But who were these people? What kind of wine did they like? What kind of wine did they not like? What would be their regular order? Where would they like to sit? Who would they come here with?

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We now know the answers to those questions. Not for everyone, but for a good handful of our regulars. And really, it’s only with a step back from the bar – from the busyness of service and the general bump and grind of keeping it all going – that we can fully appreciate how much we’ve lucked out with our community and how, inadvertently, we’re in the middle of it. And we genuinely had no idea how entwined in people’s lives we would become.

There are the everyday interactions with our locals, and striking up a chat with new-to-the-area customers about nothing but also everything. We hear about DIY projects, wedding plans, pizza dough recipes, loft conversions, sleep training, Vinted purchases, must-see see films. The range is wide! And a reminder of the power of word of mouth and receiving recommendations based on actual human experiences.

But then there’s the not-so-everyday interactions, which come hurtling out of nowhere and have on occasions, left me flawed, humbled and wondering whether I’m cut out to be in this role.

By sheer proximity and without any kind of qualification, we absorb all sorts of big life news and share in the celebrations of what makes a life big. Pregnancies, bereavements, wedding parties, health scares, engagements, first steps, work promotions, milestone birthdays. We’re here for all of it and we don’t underestimate the privilege of being a very small part in someone’s monumental moment.

That’s what I’ve come to appreciate most about working in a restaurant. It’s not simply that our customers come and chat to us, share anecdotes, recommendations, books, or homemade treats with us. It’s that through all these little and sometimes, defining interactions, we’re constantly learning about who are customers are – what makes them tick, what they get up to when they’re not at the bar, what else is in their orbit. And by nurturing those conversations, we’re building something that feels increasingly hard to find: a community rooted in real-life connection, where people’s stories, recommendations, opinions and first-hand experiences (good and bad) are exchanged freely, and where simply knowing a little more about one another makes this place feel like more than just a bar.

Until next time, have a good one!

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But what I love even more is making delicious drinks at home. Now in the world of specialist drinks, I’m a novice; I have an idea, I whip up something using some instant coffee, some ice and maybe a blender and voilà! A drink that I’ll likely consume in the space of two minutes.

Who I’m aspiring to are the specialist drinks designers and makers who’ve actually transformed the average tipple into an entire category worthy of top billing. The likes of @forumforformation, Malik Acid and my good friend Rowena, Oatly’s head of food and drinks experience (who comes up with drinks like this, this and this!!!), make cocktails, cold-brew teas, coffees and other potable concoctions that aren’t designed to simply quench your thirst (although that is a benefit), they’re designed to be the main event.

I’m certainly not at the specialist standard in my drinks making career – at least, not yet – and my current rotation of DIY drinks aren’t refined and they’re not labour intensive. But they are thrilling to make and satisfying to drink and the process of putting them together makes me feel a bit like I'm five years old again, making mysterious potions during bath time.

And while I’ll never deny anyone the pleasure of paying over the odds for an iced -cold-drink when out and about – especially in this weather, when what else are we reaching for on the fly if it’s not a freshly poured pint, a Lipton Iced Tea (Peach) or a fridge-cold bottle of San Pellegrino? – hear me out. There’s something immensely satisfying about whipping up an unconventional little bev at home every now and again.

You don't need much; just some imagination, a fridge and maybe a blender if, like me, you like me, you enjoy sneaking a handful of fruit or veg into proceedings

Here are a few of the not-so-boring drinks I’ve been making lately:

Tomato water spritz

This one came about when I was making Pan Con Tomate for lunch one day. It’s basically a no-waste recipe, where you take watery run off from the grated tomato pulp and top it with sparkling water. Vichy Catalan works especially well here.

Optional additions: a sprinkle of sea salt and a dash or two of Worcestershire sauce if you’re after a little Bloody Mary energy.

Salted-honey iced coffee

Brew a small but strong cup of instant coffee (I use Nescafé Azera), add a generous drizzle of honey (runny or set both work) a pinch of sea salt and stir well. In a separate tall glass/vessel of your choice, add a handful of ice, milk (if using), then pour over your sweet-and-salty coffee, stir and enjoy.

20-second lemonade

When life gives you lemons etc.

It really is as easy and quick as blending one or two lemons (chopped into quarters) with water, a tablespoon of sugar and a glug of olive oil to make your very own lemonade. Strain out the rind and pitch using a sieve, then either top up with fizzy water or drink it straight over ice.

Optional additions: a slug of gin or Mother Root wouldn’t be out of place here.

Collagen strawberry milkshake

This concoction feels like a treat but comes with the skin-, nail-, bone- and hair-nourishing benefits of bovine collagen, which might sound a little strange in a milkshake but it’s completely tasteless.

Take a handful of fresh strawberries (stems removed) and add them to a blender with ice, half a cup of whole milk (preferably organic) and a 10g scoop of collagen powder – I like this one. Blend until smooth, pour into your favourite glass, drink and feel virtuous.

Banana vanilla smoothie

This is Jack’s favourite of my DIY drinks repertoire, which I’m currently drinking on a daily basis after a strange bout of nausea a couple of weeks ago. When I was feeling achy and queasy and had no appetite, this was the thing that fixed me.

For two people, I blend one banana with a generous scoop of vanilla protein powder (this is my go to), a pinch of salt and because the protein powder is mostly milk, I top it up with fridge-cold water and a handful of ice. Blend into a creamy oblivion and if you can, drink slowly to avoid brain freeze.

Optional additions: a heaped teaspoon of peanut butter for added protein/deliciousness.

Plus the aforementioned, JENKI Vanilla Sea Salt Matcha Latte, which is a doddle to re-create this one at home.

Until next time, have a good one!

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It includes a zoomed-out look at the influences behind our shift to a more casual dining experience, but one where the focus is on refined yet simplified food, as well as three examples of restaurants run by Michelin-starred chefs who’ve found the sweet spot: accessible pricing + uncompromising quality = greater value for diners.

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It’s an edited version of the original copy with a few extra tidbits for your reading pleasure. Enjoy and please let me know if you’ve tried any of the places mentioned in the comments below – I’d love to hear your thoughts!

We’re in an era of dining extremes.

At one end of the table, you’ve got multi-million-pound projects in prime postcodes, where every napkin fold and wall sconce has been through several design meetings. Big-budget openings from hospitality empires with deep pockets and immediate plans to expand across the country/globe/solar system.

At the other, there are the more casual spots. And in recent times, there’s been a pivot: we’re seeing top-tier chefs with Michelin Stars make the counter-intuitive decision to put themselves right at the bottom of the dining totem pole once more – to reverse the traditional roadmap, and go from the rarefied heights of haute cuisine back to flipping burgers.

Zooming out for a second, there are a few moving parts that lean to this shift towards casual dining:

Sheer survival: It’s an old record by now but costs in hospitality are rising across the board. We’re seeing hikes in national insurance, rent and supplier prices, which all put a huge amount of pressure on a restaurant’s bottom line. Having an affordable product – as long as it’s good! – whether it’s NY-style pizza, chopped chicken Caesar wraps or Korean matcha lattes is proving to be one of the most sustainable ways for operators to keep their heads above water.

Consumer Appetites: It seems we’re still riding 2025’s pizza wave and 2026 (so far) has been dominated by three food groups: pizza, burgers and rotisserie chicken. While all of these are undeniably delicious, they’re not anything new. In fact, that’s sort of the point – they nod to nostalgia and our desire for food that’s comforting and filling.

Good old fashioned money: Take pizza as an example; sure, it takes time, muscle power and patience to make a reliably delicious dough, but it’s made of water and flour, which are the cheapest ingredients out there. And the toppings? Unless we’re talking gold-leaf and truffle, they’re a lot more affordable than say, a prime cut of meat or fish. On that basis, even the very best pizza should never set you back more than £15.

Pressure to perform vs. perceived value: When your average diner is parting with a sizeable chunk of their monthly salary for one or two restaurant meals a month, it places enormous pressure on the experience to justify the spend.

By contrast, when that same diner drops in after work for a few snacks and a couple of drinks, the stakes are much lower. They’re not expecting a once-in-a-lifetime meal – they’re simply looking for an enjoyable evening. As a result, the parameters for perceived value become much broader.

At Joyau, for example, we aim to have at least five to seven dishes priced under £10 (not including service). From experience, we’ve seen that our customers are sometimes less inclined to commit to a dinner booking but will happily graze their way through a handful of plates. Ironically, they often end up ordering more food because there’s less pressure on the experience and more room for “fancy another drink/slice of pie/dessert?”.

Perhaps ‘Michelin-casual’ dining is a best-of-both-worlds solution born out of challenges and changes within the industry? The format offers the quality and craft of fine dining, minus the formality. It’s thoughtful, it’s delicious and it’s designed for the way diners actually want to eat out now; refined quality but in a relaxed environment.

If you want to see what casual fine-dining looks and tastes like for yourself, here’s where to start:

Heard. by Jordan Bailey

One of the most obvious examples of this evolution is Heard., a burger joint founded by two-Michelin-starred chef Jordan Bailey. He opened his first site close to Borough Market last year and followed it up swiftly with a second site in Soho. I’ve not personally tried a Heard. burger but its website says they’re made using “British beef [that] comes from a cooperative of regenerative farms. Aged for a minimum of 28 days, for the ultimate texture and taste.”

It’s all pretty convincing and I’d be hard pressed to pass up on the modestly name ‘Boring Burger’ – a double smash patty with aged Cheddar, white onion, Heard sauce and pickles but I’d probably skip the optional caviar.

Details: 1 Flat Iron Square, Borough, SE1 0AB & 31 Foubert’s Place, W1F 7QQ

Norbert’s by John Ogier and Jack Coghlan

Norbert’s is a rotisserie chicken joint co-founded by restaurateur John Ogier and chef Jack Coghlan - who both worked at the Michelin-starred Lyle’s (RIP). But this is not a punching-down decision from a duo who are wildly over-qualified to be basting leggy birds on a spit. This is a casual spot where the vibes are great, the Piña coladas flow and the food is simply but studiously delicious. The headline is obviously the chicken; they use a rare-breed Suffolk White, which is brined and then covered in spices before being mounted onto the rotisserie. A whole chicken - big enough to feed a group of 3 or 4 people - is £30 and it comes with sauces, two types of potatoes and a leafy salad.

It looks casual, feels casual but the food, though simple, is very deliberately delicious.

(Also in the recently-opened, rotisserie-chicken realm; our neighbours Roost in Forest Gate, Hendl at Hackney Church Brew Co. and Twirly Bird in Spitalfields Market).

Details: Melbourne Terrace, Melbourne Grove, SE22 8RE

Spring Street Pizza by Tom Kemble

You could argue the number of pizza spots in London is getting out of hand. But it’s not just the Italian-style staples, there’s Detroit-style slabs, New York-style pies the size of a dustbin lid and Chicago deep dishes.

Spring Street Pizza, just a stone’s throw from Borough Market, Michelin-starred chef Tom Kemble (formerly at Bonhams, The Pass), has traded tasting menus for tomato sauce, bringing fine-dining finesse to the humble pizza.

