The Strasbourg Dancing Plague (1518). The Hammersmith Ghost Hysteria (1803). The Tanganyika Laughter Epidemic (1962). The Opening of Impala (2026).
All of these are examples of mass hysteria.
To say that there's been a fervour around the opening of Impala on Dean Street in Soho is an understatement.
Grace Dent described it as "like no restaurant I’ve ever been to”, the Evening Standard called it “a brand new type of restaurant in a copycat world” and Hot Dinners exclaimed “there's nothing remotely like it in London”.
If these kinds of proclamations have you conjuring surreal images of inhaling a gaseous meal from the backside of a giant inflatable impala or sitting on the tables whilst eating off the chairs, then you’re going to be sorely disappointed.
Because I can confirm that Impala cooks food in a kitchen, which you order off a menu and eat in a dining room.
Inevitably, my curiosity about Impala was piqued by all these rave reviews. So, I can most certainly see the irony in also being swept along by the hype.
The man behind Impala is Meedu Saad, the classically-trained former head chef of Kiln. With Egyptian heritage and having grown up around the Cypriot kebab houses of North London, Meedu has distilled his life experiences into the restaurant’s menu.
Impala is backed by Super8, the team behind the hip, buzzy London restaurants Brat, Smoking Goat, Kiln and Mountain. Combined with the rave reviews, it means that Impala is currently one of the hottest tables in the city.
From the trendy yet friendly front of house staff wearing matching cream pant suits and the mid-century industrial dining space centred around colossal charcoal grills and wood-fired ovens to the retro hi-fi system that is as much a work of art as a soundtrack provider, Impala is very London cool.
On the day of our visit, Impala was buzzing just minutes after opening at midday on a Tuesday. Whilst I’d booked our table as soon as reservations were released, Impala keeps some tables back for walk-ins and there were still a couple of spaces left even by the time we finished our meal.
We were originally sat on the counter by the bread oven, where flatbreads were being continuously belched out. However, as we quickly realised that it was hotter than a World Cup game in Florida, we were kindly moved to a table.
Impala’s lengthy menu is divided into untitled sections that I’ll roughly interpret as breads, snacks, small plates, smaller grilled items, larger plates, and grilled items. We picked an item or two from each section, checked with the front of house team if we’d Mr Creosoted it or not, and were good to go.
Wines by the glass started surprisingly reasonably at £7 a pop. I knocked back a couple of glasses of Parabolic Blanc (£7), a crisp blend of Macabeo and Xarel-lo whilst Mrs G loved the Sebastien Brunet sparkling Vouvray (£13). Red berry-laden Mee Godard Beaujolais (£15) and Domaine Boucabeille Grenache Syrah (£9) blend with dark fruits and spice followed.
Aish baladi (£6), a whole grain Egypt flatbread with a bran dotted exterior, was gorgeously soft and airy with a toasty lick of char. I can see why that bread oven is churning out so many flatbreads.
It was accompanied by a minimalist looking yet maximalist flavoured pool of olive oil with a blob of fiery harissa sat in its centre.
Another excellent accompaniment for that bread was a silky white bean dip (£8) with a vibrant green herb salsa and slivers of salty bottarga.
Crab kibbeh saw fragrant shiso leaves wrapped around sweet white crab, nutty grains of sun-dried wheat and a good hit of herb and chilli heat. From everything I’ve read about Impala, I can see why this dish has been getting so much love.
Molokhia (£14), one of Egypt’s most famous dishes, saw long-cooked pieces beef in a thick, earthy and meaty spinach-like braised jute leaf stew. That dark and glossy sauce was particularly excellent with more of the aish baladi flatbread. However, arguably the beef was a little delicate in flavour, especially when it was billed as “aged”.
A pot of birds tongue pasta (£18), essentially orzo, was jumbled together with slow-cooked, spoonably soft oxtail pieces and a warming cinnamon and allspice scented tomato sauce. This was as comforting a bowl of food as it gets on a rainy day in London.
Caul fat wrapped Tamworth pork Cypriot sheftalia sausages (£14) were kissed with smoke from the grill, coated in a sticky glaze, and laden with coarse fat-flecked meat that sang with herbs.
For main, we passed on the remarkable looking duck roasted in molasses (£68) In favour of sweetbreads. Soft, tender, char-kissed and stickily glazed, it was a hell of a bit of meat and it was lovely accompanied by a salted onion and pickled chilli salad, which was a little bit like eating a large pile of lightly pickled onions. But at £35 for two smallish pieces of sweetbread, it did seem a bit stingy.
A pile of smoky and nutty freekeh (£12) that was topped with fronds of crisp pickled onion ensured there was no risk of me going home hungry.
There's only one dessert (£12) on Imapala’s menu so they clearly back it. I can see why as it’s one of the best tarts I’ve ever eaten. A golden and super crisp thin pastry case was home to distinct layers of sweet date jam and custard topped with vivid green dusted pistachio. The effect was unmistakably like jam sponge and custard, a mainstay of school dinner menus up and down the country.
Accompanying the bill were excellent pieces of wobbly strawberry fruit jelly.
We had a superb meal at Impala with its spice-packed flame-cooked food, friendly service and delicious wines. But it’s a bit of a stretch to say that it’s unlike any other restaurant in London – in fact it’s fairly easy to see the similarities with other vibey live fire, sharing plate and flatbread hawking establishments across the capital.
The Details:
Address - Impala, 13-14 Dean Street, London W1D 3RS
Web - https://impalasoho.com/
