They’ve wanted AA Gill to try Berber & Q for ages, but he’s indisposed and won’t come to Hackney (chicken), so they got me instead. I understand his hesitation. West London doesn’t want for excellent Moroccan food or great cocktails. Why schlep east for a restaurant where you can’t even book a table, and you might find yourself queuing outside for an hour surrounded by lumbersexuals? I think Gill also balked at a restaurant playing house music that tweets menu updates punctuated by camel emojis. But if, like me, you live east, like east, and are wooed by the promise of lush cocktails and skilled chefs, Berber & Q sounds very appealing.
Berber & Q is in Haggerston, which until now has been a no-man’s land where Shoreditch leaks into Dalston. It’s not Shoreditch, which resembles a hipster’s Magaluf, an East Berlin theme park for kids who buy Ramones T-shirts from Topshop and consider Vice magazine alternative. Nor is it Dalston, where Jewish and Turkish immigrants rub along with neon LGBT club nights. Haggerston, located geographically between them, in terms of gentrification is behind both.
But that’s changing. Newbuild flats are attracting bright young things. Artists’ studios and start-up offices have moved into warehouses. Members’ bars are appearing in once-dying local pubs. It is an area of such emerging hipsterness that Russell Brand holds his political stand-up here and I live up the road. To one side of Berber & Q is the games cafe Draughts, where boys with handlebar moustaches play Connect 4. On the other, at Jones at Trip, girls drink Jones Collins cocktails on an Astroturf terrace.
Surprisingly for me, the mezze was the best bit. They have done things with cauliflower I didn't think were possible
Teasing Berber & Q for being hipster is too easy. Yes, they have a collaboration making craft beer. Yes, they have all the decor clichés — exposed brick walls, exposed copper piping, vintage filament bulbs. The menu is “right on” — a peanut-allergy trigger warning and the promise that you can look up the farm from where your meat was sourced and check your sausages had a good life before they were killed. It’s the kind of place you can go, as the man next to us proves, and unselfconsciously wear a hat indoors. But if hipsters know about one thing, it’s good food. The plus side of gentrification is it brings cupcakes, cocktails and urban-fusion gastronomy.
Advertisement
The name merges “Berber” and BBQ. The kitchen mixes North African Berber influences with American BBQ-grill techniques. Moroccan flavours — saffron, turmeric, harissa — are paired with soft meats left for hours in a smoker, served with a changing mezze menu. The combination reflects the experiences of its founders, Josh Katz, the ex-Ottolenghi chef behind the pan-cultural Made in Camden and kosher restaurant Zest, and Mattia Bianchi — formerly of Ben Spalding and also Ottolenghi.
Inside a warm brick womb, low ceilings are lit by cut-copper shades (it’s great lighting for a date). The house music soundtrack is poppy, but you can talk over it. Across the room in the open kitchen, whites and stainless steel disappear behind billows of smoke. The cocktails are brilliant. My Gal Godot (cucumber-infused gin, mint, watermelon and rose syrup) was a zesty coupe. The Boy’s Top Shelf — bourbon, egg white and baharat spice — had more of a kick. Sweet and tart, they went well with the food, so we kept them coming.
The service was super-friendly without being intrusive. Although we were advised to order way too much food. Even the Boy, who eats like a horse, couldn’t finish it. Our waitress suggested we share a couple of meat dishes, a couple of mezze and a pickle. One meat dish would do.
We started enthusiastically with “bar snacks”. Tahini-heavy hummus smothered in nutty whole chickpeas and served with puffy pittas. “Burnt ends”, deliciously described as meat end-cuts, turned out to be greasy rinds. I found them inedible.
We should have gone straight to the mains. They came on a vast sharing platter: a chunky, dark-green salad chucked alongside tender meats onto a thick cushion of flatbread to soak up the juice. Messy, straightforward, bold food, which I like. Fresh and simple with rich enough flavours from clever cooking, it doesn’t need lots of sauce sloshed on top. And the portions are big. Possibly too big.
Advertisement
I crave the beef ribs even now — a thick slab of smoked, melting-from-the-bone meat, grilled crispy brown on top and fatty underneath, sweetened by a date-syrup glaze (although expensive, at £19). The hand-pulled goat mechoui was less exciting. It tasted of nothing. The merguez sausages were meaty, lamby, tasting of the grill. The salad — fresh coriander, dill and baby gem — was almost too salty, but added an ideal bite to the meat. There was also a mixed-pickle selection: sweet-sour dill cucumbers, Moroccan pickled carrots, turmeric cauliflower.
Surprisingly for me — a meat lover — the mezze was the best bit. They’ve done things with cauliflower I didn’t know were possible: served as shawarma by quarter, half or whole — roasted to the edge of creaminess (without getting mushy), lightly lemony and adorned with a tangy, sweet combination of salt, cumin, rose and pomegranate. A blackened aubergine split in half was filled with garlic yogurt and melted walnut. The Boy, who hates aubergine so much he told me not to order it, finished the lot.
We forced ourselves to share a pudding: a coconut malabi (think panna cotta) with soaked raspberries and (allegedly) pistachios.
I have mixed feelings about Berber & Q. It balances skilful cooking with delicate flavours. Brilliant at times; at others, hit and miss. But I’m just not convinced people are bothered about clever cooking with this kind of food, which is what I tend to eat when drunk. If you want spare ribs cooked on charcoal grills, spiced meats seared on a grill and baba ghanoush served by people who’ve been doing this for decades, there’s a lifetime’s supply in Dalston, which is filled with Moroccan restaurants and Turkish grills where two can eat for under £40, in places playing Turkish music, owned by Turkish couples, who at some point have a nice, authentic row because he’s eyeing up the belly dancer.
Advertisement
I’m not anti-gentrification. I can’t wait for Waitrose and Starbucks to open here, and my flat to go up threefold. But Berber & Q doesn’t just take the place of established businesses, it dishes up their cuisine.
If you want to tempt Gill all the way from west London, why not offer something truly new?
Berber & Q, Haggerston Arch 338, Acton Mews, Haggerston, London E8 4EA; berberandq.com (they do not take reservations); Tue-Sun: 6pm-11pm; Sat-Sun: 11am-3pm
Second Helpings: three of the best Middle-Eastern grill houses
Shaam Nights, Cardiff
Syrian restaurant in Cardiff city centre, with Middle-Eastern inspired decor and grilled-meat classics. 116-118 City Road, Roath, Cardiff CF24 3DQ; 02920 482824, shaamnights.com
Advertisement
Humpit, Leeds
Vegan Middle-Eastern pitta bar, serving pitta, falafel, pickles and hummus in Leeds Corn Exchange. Humpit, 2 Call Lane, Leeds LS1 7BR; 0113 245 3836
Mezze Palace, Bristol
Lebanese restaurant serving grilled meat, fish and mezze in a below-ground room with arched ceilings. Mezze Palace, 13A Small Street, Bristol BS1 1DE; 0117 927 7937, mezzepalace.com