They serve 18-inch pies (either whole, or half-and-half for sharing), with riffs on the classics like a Margherita with basil pesto, or a Fennel Sausage & Friarelli dotted with scarmoza and flecked with calabrian chilli flakes. Add Italian cocktails, a few salty snacks to start, crust dips and soft serve to finish and you have yourself a winning formula for Michelin-starred casual dining.

Details: Arch 32, Southwark Quarter, Southwark Street, SE1 1TE | Find out more and book a table on the Spring Street Pizza website

The takeaway?

I’m not saying Michelin-casual dining is a compromise. It’s more like an evolution of how we want to eat now and how restaurants are pivoting to feed our appetites in order to stay afloat.

Chefs are taking everything they’ve learned in starred kitchens – technique, timing, turning of vegetables – and translating it into food that’s generous, still delicious and fun. From a diner’s perspective, we get to have our cake and eat it. We’re served dishes made by chefs at the top of their game in a setting that’s more relaxed with louder music and not a starched tablecloth in sight. And crucially the price point is more accessible.

There’s room for more creativity here too. A burger can be elevated with caviar, a pizza can be Michelin-level without needing freshly-pressed napkins, and a roast chicken can feel like a special occasion without unveiling it on a silver cloche.

In short, Michelin-starred casual dining proves that refinement doesn’t have to mean sticking rigidly to the rules. It can be relaxed, generous, profitable, and, most importantly, delicious.

*For more in-depth opinions on Spring Street Pizza and Norbert’s please read Jonathan Nunn’s reviews for .

Until next time, have a good one!

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Initially I wasn’t sold on the idea of having books at Joyau. I thought it might look a little cluttered and wouldn’t really make sense. But now, I couldn’t imagine the space without the books that line the shelf of our banquette seating. I see our guests picking them up and flicking through them on a daily basis. They flick from cover to cover, take photos of recipes and read aloud passages to their friends, children or simply loose themselves in a few pages while they sip on a glass of wine.

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Most of the books are ours, borrowed from the shelves at home, which are slowly but surely looking less ransacked. A small clutch have been kindly donated or loaned by our locals. I’ve taken books home, read them, kept them for longer than I probably should, then returned them to their rightful resting spot at the bar.

Over the last couple of weeks, I've been mulling over why books crop up in restaurants and the only answer I've landed on is: why not? Why not let the interests and wonderings of the people behind a restaurant spill out onto its shelves? Why not let diners interact with the restaurant in a way that isn’t just eating or drinking? Why not create an environment that encourages knowledge sharing, story telling and day dreaming?

While people go to restaurants for all sorts of reasons – to celebrate, to avoid cooking, to catch up with friends, to try something new – I like to think, done right, a restaurant can nourish something beyond appetite. It’s fitting that the word restaurant comes from the French restaurer: to restore. Originally, restaurants served steaming bowls of broths and cheap-to-make but hearty meals designed to restore the weary. Somewhere down the line, the idea expanded and today, that sense of restoration can come from conversation, music, good lighting, knowing what’s on the menu, generosity or simply feeling completely at ease somewhere. And a shelf of books seems entirely in keeping with the original meaning of a restaurant.

The books at Joyau have become as vital a part of the space as the Riedel wine glasses or the framed Willi’s Wine Bar poster. Yes they’re practical – for us, they’re a reference point when we brainstorm for new dishes or flick to a map of the Loire Valley, and they’re something to browse while guests wait for their dinner date – but that’s almost beside the point. What they really do is make the restaurant feel lived in and – I might sound a little Pollyanna here but, hey – alive.

Until next time, have a good one!

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La petite sœur literally translates to the little sister. But you know that already because if you’ve dabbled in beginner’s French at school or beyond, you’ll have covered the likes of la famille, les vaccances and les jours de la semaine.

What I only learnt recently is that la petite sœur has another life entirely.

In bars and cafés, asking for la petite sœur is a way of saying, “I’ll have another one of those.” Same again. The next glass is basically the “little sister” of the one you’ve just finished.

The French, naturally, have also found ways to make it even shorter. You might hear la p’tite sœur, or even la soeurette – essentially, lil sis.

So, next time you’re in Paris, Marseille, Lyon or Biarritz (maybe with a sister, or someone who feels like one), tuck this little morceau of French into your back pocket.

Until next time, have a good one!

While last week’s heatwave was intense at times, I loved it. Not to downplay the very real, very frightening reality of climate change, but there’s something about an endless blue sky, the warmth of the sun on your face, and a perfectly legitimate excuse for a daily ice cream that just feels good.

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Let’s get into the Hodge Podge!

Bites

Roasted vegetables might not sound riveting on paper, but the bundles of olive oil-bathed specimens that arrived at the table at Ornella tasted salty, sweet and tangy all in one bite. Mopped up with toasted focaccia fingers, this dish had the effect of transporting me to a sun-dappled palazzo, a long way from E8. Metaphorically. For a moment. You get it.

We had a Nudge team lunch at Impala a couple of weeks ago to celebrate three milestone work anniversaries. Everything we ordered was attention-grabbing and delicious, but the real standout for me was the duck. It’s roasted in molasses and served tableside with a sauce the colour of lacquered mahogany, studded with plump, sun-dried Tunisian figs. [Accompanying listening: Behind the Scenes of London’s Most Influential Restaurant Group w/ Songsoo Kim – you won’t look at harissa in the same way again.]

We’ve been back and forth with our chicken sandwich at Joyau. It’s been on and off – and on and off – and now it’s back on the menu, we think, for good. With every iteration our chefs, Eleni and Stevie, have made small tweaks, and I’d argue it’s now the best it’s ever been. Get your hands on one, Wednesday to Friday from 12.30–3pm.

Last weekend in Nice, I ate three Niçoise salads and they were all quite different. One had a marinated artichoke heart, one had just red pepper, one had both red and green pepper, and one had no pepper at all. It kept me on my toes and made me want to try more.

Another meal I ate at Chez Davia revolved around pistou – like Italian pesto, only made without cheese or pine nuts. I ordered soupe au pistou, served cold, and to my surprise it arrived as one solid mound – the opposite of soup. Whether it was solid or liquid was neither here nor there because it was delicious: peppery from the olive oil with an aniseed kick from the basil.

As a main, I ordered the linguine au pistou. What can I say? I panicked, and I love pistou. As Chloe René said: “I never thought the pistou linguine would be that good. How is it so excellent?!”

Moving & shaking

I went to a talk at the British Library as part of the 2026 Food Season. The topic was food photography and its evolution from the gloss and jelly molds of the 70s, to the algorithm appeasing videos we’re fed today. On the panel was Jonathan Lovekin (Nigel Slater’s long-time collaborator), Patricia Niven and Kenneth Lam. I loved hearing about each photographer’s different points of reference and their approach to capturing food to make it look delicious or, in Kenneth’s case, to make it reflect a mood. Like a tower of Gorgonzola he shot for the FT Weekend Magazine that to his eyes looked lonely.

Speaking of the FT Weekend Magazine, I wrote a piece for the Insider’s Notebook on the topic of kids in restaurants. It’s available to read here!

In case you missed it, Joyau is celebrating its third birthday this Saturday! Eleni and Stevie have put together an absolutely belter of a menu loosely inspired by Railroad (now Dalla in Hackney), and we’ll be firing up the BBQ early to serve food (and Soft & Swirly ice cream) from 2–9pm. If you’re around, come down!

And last week, I went to the press preview of Frida: The Making of an Icon on a morning when London looked as though it had been overlaid with a high-saturation filter: big blue skies, vibrant red double-decker buses and even the austere oblong of the Blavatnik Building tower appeared softer somehow.

Building on the gallery’s landmark 2005 exhibition, this new show – the most popular pre-sale show in Tate’s history – brings together more than 30 works by Kahlo, including rarely seen self-portraits alongside photographs, personal belongings, documents and the multicoloured Tehuana dresses that became part of the image she constructed for herself. But perhaps the clearest evidence of Kahlo’s status as an icon is the work that hangs alongside her own. Go see it!

Listening

Because the weather’s been so lovely, I’ve been doing a lot of walking and a lot of listening to podcasts. I’ll spare you the pop culture deep dives and instead, point you in the direction of some chats that I found particularly nourishing:

Vittles – The Staying Power of Koya w/ Shuko Oda

How Long Gone – 935.- Jago Rackman

Staying Open: Rita’s, London and Wilson’s Bristol

Beyond the Pass with Marie Mitchell

Homing: Chef Margot Henderson

Prompted by Jonathan Lovekin, I also revisited Nigel Slater’s Dessert Island Discs

Writing

A handful of pieces I’ve written in the last couple of months for The Nudge – it’s really ramping up out there!

VAT’s The Problem

Buvette

V&A East

Edami Bakery

Ice cream has been on my mind clearly; Chunk Provisions, charms, Soft & Swirly

Until next time, have a good one!

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Aside from hanging out in our hut – cooking, reading and talking to the sheep – we had a lovey time mooching about East Sussex and Kent.

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On our way down, we stopped at Sissinghurst Castle Garden. I’d wanted to visit for a while and it didn’t disappoint. The gardens were designed by poet and peripheral member of the Bloomsbury Group, Vita Sackville-West, and her husband Harold Nicolson, who moved here in 1930. The gardens are beautiful; billowing borders, manicured topiary, lakes, meadows, climbing roses, fig trees, so many bees and a writing gazebo designed to the same spec as Apollo 11.

Rather than wax on about plant varieties and our very clichéd pipe dream to eventually move to the countryside, here are some snapshots from a sunny few days getting off grid and out of the Gate.

Until next time, have a good one!

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When it came to questions from the audience, my hand involuntarily went up. Aside from the operational obstacles, emphasis on service and talk of crunching numbers, I was curious to know what these women do – and who they turn to – when they need to manage their own mental load.

Because, speaking frankly, it’s something I’ve struggled with.

For the record, running a restaurant is the most fun I’ve ever had at work. I get to meet amazing people, work in a team that pushes me to be better and watch my husband be brilliant at the thing he’s so passionate about. There’s a constant feed of things to be curious about; wine, seasonal ingredients and where they come from. For a people pleaser, there’s nothing more satisfying than seeing the positive impact of something you’ve helped to provide. In many ways, it’s a dream job.

But it can still be tiring and at times, it make you feel as though you’ve been hit by a bus.

One of the things I’ve realised over the last couple of years is that Jack and I recharge in completely different ways. Left to his own devices, Jack would happily spend a day at home, pottering in the garden, pruning our out of control rose and generally staying snuggly put. My instinct is usually the opposite. I want to see friends, book tickets, walk somewhere I’ve never walked before and have something(s) in the diary to look forward to.

More recently however, it feels as though we’ve found a happy middle ground. A slow afternoon at home followed by dinner with friends. A wander somewhere new followed by an afternoon in the garden. It’s growth for us both!

At the top of the list of other things that keep us sane and stable are friends.

When I was in my early twenties I thought your job was the most interesting thing about you. I was busy pursuing a corporate job, complete with a neat pay packet and a clear career path mapped out on LinkedIn. But when I got that job and the cushty salary, it was awful.

