Food Articles

Hunting down London's hard-to-find eats

Does the idea of another "sharing plates'n'sliders" night have you quivering under your desk? Try one of these rare heroes



Filthy. Dirty. Mucky. But blissfully comforting. You’ll get pretty close to the Quebecoise hot mess of chips, curds and gravy at burger spot Dip’n’Flip and Hampstead’s Garden Gate pub. But you’ll nail it – oh boy you’ll nail it right between the eyes – at The Poutinerie, a Brick-Lane-On-Sunday stall run by an actual, real-life, in-the-flesh Canadian called (phrasebooks out) Paul. It goes full-blown puritan and uses proper curds in the unholy trinity.

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Philly Cheesesteak

If your response to “How would you like your steak, sir?” is “Utterly corrupted, yo!” then grab one of these hellbeasts. Ribbons of prime rib-eye of beef get sordid with spoonfuls of Cheese Wiz, then sent to the doughy depths inside a soft Italian "hoagie roll" sub. And nobody’ll give you the authentic post-dish sweaty regret like the Philadelphian ex-pats of Liberty Cheesesteak, who fry up greatness at Spitalfields Market.

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You like the thrill of pizza. And you like the frivolity of pancakes. And you like the sophistication of saying you “went Japanese” for lunch. Well take a seat son, life’s about to take a stonking great turn for the better. Okonomiyaki are pretty much all three in one – cabbagey/eggy/battery things with loads of toppings piled high. And from Japan. Abeno’s your place for these – Europe’s only specialist restaurant.

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Po Boy

Two spots now, duking it out for your Po Boy allegiance. In the red corner, jumping on the spot, cracking its neck is Stax – the American diner with a big bruising Cajun-spiced popcorn shrimp and tangily sauced sammich. Its challenger? Hank’s Po Boys – wearing the colours of KERB and with an array of Po Boy versions to bring the pain, including the pulled pork, brisket and creole gravy "Poor Boy".

Hunting down london's hard-to-find eats

Colombia's Finest

Narcos taught us two things: one, that the word “puta!” covers all the sweary bases, and two, that Columbia’s national dishes sure did get the better of our Pablo. Terribly jumpered Pablo, with his belly like an oil drum, might have gotten away if it wasn’t for those empanadas and adobo wings slowing him down. Pour one out for the big man as you chow down in tribute at Colombian Street Kitchen at Green Rooms Hotel, and Maize Blaze at Camden Lock.

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