Flesh and Buns - review

Flesh and buns is a really dodgy name; like something that would happen if Hannibal Lecter developed a teatime snack range with Hovis.  The same people also have a ramen restaurant called Bone Daddies, a name I don’t get either, so I’m clearly just not on their wavelength.  Still, no matter, they’re not naming my children, and I had heard great things about the restaurant.

After an emotional reunion, my flatmate and I arrived in Seven Dials; once the most notorious rookery in London, and now somewhere you can buy Cath Kidston teatowels and SuperDry t-shirts. I pass no judgement, but let’s just say I always thought Gin Lane looked quite fun.

The restaurant is a cavernous basement. I had read a few reviews (I have almost no original thought) that mentioned the trendy décor, but I couldn’t see any, despite intensive lighting. It was all white, and alright. We were at the end of a loooooooong communal table that ran right through the middle of the place.  The decibel level was such that we had to shelve our best gossip for later on; the two Spanish men sitting next to us were charming, but I’m pretty sure they would have been bored by it. Honestly, even I’m bored by it, and it’s my actual life.

Rather ambitiously, the waitress told us to order five starters and then a ‘flesh and bun’ to share. Five starters? Neither my flatmate nor I suffer from a lack of imagination with regard to overconsumption, but even for us this seemed a bit much. We confirmed this with our table mates, who had just shared one main course. Both of them were small though, and sadly gossip-less. We compromised on three.

The starters were really, really good. Spicy tuna rolls were elegant, soft shell crab was crunchy, and the prawn tempura were crisp and blisteringly hot.

And now for the concept. The ‘flesh’ is a choice of meats or fish which come, generously, with a variety of sauces and salady bits, as well as the ‘buns’; four soft, steamed hirata buns.  These looked vaguely alarming - floppy and pallid not being a desirable attribute in any part of an evening out -but are the very latest thing.  To clarify, when I say ‘latest thing’ I mean in London. Apparently people have been eating them in Asia for yonks.  They were ok - certainly filling, and very fluffy. We had them with flat iron steak and I thought everything was quite sweet and cloying, especially compared to the sparkle of the starters.  I’m almost certain that’s what they’re meant to taste like though, I have an earworm telling me that Japanese and Chinese taste runs to sweet in bread, so it’s a palate thing rather than a criticism. Unless my earworm is wrong.  He could be. He once told me glass was a liquid, a ‘fact’ I have whipped out to stunned and admiring glances from my friends and family (sort of) for years now, and which I recently found out is not actually true.  ('No it isn't' said my flatmate in a clear, confident voice, fixing me with a gimlet eye as we nursed our hangovers one Saturday lunchtime at a sunlit window table somewhere on Fulham Road. If this sounds like a dream sequence, it's meant to. My dreams died that day).

I digress.  For me, the concept of Flesh and Buns wasn’t particularly compelling, but it has a fun atmosphere, charming staff, you can book, and it is cheap -  we were out with a bottle of wine for £35 a head – so I would recommend it.  Because you read this for the restaurant tips, right?