Now, the people I most enjoy spending time with barely talk about work at all. Or at least, work isn’t the headline. We talk about where they’ve been, what they’re reading, how their parents are doing, a recipe they’ve cooked three times in a week because they can’t stop thinking about it. All of that non-consequential, non-sequitur chat is a tonic!

Touching grass is an obvious and Goop-y thing to say, yes. But it really does help whenever I feel a bit foggy.

I don’t know enough about the science to explain it properly, but I do know I always feel better for marching around the block first thing in the morning, running before work (neither far nor fast), weeding the garden and getting dirt under my nails or simply standing in the sun for ten minutes. As someone who has never been a particularly gifted sleeper, I suspect the business about daylight helping your circadian rhythm is onto something too.

“We need to get out of the Gate,” is a phrase that’s become a bit of a joke but it’s partly serious.

When your commute takes six minutes and your life revolves around a handful of familiar streets, your world can start to feel as though it’s shrinking. A couple of times a week, it’s important to roam further than the four roads we cross between home and the restaurant. It could be four stops on the Lizzy line, a drive into Epping Forest or further afield to stay the night with family, just somewhere that has absolutely nothing to do with service or stock takes.

And finally, culture.

Earlier this year, inspired by , I spent an afternoon at the National Portrait Gallery before wandering over to the National Gallery. I listened to Max Richter, Sebastian Plano and Jon Hopkins and drifted in between the artworks as though I was in a daydream. It was blissful, inspiring and the pleasure of seeing those artworks didn’t cost me a penny.

Currently in my sights is the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts, and Marilyn Monroe: A Portrait at the National Portrait Gallery. Mostly because there is something restorative about spending time around people who have devoted themselves to making things – a reminder that creativity takes many forms and that hospitality is only one of them.

None of these things are particularly groundbreaking. They’re just the small things and reminders that help me/us to keep work and life in balance.

And when it all feels like a lot, that’s usually what I need most – a reminder that there’s more to life than what next week’s rota looks like.

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Until next time, have a good one!

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I love June. It feels like a month full of potential. As though we’re cresting a wave, at the point just before it tumbles into the cantering chaos of the year’s longest, hopefully warmest days.

So we’re halfway through 2026 and reaching this point has prompted me to reflect on what and where I’ve been eating. Inspired by Jonathan Nunn for and Isaac Rangswami’s top 20 dishes for , I’ve whittled down many meals into a neat (but not totally exhaustive) top ten. Let’s dig in!

BBQ-glazed sweetbreads at Le Cadoret, Paris

Eating wise, this year started strong. We went to Paris in the first week of January for our honeymoon, and the highlight of our sojourn was a knock-out meal at Le Cadoret. I would travel further than Paris to eat head chef Alice Newman’s food again and in particular these veal sweetbreads.

Offal is somewhat new territory to me, but I eat meat now and so I approach an opportunity to try any pork/beef/lamb/game/veal product with enthusiasm and curiosity. In Alice’s hands, these sweetbreads were plump, succulent, perfectly seasoned nuggets, served alongside charred-edge kalettes, tart labneh and a black cardamom sauce that was as glossy and lavish as caramel.

Grilled turbot for two at Kaia Kaipe, Getaria

I loved this meal and every mouthful of it but what made it even more memorable was the setting. A bit of context; we arrived in Getaria in the lashing rain, waves crashing up against the port walls and music filling the air. Charmed and a little confused by the crowds forming in the town square, we asked a woman at the reception of the Museo Cristóbal Balenciaga what was happening. She told us it was the day of txakoli, as casually as though she was telling us the toilets were on the first floor. “We’re always celebrating here,” she shrugged as we headed outside to join the revelry in the rain and the wind. We did a lap around the town then took shelter at a bar among the hordes of half-cut locals, before going to Kaia Kape (sister restaurant to El Kano) where we were the first people in for lunch.

Under the gazebo-ed terrace of the restaurant, we could hear the persistent patter of rain and we watched as people did their best to shield from the elements, while clutching bottles of wine and glasses as though their lives depended on it. To start, we ordered a plate of perfectly blushing prawns, grilled so simply and showered with chunky flakes of salt. We’d heard rapturous things about the grilled turbot for two so it felt rude not to order the King of the Sea and it did not disappoint. The fish arrived looking like it was paddling in the shallows, glistening in a rich, pil-pil style sauce. Our server filleted it table-side, delicately prizing the buttery flesh away from translucent bones, dividing the meat and the collagen-rich trimmings into two generous portions. All this care and celebration alongside roasted potatoes and dressed greens was, to me, as good as it gets.

Everything at Ling Ling’s at Godet, Islington

Before February I’d never tried Jenny Phung and James Shepherd’s food. Which is a small crime considering the duo have been on the pop-up circuit for the best part of 10 years, feeding pockets of London with her distinctly wholesome, “no rules” modern Chinese food. I loved everything about Jenny’s dishes; they were all texturally interesting, soul nourishing and complex without tasting fussed over.

Pork chop, winter tomato & cime di rapa at The Lavery, South Kensington

I ate at The Lavery in the depths of February, when we were still being whipped about by frosty winds and leaving work in the dark. The room is a remedy for any inclement weather – its a Georgian townhouse with high ceilings, ornate plasterwork climbing the walls, offset by Mid-Century furniture.

The dish I haven’t stopped thinking about was a pork chop served with winter tomatoes and cime di rapa. On paper, it’s hardly revolutionary. But on the plate, it was a reminder of how satisfying simplicity can be when every element is handled with care. The pork arrived cut into blushing, chubby tranches and kissed with sage, its trimmed fat cap just caramelised.

It’s not a cheap restaurant, The Lavery, but it’s also not cutting corners and for that alone, it’s a worthwhile treat.

Omelette Bánh Mì at The Baguette King, Rotherhithe

A rare Sunday off led us just south of the river to Rotherhithe, where we walked along the Thames in thick drizzle. Realising we were both hungry, we pulled up the Vittles Restaurants Google Map to find we were only 8 minutes from The Baguette King. We figured it was worth a punt.

When we ordered at the counter, we were told none of the kitchen equipment was working so there were only two options available; pork or omelette. Fine by us, we asked for two omelette bánh mì and Jack grabbed a table. When I was directed to the toilet, I was advised to use my phone as a torch because the light wasn’t working and the door lock was broken. All that aside, I’m happy to report our expectations were wildly over-exceeded when two baguettes loaded with herbs, pickles and hot-from-the-pan omelettes landed on our table. They were spicy, crunchy, crispy, buttery from the fried egg and honestly the best lunch we never expected on a rainy afternoon in Rotherhithe.

Malik Bouzid’s beef boureks, labneh & rose harissa and Julie Hetyei’s salt cod brandade at Joyau, Forest Gate

It might sound like a busman’s holiday to eat in your own restaurant but it’s a privilege.

And over the last couple of years, I’ve realised it’s necessary too. Because while you think you might have eyes on all the small details, you don’t. That’s not a prod at our team – they’re fantastic and always willing to go out of their way to give everyone a good time. It’s more the experience of actually eating in the bar. When the lights are dimmed and you’re actually eating a dish.

When Malik and Julie were doing their respective pop ups at the bar, we booked a table for dinner and ordered just about everything from their menus, savouring each mouthful and trying not to get distracted by what else was going on around us.

My favourite dish from Malik’s menu was the beef boureks, neatly wrapped with fragrantly spiced meat and fudgy labneh, served with a bleeding pool of rose harissa for extra lift and piquancy.

And Julie’s menu felt like a full-chested celebration of spring; pea custard tart with lovage oil; pickled artichoke salad with fennel, cedrat & hazelnuts; lamb with baby Spring greens, asparagus and broad bean. The salt cod brandade with crudités was the dish I’d order again and again.

Shish taouk at Sohalia, Shoreditch

Sohalia is bang on Shoreditch High Street, amid the churn of commuters, venture-capital funded coffee shops and a stone’s throw from British Land's redevelopment of Norton Folgate – which has just been announced as the site where chef Andrew Wong and Dishoom co-founder Amar Radia will open their Chinese public house Kong, later this year.

In short, this is a stretch of town where there’s a lot of comings and goings but against the transience of it all, Sohalia is a restaurant with its heart in the right place and its feet firmly on the ground. For one thing, it’s attached to the Fat Macy’s programme: a social enterprise that offers training and support to young Londoners living in temporary accommodation. It also serves truly delicious Middle Eastern food; everything from rhubarb ezme salad and mutabal to batata harra and chalk stream trout kibbeh nayeh.

When we went most recently though, it was the shish taouk that really stood out. The skewers arrived still hissing from the grill, the meat craggly and bronzed on the outside and still juicy within. Every morsel carried a warming, fragrant hum of cinnamon, oregano and garlic, and at £19, it felt generous. Whereas down the road, you wouldn’t get much change out of £20 for a novelty Matcha.

Tteokbokki with spicy vodka sauce at Ivresse, Marseille

We took Jack’s parents to Marseille in April to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary, and a milestone birthday. It was a joy to show them around a city that we’ve fallen in love with over the years, and see parts of it through their eyes.

Ivresse was top of our agenda, partly for the food, partly for the wine, but mostly to see our friend, Dan Wren who’s in charge of the kitchen. The menu was succinct so we ordered one of everything and the dish that we licked clean was the tteokbokki, draped in a silky, spice-spiked sauce.

We planted the seed that if Dan is ever in London, we’d love to have him cook at Joyau – watch this space! And if you’re planning a trip to Marseille, add Ivresse to your list.

Zatar Manoush at Edami Bakery, Dalston

Not every pastry needs to be laminated into oblivion or topped with six different things. Sometimes flour, dough and generous seasoning are enough.

I made a 20-minute detour to Edami Bakery on a blustery afternoon, when I was short on time but determined to try their zaatar manoushe.

Baked to order, the flatbread was a perfect combo of chewy and light, the edges ever so slightly blistered and crisp while the centre remained soft enough to fold into a brown paper bag. Topped with an even covering of zaatar and still hot to the touch, it released the smell of thyme, sesame and sumac as I hungrily tore off chunks while walking to the Overground.

Yum Pla Budu at Plaza Khao Gaeng, Covent Garden

“I don’t want this meal to end”, is what Jack said about halfway through our meal at the newly opened Plaza Khao Gaeng in Covent Garden.

And this about sums it up – it’s the third Plaza from the chef/founder Luke Farrell, but it shows no sign of standards slipping with scale. This isn’t just a photocopy of the other two. It hasn’t calcified into a pseudo-chain. It’s just a really good restaurant with a sure sense of personality and a no-holds-barred approach to spice.

The night we went, we were ravenous. Advised by our brilliant server Tukie, we started with the jungle herb fritters – salty, fragrant, satisfyingly deep-fried – and the Yum Pla Budu, which tasted like what I can only describe as a wild ride of texture, spice, pungent aromatics and fermented budu fish sauce, so rich it tipped towards sweetness. It had slivers of fried sea bream, shaved lemongrass and a dizzying amount of chilli and while we were drinking up the last drops of the salad dressing, Jack looked me in the eye and said “this is my happy place”.

And, if you want eating out to remain the pleasure that it is and support your favourite restaurants, I highly encourage you to sign this petition and share it with others to sign too.

