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King’s College Hospital London review: A Place to Eat Your Feelings
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King’s College Hospital London review: A Place to Eat Your Feelings
When staying at King’s College Hospital London, you may worry about many things, but you do not need to worry about eating well.
The Highs
The Lows
The Highs
The Lows
King’s College Hospital London: A Place to Eat Your Feelings
Comfort eating is a phrase blithely pelted around, but one only truly appreciates its therapeutic force for good when life demands it.
I’ve come to that phase in life where hospitals are not just things that happen to other people. Instead, hospitals became flagpoles planted at the brow of life’s corners, arching from births to deaths. Hospitals are where the extremities of our very existence present themselves.
These purpose-built institutes are stark reminders that ageing is not merely superficial — a notion simply thwarted by Botox and BB creams. No, ageing eventually means our bodies surrender and acquiesce to the grinding pressure of time.
King’s College Hospital London Dubai Hills is where I’ve clocked my latest ten thousand steps a day, traipsing up and down its corridors, making small talk with affable nurses, befriending multiple security guards and avoiding eye contact with sick people. And I mean really sick people. People like the man a few rooms down flanked by a duo in scrubs, watching numbers beep away as hoses and tubes seemingly sprout from this frail older man who was there every day, until one morning, he wasn’t.
The highs, the lows, the seemingly endless waiting: it all makes me want to eat my feelings.

Views from King’s College Hospital London overlooking Dubai Hills and some desert areas not yet developed
I’ve come to that phase in life where hospitals are not just things that happen to other people. Instead, hospitals became flagpoles planted at the brow of life’s corners, arching from births to deaths. Hospitals are where the extremities of our very existence present themselves.
These purpose-built institutes are stark reminders that ageing is not merely superficial — a notion simply thwarted by Botox and BB creams. No, ageing eventually means our bodies surrender and acquiesce to the grinding pressure of time.
King’s College Hospital London Dubai Hills is where I’ve clocked my latest ten thousand steps a day, traipsing up and down its corridors, making small talk with affable nurses, befriending multiple security guards and avoiding eye contact with sick people. And I mean really sick people. People like the man a few rooms down flanked by a duo in scrubs, watching numbers beep away as hoses and tubes seemingly sprout from this frail older man who was there every day, until one morning, he wasn’t.
The highs, the lows, the seemingly endless waiting: it all makes me want to eat my feelings.
Views from King’s College Hospital London overlooking Dubai Hills and some desert areas not yet developed
King’s College Hospital London: hospital food never excites
Substack readers will know I am here because my son came into the world sooner than expected, necessitating an earlier, more prolonged stay at King’s College Hospital London Dubai Hills (subscribe here).
You would never plan to eat in a hospital in normal circumstances. They are not gastronomic institutes and, being frank, if given the news that I had less time in front of me than behind me, the threat of seeing my final days consume hospital grub would not help the medicine go down. Hospital food is often the thing that makes airline food look like a good time.
(By the way, if you are the person to issue that life-clipping sentence to me, at least have the dignity to do it in Ossiano with an Alsace Grand Cru at the ready. Or during the 6 pm seating at Tresind Studio with pani puri in hand or, better still, while sitting on the shores of Lake Garda at Ristorante Lido 84.)
Yet, eat we must. In hospitals, as in life; not least because the nurses won’t discharge you until you have rustled up a bowel movement–even if you are in for so much as a sunburn. (Note: that is intentional exaggeration for comedic effect; the nurses at King’s College Hospital London Dubai Hills are nothing but genuinely hard-working and wonderful people, but a bowel movement, you must.)

