The Palomar sits on Soho’s bustling, hustling Rupert Street in all its bright blue glory. It has been around for a few years and has achieved what many restaurants in recent years have failed to; it has stayed consistently on the go-to lists of foodies and hipsters alike.
Arriving on a rainy Sunday, we rushed through the doors with soggy feet and wet umbrellas. Our table wasn’t ready so we sat at the kitchen bar, drank cocktails and watched the chefs work their magic in front of us. We were then taken to our table that sat beneath a large roof window showcasing the heavy rain above. It was perfect.
We were a table of four so we ordered lots of dishes to share. We had Yemeni homemade bread with tahini, a tomato dip, burnt courgette tzatziki, chillies and pickles. You’ve never seen bread disappear so quickly. Next up were the beetroot carpaccio and fattoush salad followed by deconstructed kebab, ironed chicken thighs, pork belly and gnocchi.
It was, without doubt, an exemplary feast. The pungent flavour of fennel mixed with the warmth of the za’atar was insane, while the tenderness of the chicken thigh was so good I kept cutting it into tiny pieces in the hope of savouring it for as long as possible.
You’ll notice I didn’t take a single picture of my food. That’s partly because I was so engrossed in the delightful feast in front of me that even Tom Hardy couldn’t have diverted my attention, and partly because I couldn’t bear the thought of it going cold while I moved things around to get the shot.
The Palomar, 34 Rupert St, London W1D 6DN