Until next time, have a good one!

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The event was built around the question, “where are the women restauranteurs?” with a panel of three (non-chef) restaurant operators in London, including Jess Blackstone of Fink’s, Missy Flynn of Rita’s, and Samantha Lim of Elliot’s. Pani lead the panel and the day before the event, she shared the guest list and an inexhaustive index of women-owned hospitality businesses.

The event wasn’t exclusive to women, or people in the industry and the guest list of 50+ people, sprawled a range of skillsets including design, cooking, events, branding, marketing and art.

I arrived at the venue for the evening – the aptly Athenian, Fink’s at Clissold House – after walking through the park and admiring the lush green of the grass and the clean blue of the sky. There were people lying in the evening sunshine like a Georges Seurat painting and I felt there was nowhere else I’d want to be than in this particular patch of London.

Rather than giving my blow-by-blown account, here are the notes I jotted down feeling inspired on the No. 141 bus en route home. The questions below are open ended – we can ponder them together and better still, I’d love it if you shared your thoughts in the comments below – and there are some tangents:

Note: Reading these back, I’m kicking myself I couldn’t remember more of the panellists’ answers – but hey ho! I was in the moment and nodding along to their responses.

• Everyone feels imposter syndrome! But how do we over come it? At what point do we stop feeling like we’re faking it?

• I need to write more Google reviews for places I like (and places run by people I like) and have eaten at. We love reading feedback from anyone who comes to Joyau – particularly when it’s positive – and while Google (and specifically, Google Maps) shouldn’t dictate where we eat, the reviews can sway judgement. [Side note: if you want a tool that’ll show you “underrated gems”, see ’s London Food Map.]

• Keep asking yourself “who are we?” and “why are we here?”. Understanding the core purpose of a restaurant helps to maintain a level of consistency and quality.

• “Comparison and competition is a challenge” (paraphrased from Missy Flynn).

• Running a restaurant can feel lonely. Sometimes you’re landed with big, potentially life-altering decisions but in those particularly fraught or stressful moments, do things to remind yourself that you are more than a restauranteur (paraphrased from Sam).

• Pani is a world builder!

• I’d like to understand more about what women restauranteurs do in their downtime? Is it different to how their partners unwind from being on the floor/in the kitchen?

• I’ve written about what we eat when we’re not at the bar, but what do other restauranteurs eat to fuel and nourish themselves at work/at home? I’d love to dig into this more with .

• The piece of advice I’d give to myself before we opened the bar: stay curious, do not settle for anything less than the best and keep it simple. And! Start using a hard-working eye cream.

• Ask people (women) if they just want to meet up for a chat! Turns out, they will often say yes! Even people (women!) you’ve admired for ages!

• Focaccia pizza is an elite snack.

Enormous thanks to Pani, again for pulling together such a wonderful event. Here’s to more TGITE events and fulfilling conversations to come!

Until next time, have a good one!

We marked three years since we first opened Joyau and we celebrated my sister (and her now husband) getting married.

The wedding was all sorts of wonderful and I could easily wax lyrical about it for days. The abridged version however, is that it was four days full of friends, family, food and an iconic first dance. I now feel brimming over with love and slightly in need of a holiday.

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Back to reality and reflecting on the chunk of time Joyau has been open – 1,095 days to be precise – it feels at once like the blink of an eye and a small lifetime. Perhaps that’s the dichotomy between working hard and resting hard?

Who knows! What we are very sure of though, is that we’re beyond happy to still be open. You don’t need me to remind you that it’s tough out there for hospitality businesses right now – pubs are closing by the day, restaurants are doing what they can to encourage guests through the door, and all the while prices of everything are increasing everywhere.

Doom and gloom aside, consider this a small but gargantuan thank you to anyone who’s spent their precious time and money at the bar, this year, or really at any point since we opened our doors. None of it – the bacon sandwiches, the chef pop ups, the wines on tap, the tote bags – would be possible without you.

Now, and without further adieu, here’s everything we’ve learned from running the bar this year.

1. A cup of tea and a small biscuit at 4:26 has the power to turn anything around.

2. Margins are wafer thin and every single pound counts.

3. A NinjaCreami is basically a Pacojet and it makes extremely good, texturally dreamy ice cream.

4. It’s hard to work with your friends. It’s not impossible but it does add pressure to perform.

5. Planning a wedding while running a restaurant is a capital J, Juggle. But it’s also not impossible.

6. Pip Apple Juice may be the thing we sell the most of but it’s also what gets wasted the most. Those 180ml pouches are just a sip too many for little tummies.

7. You can replace bread in a recipe for taramasalata with hard-boiled eggs.

8. A shower after a dinner shift feels like a spa treatment.

9. You really do need to wear good shoes – and not Adidas Sambas – to be on your feet all day. Mary San Pablo convinced me that these (worn by nurses) are the best.

10. An account with Johnsons London Linen might feel excessive but by hell, it’s worth it.

11. The dishwasher will only drain if you hold the pipe at a horizontal angle and crouch while holding it, like you’re milking a cow.

12. A 1/9 pan can hold a whole bottle of wine.

13. Much as we might like to think otherwise, the P&L doesn’t lie.

14. Ras Al Hanout is a superior yet overlooked seasoning, thank you to for the enlightenment.

15. Speaking of Chloe, her green sauce is good on absolutely EVERYTHING.

16. The best staff meal often comes together from delving into the depths of the fridge and is a meal with more than one dish (one main and at least one side) and bread for Scarpetta.

17. A chicken sandwich will always sell. We’ve tried other filling combinations but nothing ever seems to trump a mayo-dressed chicken sandwich. Ditto for a bacon sandwich with Heinz ketchup.

18. It’s important, no matter how tired you are or how sore your feet feel, to resolve an argument before you go to bed.

19. The wine we sell the most of is our tap white wine – currently it’s a lovely Chenin from Nicolas Reau who’s based in Anjou – this year we’ve shifted 47 gallons of the stuff.

20. Julie Hetyei knows the best places to eat and drink in Marseille (her recommendations and a few others are in my Google map here).

21. Jack is the hardest working person I’ve ever met. He’s also a gifted napper.

22. Pop ups are fun and hugely rewarding but by golly, they’re hard work and not necessarily a money-making exercise.

23. Jemma Harrison makes the best gnocchi.

24. Having dinner in a restaurant that you helped to build doesn’t get boring.

25. Hosting a joint hen/stag for my sister and her now husband, was arguably the best night I’ve ever witnessed at the bar. But getting a second wind, drinking three spicy margaritas right before going to bed at 2:37am, is the most hungover I’ve ever been while working at the bar.

26. You absolutely must not open the oven while scones are cooking. Otherwise, you end up with scones as flat as pancakes.

27. Malik Bouzid taught us that there is a formula for creating a dish and it works every time without fail. The formula is also a secret.

28. Eleni’s least favourite job is refilling the blue roll, mine is taking the nozzles off the beer taps.

29. Jack’s doesn’t have a least favourite job.

30. Joyeta Ng’s dumplings are the most generously filled, juicy and well seasoned that I’ve ever eaten.

31. The best way to cook onions is with the lid on, sweating with butter and salt until the butter and the onion liquid emulsifies.

32. You can tatin practically any vegetable but aubergine is best. Thank you Alice Newman for showing us the way.

33. Getting to the bar at 7am to set up and prep might sound excessive but it’s the best way to back yourself. Plus it gives you enough time to sit down and have breakfast before the work really begins.

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Until next time, have a good one!

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My breakfast rotation nowadays, tends to skew away from sweet things. I like eggs (anyway, but especially scrambled), savoury yoghurt bowls with fennel seeds, sesame seeds, Nigella seeds scattered like a constellation across Greek yoghurt, seasoned with salt & pepper and a swirl of olive oil. I like salads with lots of herbs and a make-shift dressing using fish sauce and a squeeze of lime. got me onto soup for breakfast and ever since going to India last year, I have a penchant for tart, spicy chutney’s on toast or drizzled on flatbread.

But one sweet(ish) thing I will make an exception for is this granola. It’s the same one we serve (and sell in bags!) at Joyau and for me, it hits a happy tripartite of sweet, savoury and nutty in one fell swoop of a spoon. I tend to have mine with yoghurt and nothing else. I won’t be mad if some berries end up in there too but more often than not, I just want the crunch of the oaty clusters against the cool smooth of the tart yoghurt.

I’ve given this granola as a gift to friends and I’ve snacked on it late at night when we finish service. I’ve made huge trays of the stuff and measured it into bags and there’s something about the fennel-flecked shards of toasted almonds and pecans that makes me so happy. It’s the simple things!

Here’s the recipe, tweaked and refined by Eleni:

*This makes a big batch but you can store it in air-tight containers for a couple of weeks.

600g rolled oats

300g golden syrup

100g black treacle

200g sunflower seeds

300g pecans

150g flaked almonds

Zest of 3 oranges

10g fennel seeds

5g flake salt

Blitz fennel seeds quickly in spice grinder to break into small chunks but not to a powder.

Weigh all your dry ingredients, including the ground fennel and the orange, in a large bowl and mix well.

Warm the golden syrup and treacle in a pan until it *just* comes to a boil.

Mix your wet with the dry while it’s still hot and loose - mix well to cover all the oats/nuts evenly.

Spread a thin even layer to a lined oven tray and bake at 150C for 45 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes and sniffing the deliciously nutty smell as it fills your kitchen.

Once you remove it from the oven, do not touch it, to allow it to clump together.

After the granola has cooled completely, store in dry airtight containers.

Until next time, have a good one!

And as I write this, taxiing out of Marseille airport, I feel the pull of those strings pulling with an un-ignorable tug.

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We’ve just spent three nights away with Jack’s folks; walking, eating, avoiding the rain on day one, basking in endless blue skies on day two. And now, quite predictably, all I (we!) can think about is living in the South of France.

Being totally honest, I’ve been thinking about this pipe dream of an idea with particular intensity for the last month or so, asking myself what IF? WHAT iffffff?

And the if is big because it all sounds blissful – nothing but baguettes, Breton stripes and going braless. But from experience, I know the reality of moving abroad and creating a life in France is hard.

I really resonated with how described the friction that comes with living in France, reflecting on a year living in Sète:

Because France is anything but easy. It is an analogue state that seemingly revels in friction and confusion. Sometimes it can feel like suffering is an intrinsic part of life here, not malicious per se, but deeply embedded. And whilst I adjust to the constant need to carry cash, have documents printed, accept emails will go unanswered and there will be zero laurels on which I can rest, I wonder if there is something to this maddeningly way of life?

I felt the realities of all of friction first hand when I moved to Paris for university. I was 18 so I had the advantage of youth and an uninhibited approach to the adventure of it all, which allowed me to muddle through. I set up a French bank account not understanding a word of the paperwork, I went on flat viewings and hospital appointments and got a job and I did all of it with a let’s-just-see-how-this-goes attitude. Of course I got it wrong sometimes; broke into frustrated tears at the post office more than once, lived in a flat with no windows during a heatwave, had my phone stolen out of my pocket on the metro and I definitely encountered my fair share of shoulder shrugs from fonctionnaires who appeared to revel – but certainly not outwardly – in upholding all the rigidity of the French bureaucratic system.

