Turkey’s attitude stinks. Reporting for duty once a year, turning up dry, and inspiring that annual skin-crawling “breast or thigh?” gag from Creepy Uncle Will. Here it gets a delicious, mouth-watering transformation in the form of year-round Mediterranean eats, turning Le Turk into sticky wings, charcoal-grilled drummers and more.
If your answer to “How would you like your steak, sir?” is “Without any messing about”, then this is the Fulham Rd outpost for you. No menus, just perfectly seasoned, beautifully smoky 12oz sirloins fresh off the Big Green Egg BBQs in the kitchen, or the showstoppin’, belt-poppin’ tomahawk steak to share/scare the bejeezus out of your belly.
The lobster roll is the sort of thing that’ll earn you a fishy glove to the face from a craggy old Cornish seaman. “Sacrilege!” he’ll scream as you devour the butter-soaked brioche bread, the fresh mayo and the decadent flesh of the vicious claw-bearer. And nobody does them better in London than these street-food trucksters.
Sounding a lot like a pair of shadow-dwelling, palm-punching hitmen from a Raymond Chandler novel, these two chaps named Dave who bloody love making risotto balls are the epitome of the Street Food Dream. Starting with nowt but a little stall on Brick Lane, they’re now fully-fledged members of the high-street crew, with bricks and mortar at Dalston, Kentish Town and Old Street.
Go on mate, we know you’re dying to argue that this one doesn’t adhere to our single-serve classification. Yeah, there’s scallop chunks and noodles and tripe and plenty more ingredients you can pick from the conveyor belt that runs through the middle of this swanky Chinatown spot, but the unifying thing here is that all of them get DIY cooked in your very own bubbling broth. It’s a broth fest. A hot pot hoedown.
An international festival of light
Dinner in a decommissioned 1967 underground carriage
Half-price brunch and a HUGE fried chicken burger