Pick And Cheese - Camden Reviews

Okay, friend. Grab your coffee and let’s chat. I finally made it to Pick & Cheese in Camden. And honestly? I need to tell you everything.

This place is a melted-cheese dreamscape masquerading as a casual lunch spot. It’s on the ground floor of the massive Camden Market food hall. You know, the one that smells like incense, fried halloumi, and possibility?

Here’s the gist: raclette. On everything. It’s a conveyor belt of joy. You sit at a little counter, and plates of food roll past you like tiny, cheesy trains.

You just grab what you want. It’s like a sushi-go-round, but everything is drenched in molten Swiss cheese. What’s not to love?

First Impressions: The Vibe

The place is tiny. I mean, you could blink and miss it. It’s loud, it’s chaotic, and the music is a little too cool for school.

But that’s the charm. You’re crammed next to strangers, all united by a single, sacred mission: eat as much hot cheese as humanly possible. The staff are cheerful, but they move like they’re fighting a beautiful, delicious war.

You order a plate of cheese base (that’s the raclette), and then you watch the belt. The anticipation is maddening. Is that a potato with cheese? A cornichon? Yes, please.

The Food: A Cheesy Rollercoaster

Let’s break it down. The classic is, well, classic. You get a little pan of gooey raclette, a boiled potato, some pickles, and a pile of cured ham. Simple. Perfect.

But the real stars are the weird ones. The pickled jalapeño number? Absolute fire. It’s a tiny volcano of tangy heat wrapped in milk-fat silk. I ate three of them. No regrets.

And then there’s the truffle option. It’s rich, it’s earthy, and it smells like a forest after rain. But I have to be honest—it’s almost too much. Like wearing a fur coat in a sauna. You tried, cheese. You tried.

Don’t skip the sides. The little gherkins are essential. They cut through all that fat like a sharp little acid knife. And the bread? It’s crusty and chewy, perfect for mopping up the puddles of cheese you’ll inevitably spill.

The Dreaded "Cheese Break"

Here’s a thing nobody tells you: You will hit a wall. Around plate number five, your stomach will stage a tiny protest. It will whisper, “Are you sure, buddy?”

That’s when you need a breather. Try a bit of the cured meat. The coppa is fatty and peppery, and it resets your palate. Or just sip your beer and stare at the belt for a minute.

It’s a marathon, not a sprint. Pace yourself. Or don’t. I did not pace myself, and I regretted it. Then I ordered another plate. Regret is temporary, cheese is forever.

Price: Is It Worth It?

Let’s talk money. It’s not cheap. You’re paying for the novelty and the prime location. Expect to drop about £15–£20 per person if you’re sensible.

But me? I wasn’t sensible. I spent about £30 and felt like a bloated, happy king. For a fun afternoon with a friend? It’s a treat. For a regular Tuesday lunch? Maybe skip it.

You can also just order one or two plates and a drink. Nobody’s judging. Except the guy behind you who is eating eight plates. Don’t be that guy. Or do. I was that guy.

The Verdict (No Spoilers, Just Cheese)

Overall, Pick & Cheese is an experience. It’s playful, it’s messy, and it’s very Camden. It’s the kind of place you drag a visiting friend to, just to see their face when a plate of glowing cheese slides past.

Is it the best cheese in London? No. That title belongs to a hidden-from-humans fromagerie in some secret alley. But is it the most fun cheese? Absolutely.

You leave smelling like a fondue pot. Your fingers are sticky. You have a tiny pickle stain on your shirt. And you don’t care. Because you conquered the conveyor belt.

So, go. Go with an empty stomach and a full heart. Or just go because you’re hungry and you like cheese. You know who you are.

And if you see me there? I’ll be the one on my fourth jalapeño plate, laughing at my own hubris. Come say hi. Bring a napkin.