Beef Lasagna and Chinese Sweet and Sour Chicken, King’s College Hospital London
You would never plan to eat in a hospital in normal circumstances. They are not gastronomic institutes and, being frank, if given the news that I had less time in front of me than behind me, the threat of seeing my final days consume hospital grub would not help the medicine go down. Hospital food is often the thing that makes airline food look like a good time.
(By the way, if you are the person to issue that life-clipping sentence to me, at least have the dignity to do it in Ossiano with an Alsace Grand Cru at the ready. Or during the 6 pm seating at Tresind Studio with pani puri in hand or, better still, while sitting on the shores of Lake Garda at Ristorante Lido 84.)
Yet, eat we must. In hospitals, as in life; not least because the nurses won’t discharge you until you have rustled up a bowel movement–even if you are in for so much as a sunburn. (Note: that is intentional exaggeration for comedic effect; the nurses at King’s College Hospital London Dubai Hills are nothing but genuinely hard-working and wonderful people, but a bowel movement, you must.)
Beef Lasagna and Chinese Sweet and Sour Chicken, King’s College Hospital London
Give me food that provides pure joy in the short term but is guaranteed to deny my long-term lifespan. We are in a hospital, after all. I quite literally could not think of a better place to have a heart attack.
King’s College Hospital London, making the case for hospital food
A QR code in blazer blue reads “Menu”. Liam, we’ve come a long way from Mount Hope General Hospital in Trinidad. King’s College Hospital London’s menu is reassuringly comforting. Both Mrs EatGoSee and I are reassured that someone in the kitchen just gets that people want to eat normal fayre, albeit in quarantined parcels.
In a nod to “doing a health”, there’s grilled fish (type not specified) and grilled chicken breast. Those dishes must be for recovering creatine addicts. Having a baby is not the time to nourish your gains.
Give me comfort food. Give me food that provides pure joy in the short term but is guaranteed to deny my long-term lifespan. We are in a hospital, after all. I quite literally could not think of a better place to have a heart attack.

Chicken Tikka Masala with Fresh Cut Fruit, King’s College Hospital London
Scrolling down, what’s that? Beef burgers and beef stroganoff. Now we are talking. No wagyu or Australian Angus hard sell on the menu, but whose insurance will stretch to that anyway?
There are side dishes of white rice (OK, fine), brown rice (yawn), potato wedges (better), mashed potato (now we’re talking), grilled vegetables (I probably should) and dhal. Dhal!
Dhal is not just a choice; it’s a clue.

Saag Paneer with hench Potato Wedges with Hummus, Cut Vegetables and Apple Pie, King’s College Hospital London
A saag paneer dish is a bowl of deepest moss green with pudgy cubes of cottage cheese steeped under a drift of puréed, spiced spinach. It comes with wedges that look like they bench 350. Mrs EatGoSee opts for wedges, as she’s never met a potato she didn’t like. Saag and wedges it is.
Desi dishes pepper the menu. The chicken biryani is overlooked as Mrs EatGoSee orders a vegetarian one. It’s fluffy, fragrant and met with silent stabbing by a fork. However, it is notably shy on spicing, which may be a conscious decision for these catheterised diners. A rust-stained chicken tikka masala (that rogue second cousin of murgh makhani) is tender and swimming in enough sauce to spoon and lacquer the white rice ochre (Mrs EatGoSee’s choice). It sports all the spicing and nuance of a Spinney’s ready meal (that is to say, a good ready meal).
Breakfast arrives early each morning, just after my newborn son’s feed where his pointed feedback about the tiresome breast milk is shared with the chef directly.
There are eggs of various strides, mostly scrambled and well-cooked cheese omelettes. (My British West Country wife murmurs, “It’s American cheese…” in disparaging whispers.) Pancakes, croissants with jam, slabs of manakeesh and those two bits of factory-grade bread we never order (but always turn up) inexplicably enveloped in plastic.
The English breakfast tea is weaker than Rishi Sunak’s chances of staying in office, but the cafe on the ground floor will rustle up a proper brew stronger than Suella’s revenge.


The King’s College Cafe and the selection of cookies baked each day in the King’s College Cafe, downstairs inside King’s College Hospital London
The Cafe is smartly decorated in a pastiche of Portuguese tiling almost certainly sourced from IKEA. Well-lit and swaddled in matte navy blue paint alongside photo murals of King’s College Hospital London’s long history. You can order “proper” chicken and mushroom pies. The kind where the sturdy pastry goes all the way around, unlike those other “pies” which are merely “stew with a lid”, Mrs EatGoSee hisses. “Impiesters”, I declare proudly. Her eyebrows furrow with disapproval and a renewed worry about my breeding stock.
These days, while our son sits encased in NICU, I survive on a diet of this Cafe’s Greek Salad and fresh beetroot juice; the latter would exact an untold horror on those bowel-crazed nurses. Believe me.
Mrs EatGoSee feeds her recovering body with meaty lasagnas the size of floor tiles and ladles of silky macaroni cheese. Again, with wedges eligible for the CrossFit Games. Mercifully, salt and pepper sachets are on hand.

