Temper restaurant london review
After dinner at Temper I slept with the smell of dinner in my hair. I stank of wood smoke, rendered animal and testosterone. They leave their mark on your nostrils and your hair and your psyche, temper restaurant london review. I was derailed by the noise and the flames and the beards.
LDN Review. BBQ Tacos. Ketchup-flavoured crisps. Olympic curling. KY wrestling smackdowns.
Temper restaurant london review
Going Out Restaurants. Arriving at Temper Soho , you escape the cobblestone bedlam of Broadwick Street for an elegant bar: speckled countertop, smart stools. You smell embers. You descend. A pit of green leather, carcasses smoking over sordid fires — salt, grease, acid, heat and careless gluttony piling aged beef and angry sauces on to vegetables and bread, blackened and supplicant. Delicious ruckus. A brushed-metal bar skirts the signature open kitchen. There are cocktail taps, a robata grill, a wood-fired oven. Very London, very now. Two tapped drinks in hand — one excellent Temper vermouth from Cocchi, one Aperol sadly unspritzed — and we were hungry. Nduja; kimchi; lardo; unorthodox charcuterie; katsuobushi; katsu; ssamjang; XO; harissa; harrisa sic. It promised thrilling nuance and nuclear collision.
And smoke. Cabrito goat ragu was more name drop than flavour bomb. They leave their mark on your nostrils and your hair and your psyche.
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LDN Review. BBQ Tacos. Ketchup-flavoured crisps. Olympic curling. KY wrestling smackdowns. These are all things that you might find confusing at first, but also simultaneously exciting. Instead, the menu jumps around the world like a millennial with a trust fund.
Temper restaurant london review
After dinner at Temper I slept with the smell of dinner in my hair. I stank of wood smoke, rendered animal and testosterone. They leave their mark on your nostrils and your hair and your psyche. I was derailed by the noise and the flames and the beards. Oh, those beards! Who thought this was a good idea? There is a menu, but they could just replace it with a massive sign stamped with the word MEAT! Lots of fat.
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Nduja; kimchi; lardo; unorthodox charcuterie; katsuobushi; katsu; ssamjang; XO; harissa; harrisa sic. Make your own bloody minds up. You might consider sharing it, but that would be a mistake. Meat goes on the fire and comes off the fire, its skin the colour of brass coins. I stank of wood smoke, rendered animal and testosterone. Temper is brash and boisterous and macho and ludicrous — and utterly brilliant. And I would do this, really I would, were it not for one thing. One thing though. Our newsletter hand-delivers the best bits to your inbox. Temper Covent Garden is David Chang lobotomised: not sending diners to hell in a handcart, but to purgatory on a bandwagon. Of course, you could sit at a table and stare at each other but again, why would you? Here, a good furrowed brow is a minimum qualifying standard.
Book a table.
Neil Rankin. Included In. It promised thrilling nuance and nuclear collision. Good cheese. Written by David Paw. The fourth restaurant in the Temper family, the Shoreditch incarnation of these steakhouse and barbeque spots is cut from the same cloth as its older Soho sibling there are two other joints in Bank and Covent Garden. They furrow their brows. Dedicating that robata to fresh produce was genuinely exciting. Dinner Guest. Temper is one of the most exciting restaurants to open in London this year.
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