But for all the frustration, tears and euros spent on printing translated copies of my birth certificate, there was the relief and satisfaction of completing grisly administrative tasks. Like when clouds part and you fell the warmth of the sun on your face after a stint of rain and impenetrable grey.

So I suppose that’s what I’m chasing; all the sun-drenched moments of a life in the South of France; strolling around the market and filling a basket with the best of the season’s haul; becoming regulars at a neighbourhood bistro; visiting wine makers in the back and beyond; exploring towns like Arles, Narbonne, Corbières, Martigues, Gordes; packing a picnic and spending hours on the beach; drinking stubby glasses of wine as the sun goes down, embracing the Provençal spirit of la belle vie.

Even as we walked around Marseille’s Vieux Port yesterday, I felt a familiar pang of longing for this life but not just the rose-tinted version of it; bureaucratic headaches and cultural hurdles to boot because I think we could do it!

Should we move to the South of France though? Maybe one day but it’s not on the cards right now. The near-future goal is to spend more time in France, for business and/or pleasure, whether it’s a couple of weekends or a week or two throughout the year. Basically enough time to keep those strings taut.

P.S. Here’s an updated version of my Google Map with a heap of spots in Marseille pinned for your perusing pleasure. Profitez!

Until next time, have a good one!

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I don’t think that was the case. I think it was down to the fact I wasn’t very good at the job but I sure as hell tried. I regularly worked until 11pm (sometimes later), I went to marketing workshops after work to learn more about A/B Testing and CTR and Lead Generation. But no matter how much I tried, I’d still end up leaving the office in the dark, catching the bus and listening to HAIM’s Summer Girl on repeat all the way home, tears in my eyes, ulcers forming on the tip of my tongue from lack of sleep and worry.

When I decided to resign, I felt nothing but sheer relief. I giddily handed in my notice with no back-up plan other than a desire to do something I knew I could do, and do well.

Which led me to restaurants. During my month’s notice period, I spent my lunch breaks posting my CV through the doors of restaurants around town. I went to places I’d heard about but never dined at and in one case, and without realising I put my CV directly into the hands of the restaurant’s owner, Daniel Morgenthau.

A few days later Daniel emailed me and offered me a trial shift. Much of that four-hour shift is a blur but I do remember wearing the wrong shoes and the loud clack of my heeled boots hitting the floor felt like an unwelcome distraction to diners in the low-lit, white-table clothed surrounds of the restaurant.

After my trial and on my last day in the office, Daniel gave me a call. He said that maybe a different restaurant would be a better fit and would I be interested in a full-time role at Clipstone. It felt like a lifeline and an incredible vote of confidence (or blind faith).

In the moment and with no other offers on the table, I cut Daniel off mid-sentence to say I was up for it. I could work in a restaurant with nothing but a 2-hour trial shift under my belt! I could muscle in with a team of hospitality pros! I could learn everything there was to know about wine and cooking techniques! And no bother that I lived the opposite side of London! Anything felt possible because I was leaving a job that had made me feel so diminished, and the opportunity to work in a restaurant felt like the kindling that would re-ignite my spirit.

Perhaps sensing my over eagerness, Daniel encouraged me to sleep on it. And I’m grateful he did because literally the next day, I was offered a big writing gig that involved a trip to Copenhagen. Juggling the pros and cons of the various jobs, I eventually called Daniel back and politely declined but thanked him for the offer, while promising myself to one day visit Clipstone and eat as a guest in the perfectly formed, corner dining room*.

Cut to, a couple of weeks after leaving my corporate job and highly aware that I still had to pay my rent, I picked up another trial shift, this time at Honey & Co, the Middle-Eastern restaurant run by Sarit Packer and Itamar Srulovich. I’d heard and read about Honey & Co but never eaten in the Warren Street restaurant but the name alone sounded so inviting. During my trial shift in the pint-sized restaurant, I made another rookie sartorial error by wearing a thick wool jumper. Needless to say that after two hours on my feet, running up and down the stairs to the basement kitchen, I deeply regretted my outfit choice.

I got the job at Honey & Co in November 2019 and immediately, I felt more at home in the rectangular-shaped restaurant than I had anywhere else in my short but intense career. I loved arriving at the restaurant in the dark at 7am and dialling in the coffee machine; I loved chatting to the regulars who came in for shakshuka every Friday morning; I loved eating the signature silky hummus out of a little bowl as a snack; I learning about and tasting the wines we served, from Lebanon to Wiltshire; I loved the candle-lit tables and the sense of occasion at dinner; I loved breaking up clumps of ashura cereal** and packing them into brown bags for the shelves at Honey & Spice; I loved being drafted in for extra shifts and feeling a sense of purpose from the hustle of a busy service; I loved being trained on the coffee machine and folding napkins and picking herbs. I loved using my hands and working with people who would make me double over laughing.

And then, just as I was beginning to find my footing again, Covid happened. I remember my last shift at Honey & Co so vividly; there was with a strange, humming uncertainty that rippled through the restaurant and the sense that something was coming but no one quite knew what. I remember clocking out as usual, saying goodbye to my colleagues as usual, going home as usual but I never went back because we all know what followed. I was put on furlough for two weeks, which I took as an unexpected bonus and then, understandably, I was let go.

Six years on, despite a global pandemic and the torrent of challenges restaurants are facing today, it’s not surprising to see Clipstone and Honey & Co are still thriving. This year marks Clipstone’s tenth anniversary, and they’re celebrating the milestone with a party in a couple of weeks, as well as a whole year of a monthly-rotating birthday menu priced at £20.16 for three courses.

Meanwhile the Honey & Co empire has expanded across three new sites. The latest addition is a wine bar, deli and dining room, taking over what used to be Honey & Smoke on Great Portland Street, which will open from the 13th April.

While the Warren Street restaurant where I worked no longer exists, Honey & Co moved to a bigger premise on Lamb’s Conduit Street – directly opposite Noble Rot, where Jack spent years working. Call it coincidence, put it down to entrepreneurial endeavour, but being the sentimental dummy that I am, I can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of knowing nod from the universe, as if our two paths were incrementally edging towards the same point of convergence.

And when I think back to that earlier version of myself – diminished, unsure, licking the wounds from a job that I just wasn’t cut out for – I can’t help but feel grateful. Grateful, even, for the shitty job that propelled me into a totally different career because without it, I might never have stepped onto the restaurant floor; muddling through those first few dizzying shifts with sweaty palms, learning the churn of service and eventually, become completely addicted to the mechanics of making a restaurant work.

My encounter with Clipstone, and the time I worked at Honey & Co, were so fleeting in the scheme of things. But what they did for my confidence and the trajectory of my career – and life! – was so lasting.

*And I did! I went with my grandparents for dinner after Jack suggested it during the first shift we worked together.

**You can find the recipe for Sarit’s ashura cereal in by Samin Nosrat.

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We’re officially in spring. Rejoice! There are daffodils sprouting from our pots in the garden, asparagus is on the menu at the bar and, as of last Sunday, it’s not getting dark until gone 7pm.

On with the HP!

Bites

A couple of weeks ago we had a Sunday off with no plans. We thought about going to Camberwell but being a little weary, a 3-hour round trip on the tube felt a bridge too far. Instead, we still went south but to Rotherhithe. We walked around Stave Hill Ecological Park before looping round the Thames Path towards Southwark Park. At a certain point we both started to feel ravenous so I pulled up the restaurants Google Map. It’s a trove of over 400 restaurants, spread across inner London and beyond that serves as an invaluable tool, particularly in moments when you might find yourself in a part of town you’re not familiar with, just as we were in SE16. Five minutes from where we stood at that moment was The Baguette King.

When we went to order, we were told none of the kitchen equipment was working so there were only two options available; pork or omelette. Fine by us, we asked for two omelette bánh mi and Jack grabbed a table. When I was directed to the toilet, I was advised to use my phone as a torch because the light wasn’t working and the door lock was broken. All that aside, I’m happy to report our expectations were wildly over-exceeded when two baguettes loaded with herbs, pickles and hot-from-the-pan omelettes landed on our table. They were spicy, crunchy, crispy, buttery from the fried egg and honestly the best lunch we never expected on a rainy afternoon in Rotherhithe.

Malik Bouzid’s riff on a Pissaladière changed my view of the pastry-based snack forever. Instead of the usually slender slice, his version was baked into a deep-dish, the sweet onions seasoned with earthy Ras al Hanout and topped with capers, anchovies and olives. If you can try his food for yourself, he’ll be cooking at Naughty Piglets until 11th April, with an even more extensive menu to the one he served at Joyau.

Other standout dishes I’ve eaten this month include the parmesan risotto at Osteria Vibrato – as restauranteur Charlie Mellor said, “it’s one of those dishes that give us nowhere to hide…”. The penny lick at Teal by Sally Abé for the pleasure of contorting my tongue around a dinky glass for every little bit of vanilla ice cream and the rhubarb ezme at Sohalia, which was all sorts of bright, tart and uplifting on a particularly grey Monday evening.

Moving & Shaking

I went down to the press preview of the Schiaparelli exhibition at the V&A last week and in a word, wow. It’s high-glamour, surreal and made me seriously reconsider what it is to get dressed.

Because for Ms Schiaparelli, fashion wasn’t about trends or following convention, or just practical warmth – it was about ideas.

Across more than 400 objects – fashion, art, accessories, an entire room of her jewellery creations and highly-intricate buttons, photography – the exhibition makes one thing clear: Schiaparelli challenged what clothes could be.

I popped by the London launch of Irish food & art magazine ’s third issue. Not only is it beautiful to look at – the cover features a painting by illustrator Laura Callaghan – it’s a treat to read, with writers sharing stories that highlight A Hunger for Home. I particularly enjoyed Eoghan Conway (aka ) describing the ubiquitous nature of Irish pubs and Kitty Coles finding home in the kitchen.

You’re in for a real treat – Julie Hetyei is coming to Joyau this April for one week only!

Julie’s cooking might look simple but what belies each of her dishes is an understanding of classic technique and an eye for the small details.

The kitchen will be serving dinner from 6pm, Wednesday to Saturday and lunch from 1pm-4pm on Saturday AND Sunday. Book a table!

Continuing in my audiobook jag, I’m currently listening to Fuschia Dunlop’s Invitation to a Banquet: The History of Chinese Food. It’s a fascinating and heavily detailed romp that explores the history, health benefits and techniques of China's centuries-old culinary culture.

This month I’ve also been, quite aptly, obsessed with author of Obsessed With The Best, Ella Quittner. I loved reading her Q&A in and I’ve now listened to her on several podcasts including Taste, Cherry Bombe & How Long Gone. I’ve pre-ordered the book and yes, I will be going to her Fink’s counter take over this weekend.

Vittles – What happens with a restaurant wins a Michelin Star with Joké Bakare

Beyond The Pass – Anna Tobias

The Food Programme – Posh Water

This Is TASTE 747 – Julia Moskin Broke the Noma Story, and Possibly Broke Noma

How Long Gone – Ruthie Rogers (particularly enjoyed hearing Ruthie describe, so casually, how she calls up Claridge’s to borrow a room)

Writing

A little clutch of bits I’ve written in the month or so for The Nudge – you can really tell we’re entering the second quarter of the year by the amount of new restaurants, new exhibitions and new shows there are coming down the track very soon. What a time to be alive!

