Fallow, London restaurant review

In the age of social media, the viral chef rules supreme. 

It must be frustrating for some chefs these days. When all you want to do is focus on cooking and running a kitchen, success can seem to depend just as much on being a social media personality as it does on your culinary skills. I’m sure many chefs choose a back-of-house career for a reason, and constantly being expected to create content probably isn’t one of them.

Chefs like Matthew Ryle, Adam Byatt, Will Murray and Jack Croft have all enhanced their reputations by pulling back the curtain on how to prepare restaurant style dishes. Each has amassed hundreds of thousands of social media followers and, I’m sure, bolstered their booking sheets as a result.

Will and Jack are the duo behind @fallowchefs, which currently has an eyepopping 1.6 million followers on Instagram. They’re also the chef patrons of Fallow, a restaurant that’s located just a minute’s walk from Piccadilly Circus and is currently ranked at 89 in the National Restaurant Awards.

Billed as serving “conscious gastronomy”, Will and Jack have done a fine job of creating menus that are both aspirational yet accessible. Dishes include crowd pleasers like a dairy cow burger (£19) or crispy fried chicken buns (£10) as well as more challenging plates such as sweet and sour pig head (£59).

As we sat at lovely high table in the window at Fallow on a Sunday lunchtime, we were surrounded by families with toddlers, groups of tourists and chichi couples, many of whom were getting stuck into a Sunday roast. Fallow have certainly succeeded in pulling in a broad customer base – a bit like Cardiff’s Pasture, which seems to appeal to everyone.

As we’d been on the booze on Saturday night, we stuck to alcohol free drinks - a fresh and fruity Dragon Punch (£11) made with tea, apricots and mint, and a highly gluggable Beavertown 0% (£8) pale ale.

We ordered a bunch of snacks, small plates and larger dishes to share, and a smoked leek Caesar salad (£16) was the first to arrive. Layered with sweet charred leeks, crisp leaves, nuggets of salty pancetta and crunchy croutons coated in a briny anchovy charged dressing, it was a first-rate salad. 

Next to show up was a silky smooth, creamy and umami rich mushroom parfait (£18) with a wonderfully complex boozy twang of port, madeira, and brandy. It was served alongside slabs of charred sourdough. I thought Tom Simmons’ version was as brilliant as mushroom pâtés could get, but somehow this was even better.  

Crisp and sweet corn ribs (£9) were coated in a compellingly savoury and smoky spice rub made with kombu and smoked paprika. They were a simple yet highly addictive snack. 

Smoked beef dairy ribs (£15), with just a few mouthfuls of meat left on the bone, were also just the right size to live up to their snack billing. I'd love to have had a go at one before it had been stripped of most of its meat. Stupidly tender and richly beefy, they were excellent dredged through a pool of intensely umami reduced cooking juices.

A cod’s head (£29) was our main event and it looked like a monster, both in portion size and personality. But in fact, it was a delicate beast that required plenty of burrowing around its various nooks and crannies to extract the equivalent of a small fillet of fish. It was well worth the effort as the meaty fish was glorious drenched in a spicy and glossy sauce that tasted like it was 50% sriracha and 50% butter.

Finally, sweet and juicy heritage tomatoes (£12) were piled on top of a bed of creamy labneh and cleverly seasoned with the crunch of seeds and fragrance of deep-fried curry leaves.

At this point, the efficient yet standoffish service that we’d experienced up until now, ground to a halt and after fifteen minutes of waiting for our table to be cleared, we gave up and asked for the bill (which included an eyebrow raising 15% service charge). 

I was seriously impressed by the elevated yet crowd-pleasing food at Fallow and I can see why Will and Jack’s cooking has amassed them over a million followers on social media. It’s slightly frustrating that it was let down by indifferent service as it didn’t come close to the level of the excellent cooking. 

The Details:

Address - Fallow, 52 Haymarket, London SW1Y 4RP
Web - https://fallowrestaurant.com/
Telephone - 020 8017 1788

Impala, Soho, London restaurant review

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/

Bryn Williams at Porth Eirias, Colwyn Bay, North Wales restaurant review

Despite Bryn Williams at Porth Eirias's credentials as a former AA Restaurant of the Year for Wales, I was still a little bit sceptical about how good it was going to be.

Firstly, because restaurants with great views in tourist destinations are often mediocre. The reason, tourists don’t tend to be repeat customers, and a pretty view is enough to draw anyone in.

