Over ten years of pop-ups and residencies across London, Cue Point’s founders, Mursal Saiq and Joshua Moroney, have built a cult following for their Afghan-Texan barbecue concept. Saiq, whose family fled Afghanistan to London via Mumbai, brings spice, pickles and memory-driven cooking; Moroney, formerly of SMOKESTAK, brings serious pitmaster credentials. Together, they’ve created something genuinely distinct in London’s restaurant scene: inclusive, skilled cooking with big personality.
Now, inside Latimer Road’s The Garden Bar, Cue Point has found a permanent home. Out back sits a sprawling beer garden: bench seating spills across the fairy-lit courtyard, candles flicker on tiled tables, and the scent of smoke drifts from a beast of a smoker (aka Betty). On a warm summer evening, soundtracked by near constant pint-clinking, it’s busy in the way only great spots are: slightly chaotic, but utterly charming.
Homely, abundant, with a wild, unruly edge – the food matches pace. Burnt ends, skewered with zingy homemade pickles, collapse at the touch of a fork into a smear of labneh. Chicken thigh torshi skewers, smothered in herby green chutney, hit just as hard – tender, bronzed, entirely addictive.
Cue Point could lean on meat alone (much of which is halal), but the team has excellent fish cookery to show off. A substantial cut of sea bass, blistered skin, slicked with chilli and citrus, arrives beautifully flaky, with crispy potatoes hot off the grill and a clever bed of greens to capture any rogue juices.
That said, sporting a crisp bark so caramelised it feels candied, Cue Point’s signature brisket steak remains a spectacular standout. Peppery and rich, it pulls apart with just a gentle tug. Alongside sits a blistered naan, crisp at the edges and fluffy within, which we drag through juices streaked with jalapeno jam.
Dessert is no afterthought. Encouraged by the rampant enthusiasm of our young server, we order the sticky toffee pudding. She’s entirely right: served in a dinky metal ice cream dish, the sponge is dense with dates, threaded with subtle ginger warmth, and topped with a fist-sized scoop of thick, rich kulfi.
Migration and remembrance shape Cue Point, but its joy is driven by a universal doctrine: big portions, personality, and generosity always mean a good time. Well into the evening, Betty is still smoking, and the garden remains packed – we, and all of west London, intend to keep it that way.