Lady of The Grapes

Osteria Vibrato

Schiaparelli

Beauty & Destruction at the Imperial War Museum

The Prince Edward

Until next time, have a glorious long weekend!

There’s maybe an out-dated assumption that people who run bars/restaurants live in other restaurants or exclusively on cocktails, bar snacks and late-night takeaways. And while that’s not entirely untrue (in our case it’s late-night peanut butter toast), it’s also far from the full picture.

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When we’re not behind the bar at Joyau, what we choose to cook and eat needs to be quick and delicious. Because we’re not going to spend hours making a multi-component dish (with the exception of Jack’s lasagne) when our time off is precious and we want a change of scene from being in a kitchen or strapped to the sink.

While I know you didn’t ask for this, here’s a serving of the simple yet satisfying dishes we cook ourselves in semi-regular rotation.

Chicken Kiev – this dish is so beloved by us, it had had several shout outs during our wedding speeches. I think it’s best served with some form of potato (mash, homemade chips, boiled with lots of herbs) and some kind of green (wilted with garlic & EVOO in winter, crunchy leaves with mustard dressing in summer)

Noodles – any variety (egg, rice, flat, vermicelli) typically cooked in hot water before being plunged into a vegetable-dense broth or tossed into a stir fry. I like mine with lots of garlic and ginger while Jack loads up his bowl with any brand of chilli oil.

Dhal – admittedly mine is not a traditional dhal. It’s different every time but the best versions, I think, feature generous amounts of ginger and turmeric as well as curry powder (I like this one), chilli, ground coriander, ground cumin and a sprinkling of fennel seeds.

Throw together salads – I’m longing for these at the moment. These are the result of scavenges through the fridge, which I take more pleasure in than I probably should. The best combos include blousy leaves, something crunchy and fresh, a toasted nut or seed, some type of cheese (hard or soft) and lots of herbs.

Fish pie – this is a JL signature that riffs on Jamie Oliver’s recipe. While I was dubious about the addition of carrots, it works!

Scrambled eggs – to me there is nothing better than straight-from-the-pan, buttery (sometimes chive-flecked) scrambled eggs. It’s the first dish Jack ever cooked for me, which we ate on his sofa while watching rhythmic gymnastics at the Tokyo Olympics, slightly hungover from the Pidgin staff party. It’s a healing meal that tastes especially delicious after a 14-hour shift.

Ben Lippet’s chicken meatballs – I make a double batch of these balls and put them in the freezer. We tend to have them with rice and some genre of leafy green but we’ve also had them baked in a tomato sauce and bobbing around in a bowl of broth.

Project dishes – every now and again we’ll stray from our regular programming and put our minds to a dish that requires a little more effort. Like something that requires more than one pan or involves a couple of components or sourcing of a particular ingredient. Recent pursuits of that flavour have included lasagne, Oded Oren’s pork chop with confit garlic, Rosie Kellet’s shrimp & scallion pancakes, and Alex Jackson’s panna cotta, which we had to make off-site in preparation for Sunday lunch at the bar.

So no, we don’t just live on Marcona almonds and martinis. What we eat when we’re not at the bar is less about fuss and strictly following a recipe and more about the sheer pleasure of making something simple from scratch.

Until next time, have a good one!

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It starts somewhere around Kingsland Road and winds its way up to Stoke Newington.

Before you ask, no I didn’t make the full mile (few do). But I did tick off enough spots (three) to learn this: if you’re going to attempt it, pace yourself. Or at least schedule your chicken shish at Umut 2000 before things get blurry.

My abbreviated route started at CINCO – below Corrochio’s – where the bar manager Eduardo whipped us up an off-menu concoction each, with some generous pours of mezcal, naturally. Feeling safe in Eduardo’s hands – even if one compromised and bandaged up after a run in with a kitchen knife – he delivered our first drinks of the night. Mine; Mezcal based, laced with a homemade pear and basil syrup, pandana (used like sugar syrup) and St Germain.

My tipple was balanced, herbaceous and had that signature smoky note lingering in the background without overpowering the harmony of the other flavours. My drinking partner plucked for the El Rey, using Banhez ensemble Mezcal, Alma Finca orange liquor for bite, vermouth, al pastor mango shrub topped to the brim with mango & blood orange soda. It tasted like sunshine; slightly honeyed from the mango but light on its feet with acidity.

Our whistles whetted, we walked the 0.5 miles up Stoke Newington High Street to Doña.

You can’t miss the doorway – it’s dressed in a pink awning that looks like Marie Antoinette’s wig, all voluminous and pouf-ed. Follow the stairs down and you enter a room that’s truly ravishing. There’s billowy pink curtain swags, beautiful frills of flamingo-pink feathers, heavily-petalled roses, tasseled lampshades and warm lighting.

Doña is run by Thea Cumming & Lucie Massey, both of whom have impressive mezcal-soaked CVs under their respective belts. Collectively they’re responsible for launching London Mezcal Week, Dangerous Don mezcal, and pop up supperclubs Slap Ya Pappa & Cuppa Gumbo.

A quick glance down the menu, a swift hedging of our bets and we ordered four cocktails between us because we couldn’t make up our minds. On the night we visited, these included Margaret; aka the self-proclaimed best margarita in town made with Doña’s special blend of tequila and mezcal, adorned with a salty rim; Rebecca; a punchy, amber-hued mezcal negroni; Juanita; made with Dangerous Don mezcal, top with a fragrant fig leaf soda and the Bia Paloma that combined mezcal, lime and grapefruit soda and was refreshingly zingy as it sounds.

All four drinks were knock-out. Balanced, generous and each with that pleasantly singed undertone from the mezcal. My stand-out favourite was the Bia Paloma, which I would happily cross town for.

Glasses drained, we went back on ourselves slightly to Sorbito – you could argue it was a planning mishap having to retrace our steps but I was certainly grateful for a bit more fresh air after drinking 1.5 heavily spirited cocktails in a subterranean bar.

While the previous two bars were great and had all the trappings of late-night Dalston drinking dens with killer cocktails, Sorbito felt like a gear shift into something slightly more cerebral.

The bar and shop, opened by Jon Darby, is both new and well established. Jon even lays claim to being the catalyst for the mezcal mile as he started doing tastings in this same patch of east London back in 2017 as part of his project, Sin Gusano.

Meaning ‘without worm’, Sin Gusano is a social enterprise on a mission to bring artisanal mezcal to London and beyond. Through the project, Jon has spent nearly a decade immersed in Mexico’s mezcal culture, building close relationships with small producers and importing tiny, one-of-a-kind batches of the spirit. Now, at Sorbito – a sleek tasting room and bottle shop – he’s created a space that celebrates mezcal as it’s meant to be enjoyed: slowly, thoughtfully, and rather than downing it in one shot as the last drink of the night.

At Sorbito, we settled at a round table and following Jon’s recommendation, we ordered an ice-cold beer. Here, the mezcal bottles are encased within Enomatic machines usually reserved for high-end wine; to release the mezcal, you load up a tasting card and then you choose from over a dozen rare agave spirits – including Sin Gusano’s own micro-batches – in 10ml “sorbito” (meaning ‘little sip’ in Spanish) pours. For around £30, you can taste around ten different mezcals, from smoky Espadín to wild Tobala, all while soaking up the warm, softly-lit surrounds.

As well as tasting your way around Mexico, Sorbito doubles as a bottle shop, where every label comes with a QR code linking to photos and stories from the tiny mezcal palenques where each batch was made. It’s a window into the world Jon fell in love with on his first trip to Oaxaca – one rooted to tradition and shaped by community. As part of Dalston’s growing “Mezcal Mile”, Sorbito isn’t just another bar; it’s a deep dive into the spirit of Mexico, one little sip at a time.

Sufficiently hydrated and more educated on the magic of mezcal, we stumbled 10 minutes down the road to Umut 2000 for a fortifying spread of Turkish shish and salads to sponge up all the mezcal from our brief stint on the mile.

If you want to attempt the mezcal mile yourself, here’s a clutch of bars to make a beeline for:

• CINCO | 76 Stoke Newington Road, N16 7XB

• Doña | 92 Stoke Newington High Street, N16 7NY

• Sorbito | 178 Stoke Newington Road, N16 7UY

• Hacha | 378 Kingsland Road, E8 4AA

• The Marquee Moon | 48 Stoke Newington Road, N16 7XJ

• Callooh Callay | 65 Rivington Street, EC2A 3QQ

Until next time, have a good one!

I used to eat meat without a second thought. I grew up on ham sandwiches, bangers and mash with lashings of Heinz ketchup; spaghetti bolognese was a staple, bacon sandwiches were for weary heads and roast chicken was an almost weekly occurrence. From a young age, I understood that steak was a treat and I longed for the day when I would buy and cook one for myself. I ate lasagne, Cornish pasties, pepperoni on pizza; I’d finish a plate of Shepherd’s pie with Daddies Sauce and with enough red current jelly and creamed leeks, I would see off a serving of roast lamb.

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But at school I didn’t understand how meat could be sliced so wafer thin. Becoming more aware of food and my enjoyment of it all, I questioned why the gravy wobbled; I couldn’t get my head (or my jaw) around the chewiness of the Lancashire hot pot. And what the fuck was up with turkey Twizzlers? My aversions amplified – not because of any other influence than my own shifting tastes – to the point where, I’d choose a vegetarian option; overcooked pasta baked into a brick, vegetarian sausages that’d make Linda McCartney shudder. It wasn’t exactly an upgrade but to my mind it was an improvement to the greige pallor and questionable texture of any meat product coming out of a kitchen that, to give it credit, was feeding 180 toe-rags three square meals a day.

As childhood rolled into adolescence I moved school and sat tight through the turbulence of becoming a teenager; heartbreak, dodgy bras, bad skin, boarding school and all. It might’ve felt rocky at the time but with hindsight – and you’d have to ask my parents for an honest take – it was actually relatively plain sailing.

But there was one bump in the road; one that made me veer off course and into a completely different lane on the Motorway of life.

When I was 15 I looked through the viewfinder of a camera with my left eye, assuming I’d be able to see. I couldn’t. Instead, I saw a washy watercolour version of the greens and blues that I was expecting to see in sharp focus through a DLR lens.

This was my first encounter with something called Uevitis. Although it wasn’t known to me as that then. For a while, I kept it quiet. Figuring and hoping that it’d go away of its own accord. But every now and then, I’d blink my right eye – my good eye – and the world would appear swimmy and obscured.

It wasn’t until a few months later – coincidentally the day before my 16th birthday –that I raised my wavy vision with my parents. They booked me an eye test and thinking nothing of it, I went through the motions of reading the letters from the illuminated sign. A, O, E, H, L, P.