Secondly, because celebrity chef-owned restaurants sometimes trade off a star name that only ever pops their head in once a year.

I was immediately proved wrong on the second count because we were informed that Bryn visits the restaurant two or three times a month as well as making regular visits to his other gaffs in Penarth and Switzerland.

The proof would be in the pudding on the first charge…

Situated on Colwyn Bay’s seafront, Bryn Williams at Porth Eirias’s industrial dining room was a striking venue for an Easter Monday lunch. Other people clearly agreed as it was pretty much a full house.

Understandably, the menu is well populated with fish, with most starters costing around £9, mains in the low twenties, and desserts about £9. It’s surprisingly well-priced compared to other bistros we’ve visited lately.

The first bite of a meal is so often an indicator of how good things are going to be and in this case soda bread (£5) was a beacon of hope. Served hot from the oven, the sturdy sliced loaf had lovely sweet caramelised notes and was excellent slathered with whipped salted butter.

Mrs G kicked off with the Scottish scallop (£19.50), a behemoth of a bivalve with caramelised edges whose accompaniments all packed a punch. There was creamy cauliflower puree, earthy pieces of black pudding and a warming curry oil flecked with sweet sultanas and crunchy pine nuts. It was a delicious riff on a classic.

My crab rarebit (£9.20) was a simpler yet equally delicious proposition. Sourdough toast was laden with a thick mustardy cheese sauce enhanced with an earthy hit of brown crab. On top, a mound of sweet, allium-flecked white crab provided a counterpoint to the richness.

Much like the starters (and us), Mrs G went classy and I went basic.

A beautifully cooked whole plaice (£24.50) flaked off the bone with ease. Sat in a pool of beurre noisette with addictive sweet and toasty caramelised notes, pickled shimeji mushrooms, cucumber and capers all brought welcome pops of acidity.

I went for the fish fingers (£18.50) which were served in anything but a kiddies’ tea-sized portion. Three breadcrumbed fillets of coley were commendably crisp and meaty and served alongside a big pot of golden fries and sweet crushed peas.

The kicker, however, was a mahoosive bowl of homemade creamy tartare sauce that was fragranced with dill and zingy pieces of pickle.

We also shared a Caesar salad (£4.10) on the side, which was a naughty little treat. Crisp leaves were coated in an umami-charged anchovy mayo and topped with a flurry of parmesan cheese and crisp Sourdough croutons.

The baked Alaska (£8.70) has been on the menu at Porth Eirias since day one, so it sounded like a sensible order. Light sponge was topped with a dollop of tangy berry jam, a big dollop of smooth vanilla ice cream and coated in light and silky baked meringue which was soft and mallowy in parts and crisp and caramelised elsewhere. This cast iron skillet of indulgence is definitely for those with a sweet tooth and I reckon it could easily have served two people.

Mrs G ordered the lemon curd parfait (£8) from the specials board and it was the winner of the two desserts. A soft, thick and creamy frozen parfait with a lick of lemon acidity was served with a bevy of treats - zingy blobs of lemon curd, freeze-dried sour cherries, crunchy granola and a toasty black sesame tuille.

Despite my trepidation, we had an excellent lunch at Bryn Williams at Porth Eirias. Their technically accomplished and well-priced classical cooking, served in beautiful setting, makes this a celebrity restaurant which most definitely deserves its reputation.

The Details:

Address - Bryn Williams at Porth Eirias, The Promenade, Colwyn Bay, Conwy LL29 8HH

Web - https://portheirias.com/

Telephone - 01492 533700 

The Jackdaw, Conwy, North Wales restaurant review

As a keen twitcher, any restaurant that has a bird for its name is already predisposed to be my kind of place.

Such is the Jackdaw in Conwy, or Jac-do in Welsh, which takes its name from the smallest of crows that nest in the town’s walls and the nickname for someone born in the local area.

It's owned by Nick Rudge, who originally hails from Llandudno, and was a former junior sous chef at Heston Blumenthal's Fat Duck. The Jackdaw has been high on my list of places to visit ever since it opened back in 2021.

Hidden away above a derelict bingo hall and signposted by just a low-key brass plaque on its door frame, the Jackdaw’s narrow staircase opens into a modern and classy dining room. Several design features are familiar from other contemporary fine-dining restaurants, including fur-lined seats, jars of pickles and dried flower hanging wall decorations.

