosewood; the other, a Covent Garden seafood institution with an unwavering devotion to its creamy fish pie.

Holborn Dining Room: Pie Couture

Located under the grandeur of Rosewood London on High Holborn, Holborn Dining Room houses The Pie Room, craft-led and pastry-obsessed, created by head chef Calum Franklin—often dubbed the “King of Pies”. The interior exudes refined minimalism, with marble tables and a striking gin bar offering 500+ gins.

The Pies

Pies arrive as handcrafted masterpieces. The Hand-raised pork pie is served hot—crisp, buttery pastry casing hiding a dense filling of smoked bacon, pork, and rich, cared-for jelly—an intensely satisfying bite. Also on offer are seasonal creations like chicken, girolle & tarragon and curried mutton pie; takeaway options start from £7–9, while dining-in experiences can run £70+ per person in private settings.

Every pie is visually ornate, with pastry design as elegant as architecture, all constructed by minimal handling to preserve flakiness.

J Sheekey: Classic comfort from the sea

At the other end of High Holborn lies J. Sheekey, a seafood stalwart established in 1896 in Covent Garden, with a cosy, clubby dining room and theatrical charm. Though famed for its oyster bar, the Fish Pie remains its crowd favorite—around £21–22.

The Fish Pie

Chunks of cod, salmon, and smoked haddock swim in a luscious mustard-spiked cream sauce, topped with creamy mashed potato and golden breadcrumb crust. The dish is rich-yet-comforting and emblematic of marine comfort, perfectly matched by warmly elegant surroundings and theatrical ease.

Face-off

The Verdict

Holborn Dining Room elevates the British pie, offering pastry poetry and craftsmanship that dazzles the eyes and palate alike. J. Sheekey, by contrast, offers warm, soulful homage to British seafood tradition—less decoration, more depth of comfort.

For pastry artistry and theatrical flair, Holborn is your theatre. But for reliable culinary nostalgia in every spoonful, J. Sheekey remains unmatched.

5-Minute Art Challenge: Anguish by Schenck

Set a timer. Now, look at Anguish by Martin Schenck for five full minutes. (No reading—just seeing.) How does it feel? Tense? Confined? Questioning?

Now for the interpretation…

A ewe stands protectively over her lifeless lamb in a cold, grey landscape, captured mid-bleat—the thin, ghostly vapour of her breath trail glistens in the frigid air, a harrowing snapshot of grief made visible.

Cascading blood trickles from the lamb’s mouth onto pristine snow, a subtle yet devastating mark of loss.

Ominous crows surround them in a structured, silent ring—no frantic rustling, just an eerie, patient watchfulness, as if the brutality of nature itself is our silent judge.

Schenck anthropomorphises the ewe’s stance: her sorrow is palpable, her determination unmistakably maternal. In this wilderness, she is alone—defiant love against grim inevitability.

The breath emerging from her mouth isn’t simply cold air—it’s the transition of life into memory. It symbolizes hope’s fragile exhalation amid despair.

Crows in Victorian allegory often signify omens or mortality. Here, they stand as silent metaphors for societal indifference—waiting, detached, inevitable.

Composed in near-monochrome tones, the painting amplifies mourning as a universal experience, stripped of distraction, bathed in raw emotion.

What did you feel most—grief, defiance, quiet beauty?