Macaroni Cheese with Steamed Vegetables and Scrambled Eggs Breakfast with Pancakes, King’s College Hospital London
Underseasoned macaroni cheese aside, you cannot help but be grateful. Grateful for things far more important than smooth mashed potatoes. (Although, my dad would argue otherwise).
The business of care is complicated, expensive and in service of those who need it, notwithstanding their idiosyncrasies and fraying tempers. I see a lot of righteous self-importance and terse words about menial things exacted at King’s College Hospital’s staff while I sit in hallways. It speaks of misplaced fear. I understand fear. I understand how passions can drive you to do such things, but the well-intentioned team here deserve better.
I am most grateful for the professionalism of all those we met at King’s College Hospital London, not just during this recent stay, but in the weeks, months and years we rotated through its doors. I am relieved to have health insurance that covers my child’s stint in NICU. I cannot tell you how much that means. I am humbled as our premature son was nursed and cared for in those moments our inexperience was exposed and laid uncomfortably bare. When my wife rested easily and quietly for ten whole days as doctors and nurses cared for her every need.
I ate a lot during these ten days. More than just food. I ate handfuls of pride, surrendering those dearest to me to the hands of trained strangers. But here, during a quiet moment in a dark hospital room as I poke through a chicken Caesar salad with more than enough Parmesan, I glance over at my awesome sleeping wife who produced our wonderful son, comforted in the knowledge that, whatever is next, we have each other, him and, the team here at King’s College Hospital London who, if you are reading this, thank you. Thank you more than you ever could know.