But the Jackdaw still feels distinctly Welsh, with local influences scattered across the menu and distances from Conwy denoted on the drinks list. Unlike some chefs that take pride in flying in the most expensive ingredients from across the world, Nick tries to use as much Welsh produce as possible.

I started off with a Wild Horse Nokota pale ale (£6.50) from just down the road in Llandudno – it’s always a juicy easy drinker at 3.8% ABV. Mrs G sipped a distinctive yet comforting meadowsweet scented gimlet (£13.50). We also had belting glasses of Ancre Hill pinot noir (£9) from Monmouthshire before finishing up with a slightly further flung Chateau Guiraud 1er cru Sauternes (£15) and Patricius Tokaji (£17 - we both agreed the Tokaji was much better).

But, onto the food and I've rarely come across such confident cooking that shows Wales (and the chef's personality) on a plate instead of the usual fine dining by numbers. During evenings there’s a single ten course tasting menu on offer (£125) whilst on Friday and Saturday lunches, six courses are available for £60.

First up, there was a pretty trio of snacks.

Lady Llannover's salt duck was based on a historic recipe from a classic Welsh cookery book that dates back to the 19th century. Kind of like a duck jamon, its fat melted in the mouth and the flesh glistened.

A delicate AF tart case was filled with clean tasting cured gilthead bream and slices of raw asparagus.

Lastly, a crempog Gwanwyn (Spring pancake) had Welsh taco vibes. The soft and airy pancake was filled with the sweetest of langoustines draped with smoky cured pork belly, as well as vibrant leek and intense langoustine emulsions.

Next up was one hell of a good Welsh rarebit. Crisp, fat rich fried bread, a potent Hafod cheese sauce and tangy Conwy brown sauce all made for a killer mouthful.

After all those decadent snacks it was time for a green juice cleanse. A vivid green nettle and apple marigold broth was garnished with slivers of Wye valley asparagus, creamy goat curd and the funk of Welsh truffle.

The Welsh classics were coming thick and fast at this point and I was fully invested. Especially when the Jackdaw's cawl is the best I've ever eaten by some distance. Amongst the depths of an intensely meaty and rosemary scented broth bobbed sweet and tender salt baked swede, carrot and leek and a cuboid of ridiculously tender lamb.

On the side, more fried bread, this time caraway scented, was topped with a fat rich lamb head mince and slices of zippy pickled onion.

Mrs G had an Anton Ego moment with the next course and was transported back to her days at the Welsh seaside as a kid. A gorgeously flavoured-packed sea lettuce dashi was the essence of seaweed in a bowl. In it nestled the meatiest of caramelised scallops and a variety of briny sea vegetables.

Melt in the mouth, buttery confit trout was paired with a creamy smoke-twanged sauce that was split  with dill oil. A variety of richness balancing accompaniments all played their part - sharp salted rhubarb, pickled mustard seeds, and salty trout roe pearls.

Lastly, a guinea fowl dish was the ultimate chicken dinner. The crisp-skinned juicy slice of bird was served with a glossy truffle fragranced gravy, silky wild garlic puree and earthy morels.

The sweet stuff was just as good as the savoury. Finely diced sweet Anglesey rhubarb jelly was accompanied by smooth and sharp rhubarb ice cream. Nostalgic yet modern, it was a belter of a pre-dessert.

Legend has it that the original recipe for Guinness was inspired by a Welsh tavern in nearby Llanfairfechan and our main dessert took inspiration from this folk story. 

A deeply toasty barley and chocolate ganache, yeast caramel, crunchy barley and malted ice cream all gave the effect of a distinctly Guinness-esque dessert. It was superb.

Finally thick, sticky, liquorice twanged treacle toffee with a scattering of sea salt was a dreamy last mouthful.

The Jackdaw’s combination of epic Welsh cooking without a single misstep, warm and friendly service, and a charming, relaxed setting made it one of the best meals we've ever eaten in Wales. I would say it’s surprising that it doesn’t have a Michelin star but then nothing surprises me about the tyre people anymore.

Book a trip to North Wales on holiday, walk the coast path, spot some seals and mountain goats, drink local beer, visit a few castles and most importantly eat dinner at the Jackdaw. You won't be disappointed.

The Details:

Address - The Jackdaw, High Street, Conwy, LL32 8DB

Web - https://www.thejackdawconwy.co.uk/

Telephone - 01492 596922