The optometrist spoke quietly and as she leaned into take a closer look at my eyes, I could smell her breath; coffee and malt biscuits. Her conclusion? You need to go to hospital immediately. I remember her saying she’d never seen anything like it, which gave me a fleeting yet crushing feeling of being special. I could sense my mother squirming on the inside at the uncertainty of it all.

The actual appointment where I was diagnosed with ‘uveitis’ is a blur. What I do remember is being prescribed a hefty dose of steroids – to bring down the aggressive inflammation in the back of my eye – and being told to take a week off school. That was just the start.

From that point, I spent the next four years doing regular visits to the John Radcliffe in Oxford and then later, to St Thomas’ in Westminster. My mum and I spent hours in hospital waiting rooms; waiting for CT scans, blood tests, visual field tests before eventually seeing a doctor. I will only ever have respect and huge admiration for anyone who works within the NHS. The waiting is long but it’s the smallest hardship when you’re receiving the care and kindness of professionals who deserve to paid significantly more.

During this time, when it still felt obscure and the big questions were “how?” and “why?” (spoiler: to this day, I still don’t know), I never felt unsafe or under any threat. But even just subconsciously, I felt wildly out of control.

To counteract this, I took it upon myself – incrementally at first and then to the extreme – to be the healthiest version of myself that I could possibly be. Which in my 21-year-old brain meant eating solely vegetables, cutting out carbs and dairy completely, omitting all meat and not even making eye contact with a food product that had a red label.

You probably know where this is heading so I’ll save you the granular detail. I basically landed in the tight grip of an eating disorder. One that crept up on me and then kept me in its clutch for the majority of my twenties. The lows were low and I felt the brunt of those in Paris, where I was living for university. But even when I felt my smallest and most depleted I never wanted to leave the city. It was home and I could be someone else; a French version of myself that walked around Paris like a flâneur. And the ironic thing was that while walking between the arrondissements – greedy to explore as much of the city as I could – I would constantly think about food. Because it was all there! Laid out in front of me in the patisseries, the traiteurs, the boucheries, the markets! The fromageries, the boulangeries, the cafés, the crêperies, the brasseries. It was all there, ready for the taking. But my overriding thought was that I didn’t deserve it.

On the eye front, it had to get worse to get better. I had eye surgery (to replace a lens in my right eye, my good eye, because the uveitis had spread) while I was studying for my finals and I took the opportunity to go home, recover and have long, tearful but healing conversations with my mum. She was my rock, therapist and cheerleader and I kick myself that I ever put her – and other family and friends – through so much worry.

Just as incrementally as my appetite disappeared, it came back again. It took time – lots of tears, acupuncture, a session with a hypnotherapist, working in restaurants, eating as part of my profession and meeting Jack – but I gradually fell back in love with food.

And today, my eyes are still a work in progress – just this morning I went for a blood test to monitor a new drug I’ve been prescribed – but I eat meat, again, now. I’m not quite a full-blown carnivore – and offal is something I need to work up to – but I love a blushing-in-the-middle pork chop and a bacon sandwich is a perk of doing the Saturday morning shift at Joyau; I tried sweetbreads for the first time this January – because how could I say no when Alice Newman has cooked them? – and I experienced something of a light-bulb moment over a Merguez sausage last month at Leila’s Shop.

I eat meat like I used to; without a second thought. But with an understanding of where it comes from and how it’s cared for. I just wish I could tell my 21-year-old self that a bacon sandwich won’t just help to heal a weary head, it’ll feed your soul.

Until next time, have a good one!

Hence the hodge podge.

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I do have an on-going, very scrappy list of ideas for this weekly ‘missive’ and there are still topics in the pipeline that I’ve yet to fully commit to. I want to write about scones! The ideal way to store and serve butter for optimum spreadability! The shoes to wear for a sixteen-hour shift on your feet! I have more to say about staff food, I have a bunch of thoughts about booking systems and don’t even get me started on anything in the vein of tableware because I won’t be able to stop.

Tangent aside, for now, here’s another scatological snapshot from the last few weeks, enjoy!

Bites

It’s been a month of good eats I have to say. Starting with Speedboat Bar to celebrate Ian Smith’s birthday. Everything we ordered was delicious, suitably knock-your-socks-off on the spice front – as it shout be! – and at £37 a head for six of us, it felt like a very good value dinner by central London standards.

The Lavery in South Ken is the embodiment of sophistication without any whiff of stuffiness. The interiors are a pleasing balance of new and old, the team is a well oiled machine with chef Yohei Furuhashi (River Café, Toklas) and Alcides Gauto (another Toklas alumni, and he worked at Rochelle Canteen for 8 years) keeping everything in check.

Since going to review Bambi last Thursday, Jack and I can’t stop talking about it. The food was good (namely the generously seasoned chicken skewers), the service was immaculate, the vibes were vibing, I Shazam-ed five songs. But vibes aside, there was just something about it that didn’t quite land. And I can’t put my finger on exactly what? Maybe it’s the high-shine smoothness? Or the East London of it all? Maybe it’s just me!

If you’re just swooping in for a drink, a couple of bites and to soak up the vibes, it's entirely possible you’ll have a great time. And perhaps that’s what it’s all about? The vibes, the soft lighting, the vintage sound system, the record selection, the considered design, and the natural wine.

An idyllic Sunday afternoon spent eating Chubby Dumpling dumplings in full-beam February sunshine in Victoria Park.

Jenny Phung and James ‘Shep’ Shepherd have popped up with their roaming Cantonese ktichen, Ling Ling’s across London – from Papi to The Plimsoll to The Gun and several other spots in between. And now, Ling Ling’s is nearing the mid point of a year-long residency at wine pub, Godet. I went last night for dinner and I’m already plotting when I can go back. The crispy-skinned, spring-onion & ginger sea bass was impressive as was the hispi cabbage. Prolific as it is on menus at the moment, it was unlike any other cabbage I’ve eaten before – umami rich with charred edges and she even went to the trouble of making a gluten-free sauce on the spot!

Moving and shaking

At the very start of February, I was invited to celebrate the the launch of In Service 03 at The Emory with . You can read the full edition here as a PDF and I highly encourage that you do; it’s a feast of nourishing and enlightening takes on the power and state of taste. Shout out to Pani (aka ) and the GB&Co editorial team for cooking up such a treat!

We’re fizzing with excitement to have our first pop up of the year with chef Malik Bouzid. He’ll be cooking an à la carte menu from 11th - 21st March, serving dinner from 6pm Wednesday to Saturday and lunch from 1pm-3:30pm on Saturday.

Not food or wine or the bar but I went to a preview of the Tracey Emin: A Second Life at Tate Modern yesterday morning. It’s her largest retrospective to date (including over 100 works) and, in true Emin style, it’s viscerally vulnerable. All the works – paintings, neons, bronzes, videos - are spread across rooms painted inky blue. There’s one room showing a video titled How It Feels (1996) where a bob-cut, fresh-faced Emin gives a challenging yet empowering account of an abortion that went wrong. There are graphic photos showing the stoma she now lives with and a video of her smiling while jumping through waves in Margate. I listened to Harry Weller, Creative Director at Tracey Emin studio describe what this retrospective means to Tracey: “This show feels transcendent; it’s about life and living it to the fullest. It’s about rejuvenation.”

My podcast diet is out of control. As soon as an episode of whatever pop-culture/food-centric/fashion-leaning/political-analysis chat lands, I gobble it whole. To balance out my aural binges, I’ve been listening to A Waiter In Paris by Edward Chisolm. It’s set in 2011 but reads like George Orwell’s Down and Out In Paris and London. I’m only four chapters in but I’m enjoying being transported to the underbelly of a dysfunctional brasserie instead of listening to yet another review of “Wuthering Heights”.

All that said, this month I enjoyed listening to:

David Carter on The Go To Food podcast (although, when oh when are those chaps going to interview a woman?!)

Not a podcast but the Pears for Lunch playlist via Lou and

Rav Gill on the Vittles podcast

Writing

And lastly, here’s a handful of articles I’ve written in the last month or so in my day job at The Nudge:

Set menus are having a moment – Where to eat out for 30 quid

The Good Front Room – Chef Dom Taylor brings his much-loved Caribbean cooking to Dalston

Ramen Moto – Resoundingly good ramen in Fitzrovia

Teal by Sally Abé – The Michelin-star chef is opening her first solo restaurant in Hackney

Tiella Trattoria & Bar – Dara Klein’s Italian kitchen has East London heart

Until next time, have a good one!

It includes a clutch of chefs who cook their hearts out for a living – whether in their own kitchens, under their own concepts or at restaurants that are rising through the ranks – and so when they go out to eat, it’s not something they do by halves. Their recommendations cover several London boroughs; some places you might’ve already heard of and some may surprise you.

And! There’s a couple of bonus entries at the end from two chefs who are very close to my heart. Enjoy!

I’m not a chef. Far from it.

But I know and have worked with a brigade’s worth of jobbing, hungry chefs who will never turn their nose up at a solidly good meal.

And I’m not talking haut cuisine or seven-course set menus. So often, it seems that after working 70+ hours a week, all a chef wants to eat – and craves – is something relatively simple, reliably delicious in a restaurant that has personality and doesn’t make a song and dance about how many dishes you should order per person.

I’m not a chef but I have cooked for chefs. Initially, I found it frankly terrifying. I’d boil pasta feeling as though the chef who’s work space I was stepping into was critiquing my technique; I’d chop an onion knowing I was doing it all wrong and being judged for it; I’d peel potatoes working as fast as I could while anticipating the peeler to be snatched from my hand because I was too slow.

At this point, I’ve made staff meal at Joyau more times than any chef, a) because I feel passionately that a happy team is a well-fed team and b) because I’ve learned that cooking for chefs doesn’t need to be a gastronomic feat of creativity and pretty plating. It just needs to be a bowl or a plate of food that’s been made with care.

Staffies aside, where do chefs eat when they eventually get time away from the stoves? We asked a handful of London’s most exciting chefs for their recommendations; some you may have already heard of, some of so good they’re included twice, some you have to venture beyond Zone 2 to find and some might surprise you. All of them however, come with a chef’s stamp of approval.

Joyeta Ng

Growing up in Hong Kong, Joyeta Ng has always had a sixth sense for good food. She trained as a chef in Japan and honed her craft during a seven-year stint at Tokyo’s two-Michelin-starred Den, followed by working at the Chairman in Hong Kong and Noma’s groundbreaking Kyoto pop-ups in 2023 and 2024. While most of her experience as a chef is in fine-dining restaurants, Joyeta’s style of cooking is, in her own words, “how a Chinese mother would cook for her nearest and dearest”. She’s currently heading up the kitchen at Poon’s Somerset House.

40 Maltby Street
This restaurant never disappoints. I love any of their fritters. Or if they have a tart/quiche/pie/anything with pastry on the menu I’ll always order it, because I’m then always rewarded with mouthfuls of satisfaction.

Planque
As someone who grew up eating rice, I love what Sebastian Myers does with his rice dishes – risotto-y but with crispy bits mixed in throughout. So far I have only tried their lobster rice and cockle rice – I still need to try their latest crab rice!

The Macbeth
This is a spot I only discovered recently and have already been twice within a month… I go when I crave hot chips and it’s also conveniently close to my house. Their chips look more like roasted potatoes but they’re deep fried and served with aioli. They also do delicious bifana and mini burgers and cheese borek. It’s great for a quick meal or a light bite.