King’s College Cafe and the pie, salad and sandwich selection prepared each day, King’s College Hospital London
I sincerely hope not, but I would bring enough hot sauce and sea salt for the ride.
Anyone having a baby in Dubai. Free Wi-Fi hunters and affordable coffee lovers. Those who like a real pie (not impiesters).
King’s College Hospital London, Dubai Hills, Dubai. Downstairs Cafe does not require reservations. In-patient dining is also available. You can find out more via King’s College Hospital London’s website.
Written by Liam Collens // Find other reviews here. Liam is a restaurant critic, food and travel writer based in the Middle East. He owns EatGoSee and contributes to other publications. You can find Liam on Substack, Threads, Instagram or Facebook.
In a nod to “doing a health”, there’s grilled fish (type not specified) and grilled chicken breast. Those dishes must be for recovering creatine addicts. Having a baby is not the time to nourish your gains.
Give me comfort food. Give me food that provides pure joy in the short term but is guaranteed to deny my long-term lifespan. We are in a hospital, after all. I quite literally could not think of a better place to have a heart attack.
Chicken Tikka Masala with Fresh Cut Fruit, King’s College Hospital London
Scrolling down, what’s that? Beef burgers and beef stroganoff. Now we are talking. No wagyu or Australian Angus hard sell on the menu, but whose insurance will stretch to that anyway?
There are side dishes of white rice (OK, fine), brown rice (yawn), potato wedges (better), mashed potato (now we’re talking), grilled vegetables (I probably should) and dhal. Dhal!
Dhal is not just a choice; it’s a clue.
Saag Paneer with hench Potato Wedges with Hummus, Cut Vegetables and Apple Pie, King’s College Hospital London
A saag paneer dish is a bowl of deepest moss green with pudgy cubes of cottage cheese steeped under a drift of puréed, spiced spinach. It comes with wedges that look like they bench 350. Mrs EatGoSee opts for wedges, as she’s never met a potato she didn’t like. Saag and wedges it is.
Desi dishes pepper the menu. The chicken biryani is overlooked as Mrs EatGoSee orders a vegetarian one. It’s fluffy, fragrant and met with silent stabbing by a fork. However, it is notably shy on spicing, which may be a conscious decision for these catheterised diners. A rust-stained chicken tikka masala (that rogue second cousin of murgh makhani) is tender and swimming in enough sauce to spoon and lacquer the white rice ochre (Mrs EatGoSee’s choice). It sports all the spicing and nuance of a Spinney’s ready meal (that is to say, a good ready meal).
Breakfast arrives early each morning, just after my newborn son’s feed where his pointed feedback about the tiresome breast milk is shared with the chef directly.
There are eggs of various strides, mostly scrambled and well-cooked cheese omelettes. (My British West Country wife murmurs, “It’s American cheese…” in disparaging whispers.) Pancakes, croissants with jam, slabs of manakeesh and those two bits of factory-grade bread we never order (but always turn up) inexplicably enveloped in plastic.
The English breakfast tea is weaker than Rishi Sunak’s chances of staying in office, but the cafe on the ground floor will rustle up a proper brew stronger than Suella’s revenge.
The King’s College Cafe and the selection of cookies baked each day in the King’s College Cafe, downstairs inside King’s College Hospital London
The Cafe is smartly decorated in a pastiche of Portuguese tiling almost certainly sourced from IKEA. Well-lit and swaddled in matte navy blue paint alongside photo murals of King’s College Hospital London’s long history. You can order “proper” chicken and mushroom pies. The kind where the sturdy pastry goes all the way around, unlike those other “pies” which are merely “stew with a lid”, Mrs EatGoSee hisses. “Impiesters”, I declare proudly. Her eyebrows furrow with disapproval and a renewed worry about my breeding stock.
These days, while our son sits encased in NICU, I survive on a diet of this Cafe’s Greek Salad and fresh beetroot juice; the latter would exact an untold horror on those bowel-crazed nurses. Believe me.
Mrs EatGoSee feeds her recovering body with meaty lasagnas the size of floor tiles and ladles of silky macaroni cheese. Again, with wedges eligible for the CrossFit Games. Mercifully, salt and pepper sachets are on hand.
Macaroni Cheese with Steamed Vegetables and Scrambled Eggs Breakfast with Pancakes, King’s College Hospital London
Underseasoned macaroni cheese aside, you cannot help but be grateful. Grateful for things far more important than smooth mashed potatoes. (Although, my dad would argue otherwise).
The business of care is complicated, expensive and in service of those who need it, notwithstanding their idiosyncrasies and fraying tempers. I see a lot of righteous self-importance and terse words about menial things exacted at King’s College Hospital’s staff while I sit in hallways. It speaks of misplaced fear. I understand fear. I understand how passions can drive you to do such things, but the well-intentioned team here deserve better.
I am most grateful for the professionalism of all those we met at King’s College Hospital London, not just during this recent stay, but in the weeks, months and years we rotated through its doors. I am relieved to have health insurance that covers my child’s stint in NICU. I cannot tell you how much that means. I am humbled as our premature son was nursed and cared for in those moments our inexperience was exposed and laid uncomfortably bare. When my wife rested easily and quietly for ten whole days as doctors and nurses cared for her every need.
I ate a lot during these ten days. More than just food. I ate handfuls of pride, surrendering those dearest to me to the hands of trained strangers. But here, during a quiet moment in a dark hospital room as I poke through a chicken Caesar salad with more than enough Parmesan, I glance over at my awesome sleeping wife who produced our wonderful son, comforted in the knowledge that, whatever is next, we have each other, him and, the team here at King’s College Hospital London who, if you are reading this, thank you. Thank you more than you ever could know.
King’s College Cafe and the pie, salad and sandwich selection prepared each day, King’s College Hospital London
King’s College Hospital London, Would I Return?
I sincerely hope not, but I would bring enough hot sauce and sea salt for the ride.
King’s College Hospital London, Who Should Come Here?
Anyone having a baby in Dubai. Free Wi-Fi hunters and affordable coffee lovers. Those who like a real pie (not impiesters).
King’s College Hospital London, Dubai Hills, Dubai. Downstairs Cafe does not require reservations. In-patient dining is also available. You can find out more via King’s College Hospital London’s website.
Written by Liam Collens // Find other reviews here. Liam is a restaurant critic, food and travel writer based in the Middle East. He owns EatGoSee and contributes to other publications. You can find Liam on Substack, Threads, Instagram or Facebook.
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