Take a snapshot of the London dining scene in 2012 and what would you have seen? Marina O'Loughlin pinpoints the coolest trends that the capital’s restaurants worked last year and
merges them into one destination...
What happened? There we were, enjoying our linen tablecloths, silverware, confirmed bookings and perfectly groomed waitstaff when – boom – the concept of restaurants as we knew them went belly up.
2012 was the year we decided we wanted to eat in shacks or dives or warehouses, the year that gourmet got properly trashy. Food we had previously sneered at – hot dogs, burgers, fried chicken – got
given a glossy veneer of sophistication and a reintroduction to the middle classes. It’s not piggery, my dears, it’s irony. And such delicious irony, too. It doesn’t matter if your average
American-cheese-draped-battered-pickled-burger with triple-cooked fries followed by a build-your-own-ice-cream-sundae weighs in at around 8,000 calories – it’s Dude Food, so that’s ok! And isn’t
the tattooed server just the cutest thing?
We also decided we’d be happy to eat in the street, perched on benches, clutching tin-foil-wrapped items whose contents careered down our fronts. Knives and forks are so passé. And our Brit reserve
vanished in the face of communal tables and over-strength cocktails served in jam jars.
So where does one go to join in the good, dirty fun, you might ask? Hah! That would be telling: as if anyone’s going to be gauche enough to put, like, a sign outside their restaurant. (Is it a
restaurant? Is it a pop-up? Does it matter if it’s going to be around for six weeks or two years? Who knows; all we care about is that it’s not going to be around forever so we need to eat there
quick.)
Are there several items
to choose from on your menu? Yawn: that’s just so last century. Today’s branché joint needs to have distilled its offering until you can recite the entire menu by heart after giving it just one
cursory glance.
Even purveyors of haute cuisine have reinvented themselves. Jason Atherton, previously corseted by the constraints of working in Big Sweary Gordon’s empire, loosened his stays when he opened Pollen
Street Social, installing a dessert bar and offering dry-ice-spewing cocktails.
There will always be those who carp, the odd fossil who doesn’t like the inevitable march of progress and bemoans the informality and democratisation. And I have yet to meet anyone who likes to
queue. But I welcome (most of) it – the trends have revivified a somewhat stagnant dining-out scene and, crucially, made it fun again.
But as I order the off-menu burger, neck dirty Martinis from a jar or nibble E5 Bakehouse bread at yet another gaff with filament lightbulbs, NY subway tiles, Tolix stools and reclaimed school
desks, I can’t shake the sneaking suspicion that one day in the not-too-distant future we will be sneering at all this as being ‘soooo 2012, sweeties’. In the meantime, there’s a handy bunch of
semiotics that tells you in no uncertain terms that the place you’re in is scorching hot: and if we were to create a single restaurant that encapsulated each of Restaurantland’s most current
scenester trends, it might look something like this…
Are we here yet?
Announcing a restaurant’s name on a sign? How utterly callow. You want your customers to feel a real sense of achievement once they’ve found you – and it helps if you have seats that look out onto
the street so that smug in-the-knows can enjoy the schadenfreude of less-blessed punters’ obvious confusion as they peer in. As for putting a menu outside – hahaha! As if!
Sign in at: 10 Greek Street, Experimental Cocktail Club, La Bodega Negra Restaurant & Bar
For trucks’ sake
Tables and cutlery are for wimps. There’s nothing that gets the juices flowing more successfully than a pulled-pork burrito crammed into tin foil; a Momofuku-style pork bun; a sticky, sloppy rib
roll; okonomiyaki or deep-fried doughnuts with salted caramel. Initially, most street-fooders will swear that a life on the road is the one for them – until winter kicks in and they start to look
longingly at bricks and mortar...
Be street at: Kimchi Cult (Korean-style fast food), Street Kitchen (healthy, on-the-go meals), Yum Bun (Asian-style steamed buns)
Why are we waiting?
So why the sudden rash of no-booking restaurants? Perhaps it’s something to do with the fact that a queue is worth more than diamonds to the buzz-seeking restaurateur. Not only does it act like
honey to wasps, but you avoid the financial pitfalls of no-shows and empty tables. And your punters, having waited an age for their food, will (unsurprisingly) find it the most delicious thing
they’ve ever eaten.
Join the queue at: Bubbledogs, Honest Burgers, Lucky
Chip Slider Bar, Meatliquor, Pitt Cue Co
Is this
seat taken?
With the number of communal tables sprouting up all over the capital, you might be forgiven for mistaking the natives as a cheery, gregarious bunch. In fact, the only thing these overgrown benches
serve to achieve is to make us even more territorial – God forbid your backside should touch my bag! (Unless, of course, we’re inebriated, in which case they’re the best thing ever and you’re my
new best friend and I love yer.)
Mark your territory at: José, Nopi, Pizza East, Tramshed
Servers ink
Once upon a time on the likes of Gumtree, you’d see ads for waitstaff specifying no piercings or visible tattoos. Now, servers at the hippest joints in town are having tattoo contests to find who’s
brandishing the best-decorated bods. There are tattoos and tattoos, however: bespoke ‘sleeves’ are in; ‘Mum’ underneath a daggered heart, or ‘love/hate’ on the knuckles just ain’t going to cut it.
Admire the art at: Burger & Lobster, Hawksmoor, Lardo, Spuntino
Compliments straight to the chef
This is the restaurant world’s equivalent of breaking theatre’s fourth wall – not only is there an open kitchen, but the chefs (who are usually thin, intense, whiskery and tattooed), will often
hand you the food themselves. This practice became all the rage after diners went to Noma and got to actually, like, touch René Redzepi.
Get up close and personal at: 10 Greek Street, Ducksoup, Viajante
Going solo
Remember those intricate menus, long on enticing descriptions? Wave them goodbye. Here there’s only a handful of options – and that’s if you’re lucky – usually steak or chicken with a rogue
sighting of lobster rolls. In the coolest places, there’s only one choice – but hey, it’s designer hotdogs. You know you’re in a red-hot restaurant when there are only two words on the blackboard.
And one of them is ‘chicken’.
Assess your options at: Bubbledogs, Burger & Lobster, Chicken Shop, Tramshed, Wishbone
Tongue in cheek
There once was a time when any self-respecting foodie was compelled to hide their predilection for KFC, Big Macs or macaroni cheese as a shameful, grubby little secret. No more: now, fish finger
sarnie lovers are out and proud. Just as long as they’re made with artisan bread, sustainable fish and homemade tartare sauce. It’s a fine line this one, and some people – (cough) Gregg Wallace
(cough) – took it too far...
Feel the irony at: Bistro Union (fish finger sandwiches), Lucky Chip Slider Bar (build-your-own sundae), Rita’s Bar & Dining (fried chicken)
What’s your
jam?
Don’t serve your food in conventional crockery: that’s a mug’s game. Now it’s all about enamel pie dishes, cocktails served in teacups or jamjars, and cleavers in place of steak knives. And what’s
the hippest thing in Hipland right now? Astonishingly, it’s the stalwart of the old man’s boozer, the dimpled pint glass.
Indulge in the novelty at: Caravan Kings Cross (dimpled half-pint glasses), Lounge Bohemia (cocktails in perfume bottles or toothpaste tubes), Spuntino (enamel dishes)
This feature was published in Square Meal Restaurants & Bars guide 2012-13.