Robin’s Ramen
Now that it’s getting cold I crave soupy things. Robin’s Ramen in Nottinghill does one of the best bowls I’ve had in London – it’s at the back of Supermarket of Dreams and the ramen uses very dreamy premium produce and it’s just executed really well.

Uncle Wrinkle
A Chinese spot that I wish I could inherit – it’s inspired me to open an Auntie Wrinkle one day. A mom and pop place and I love anything deep fried they make (prawn toast, spring roll, aubergine). It’s a Chinese takeaway menu but the couple (Mr and Mrs Wrinkle?) who run it are so lovely that it feels like you are eating in their home. They also have a mini ceramics gallery at the back of the restaurant, which is well worth checking out.

Zane Metcalf Cuenca (aka mopkitchen)

Currently whipping up a storm – and winning a spot on the Michelin Guide – Zane works as the Sous Chef at Don’t Tell Dad. He’s previously worked at The Camberwell Arms and Bubala and also has a side hustle cooking highly-kitsch dishes, inspired by the food trends of the 1970s adapted to the modern pallet. Think Abigail’s Party but with far better hosts than Beverley and zhuzhed-up devilled eggs.

Ramen Moto
⁠Ramen is my comfort food and ramen moto is the best I’ve had in London, but I also love Tokoton ramen in elephant and castle – it’s very classic and run by a bunch of lovely Japanese guys.

Bouchon Racine
You can just never go wrong here.

Lao Dao
The lamb skewers are divine.

Cafe Déco
A restaurant I can’t speak more highly of.

Speedboat Bar
If I’ve finished early on a Sunday and need somewhere to eat, my go-to spot is Speedboat Bar – it’s always delicious and has a great atmosphere.

Helen Graham

Giving vegetables main character energy is Helen’s raison d’être in the kitchen. After stints working at The Barbary and in Yotam Ottolenghi’s test kitchen, she joined forces with Marc Summers and set about creating a restaurant that made vegetables the star of each dish.

After a run of sold-out supper clubs, Marc found a permanent site for Bubala in Spitalfields with Helen taking the helm as head chef. Five years after opening, Helen stepped down in 2023 to pursue solo projects and now has a slew of kitchen takeovers and a soon-to-be-released cookbook under her belt.

40 Maltby Street
It’s one of the only places in London where you aren’t hurried out the door after 1.5 hours. Also, Steve’s cooking is some of the best in London and always makes me excited and inspired.

Mangal 1
My go-to and probably my most frequently visited restaurant ever. It’s cheap, absolutely delicious and it always has a great vibe.

Hanimeli
A lovely Turkish meze spot, I go for breakfast and get the whole spread.

Miga
Korean food with French style execution. It’s family run, the dad is the chef and the love and pride amongst the team really shines through. I always leave with such a full heart

Towpath
Canal side dining, rustic and ingredient-led. Very unique, very London.

Eric Wan

From finance, to Heston Blumenthal’s kitchen, to creating his own concept, Lá Lốt, to finding a permanent kitchen at the recently opened Tempo in Bethnal Green; Eric does not sit still and his Southern Vietnamese cooking carries the same energy.

His food dives into the vibrant, eclectic energy of the Chợ Lớn district, where streets are punctuated with food carts and the air is filled with smells of sizzling grilled meats, steaming dim sum and freshly brewed Robusta coffee.

Dim Sum Duck
The order is: beancurd skin prawn cheung fun, prawn & chive dumplings, and turnip cake. It’s always busy – so go early or prepare to wait – and always brilliant.

Udaya Kerala
Make sure to try the egg appam, mutton rolls, beef roast, and chicken biryani. But really whatever you order, it’s practically guaranteed to be packed with flavour and be so comforting.

Scenery Coffee
A house filter and one of their homemade brioche rolls (the fillings change weekly) and are always spot-on.

Naughty Piglets
Mostly for the jambon beurre with copious amounts of salted French butter. It’s simple and perfect.

Jemma Harrison

Jemma grew up spending weekends at her dad’s in Suffolk, where living next to a working farm piqued her curiosity about the land and its produce. That love of local fare, combined with a passion for the origins of historical recipes and the traditions of her Jewish heritage – especially Friday night meals – is the key component in her abundant cooking style. Well before pop ups were a thing, Jemma was working in some of London’s top restaurants, including Koya, Camille, and Westerns Laundry. She has a passion for regional Italian cookery, which she couples with her Jewish roots. Think potato latkes, chicken schnitzel, nostalgic desserts and an emphasis on super seasonal produce.

Jemma and her Kaunter concept recently wrapped up a four-month residency at Giacco’s. Whatever she gets up to next, it’s going to be good.

Linglings
When I do get the chance to eat out, I love to try something new and I love to go along to other chefs doing their own residencies. I recently went to Jenny is doing amazing things. She is extremely talented. Get the chicken broth.

Koya Soho
Is my absolute go to, particularly if I’m dining solo. I sit at the bar and slurp udon and munch tempura. It feels like a home away from home.

Babaan’s Naan
For a cheap eat, you can’t go wrong with their generously stuffed falafel wrap. I’ve probably had one every week since my residency at Giaccos!

Le Relais de Venise
That sauce. The chips. The double helping. The mustard dressing on the walnut salad and dessert platter. It’s all so reliably delicious and the space has a sense of occasion.

Maison François
Speaking of dessert platters, I’m a big fan of Maison Francois. The desserts especially are always executed beautifully and the dining room is really special too.

Wildflowers
A restaurant that has to get a mention. Aaron Potter really knows how to cook beautifully simple food with a punch of flavour and texture using fantastic ingredients – it’s like being transported to a chi-chi beach club without the extortionate prices.

Ramen Moto
I often have a ramen itch to scratch and this is the spot. Trust me, you won’t regret it. Their broths are authentic and delicious.

Jack Lawrence & Eleni Thoma

Jack and Eleni are the joint force behind the food offering at Joyau, which covers breakfast, lunch and dinner and our Sunday prix fixe menu.

Jack’s experience in professional kitchens began with a short stint at The River Cafe and then at Kensington Place (RIP) under Rowley Leigh, before pivoting to FOH and becoming a sommelier.

In my head, Eleni has lived seven lives. She’s worked all over London at Ombra, Towpath, Padella, Honey & Co, Potter & Reid as well as running her own catering business between the various lockdowns of 2020. She’s also a trained nutritionist and a horticulturist. In short, there is nothing she can’t do!

Between them (with a bit of background support from yours truly), they are the brains behind the menu and the care in every dish we serve at the bar.

Jack

Vasantha Vilas
You’ve got to start with pani puri – it’s the ideal, crunchy, coridander-y bite. A dosa for the table as they’re quite big; the saag palaak which is equal parts health (from all the spinach) and indulgence (from all the ghee), a roti and a few rounds of chai.

Noble Rot Lambs Conduit
The bread and butter at Noble Rot is unrivalled – three different types with generously salted butter. With that as your jumping off point, you can really land anywhere on the menu and know that you’ll be pleased with whatever is presented to you. Don’t leave without ordering the baked-to-order madeleines – see also: St John –they’re so perfectly buttery and nostalgic.

Oyster Shack & Seafood Bar
If you have a car – or any means of getting yourself to the inner reaches of Epping Forest – and a free afternoon (between Thursday-Sunday), go for a walk and a seafood-laden lunch at the Oyster Shack. On the surface, it’s very much a shack. But it’s belied by the fact that’s it’s a slick operation with impeccable service.

You’ll probably have to queue but let me tell you, it’s worth it for that first bite of the scallop and bacon bun. The mango chutney prawns are also delicious as are the oysters.

Brawn
A restaurant that never seems to miss. We celebrated our official marriage here last August, with a meal of rabbit rillettes, roast chicken and baked nectarines. For most of the afternoon, we were the only ones in the restaurant, lapping up the sunshine and drinking Champagne. It was a perfect long lunch I hope to repeat often.

The Eagle Farringdon
Order a Guinness, scrounge for a seat and pick anything of the menu. The food is rustic, hearty and not trying to be anything else.

M&S
More of a bad habit than anything else, but I have a weakness for a prawn sandwich and find it almost impossible to walk past any M&S without grabbing one of their Best Ever Prawn sandwiches and a packet of crisps, obviously.

Eleni

Polentina
Hard to find restaurant/canteen inside a clothing manufacturing workshop in Bow! Polentina is functionally a workers canteen and feeds the employees working in the garment factory, before it opens to the public for lunch and dinner. This reminds me so much of working in Rome, when we would feed the dipendente (employees) before opening the doors to the customers. After they had all left and we were all cleaned down, then we would eat. It is so important to have a nourishing meal during the work day, especially when you’re working with your body and your hands, it is also a really key time to catch up with your friends or your colleagues, and I love that Polentina gives the employees of the factory a space and time to do this.

The food is also beautiful, uncompromising super regional Italian cooking that isn’t afraid to showcase lesser known cuts and ingredients.

The Eagle Farringdon
I bought the Eagle’s cookbook for an obscene amount of money before I even visited the pub to eat. Knowing that so many incredible chefs have cooked in the kitchen and gone on to set up their own restaurants, it has become somewhat of a chefs place to eat! It’s noisy, you can’t book for under five people, you have to wrestle your way to the bar, and be prepared to share a table with other people, knocking elbows as you eat, but it is well worth it, always delicious, fun and comforting for the soul. The kitchen is layout is open, and you are encouraged to ask questions about the food rather than google what you don’t recognise! They are famous for their steak sandwich, but I’ll always choose whatever dish they have with a bean or a pulse, this is where they really excel! It is also great for solo dining, my favourite meal I’ve had was a whole bream with Cyprus potatoes swimming in all the cooking juices, lemon and oregano.

HT Harris Delicatessen
This is a favourite of mine from when I used to study in town. There is no menu, they have a counter for you to choose from and make your own sandwich, and usually two to three pasta dishes on each day. I’ve only ever seen the owner working there alone, pulling espresso’s, making and toasting sandwiches, serving and cleaning tables, all by himself! My favourite is a toasted chicken escalope ciabatta with mozzarella, basil and tomato, crispy, cheesy and comforting to the max!

Neco Tantuni
This place has recently been discovered by those outside of Enfield and had its moment online (Jonathun Nunn, Guardian), but it’s been a steady favourite of ours since we moved to Enfield many moons ago! The lavash is what really makes this tantuni stand out - I’m told its freshly made every hour! If you take it away to eat, they bundle it up with a few lemon wedges, pots of pickles, yoghurt and rich tomato sauce. My Turkish friends instruct me to squeeze a little lemon on to the tantuni before every bite! If you eat it in, try the yoğurtlu tantuni, which is sliced and topped with yoghurt and brown butter. The lamb is my favourite.

Artusi
There aren’t many places I’d travel from Enfield to the depths of Peckham for, but Artusi has a warm place in my heart! A true neighbourhood restaurant focused on Italian-inspired cooking and wine. No fads or trends, just solid cookery using beautiful ingredients.

Until next time, have a good one!