Bittern Sweet
The Yellow Bittern: a café by Luncheon Magazine ruffles feathers, serving old school charm with a side of controversy.
On the cusp of Caledonian Road, sits a pocket of provocation. The Yellow Bittern, Luncheon Magazine’s latest venture, is a café that merges culinary elegance with Irish nostalgia. It’s an ode to the long, indulgent lunches of another era; a rejection of sharing plates and table turning.
Charming, yes. Endearing, sure. Everyone’s cup of tea… no. The Yellow Bittern has caused quite the controversy amongst London’s diners. Responses to the restaurant are sensational. “An overpriced LARP,” that “leaves you muttering about school dinners,” scoffs one review. “Wartime Britain during rationing gave us better food,” wrote another, above a measly one-star rating.
I was a little nervous, therefore, to commit myself to a reservation. True to its old-school disposition, bookings are accepted only by postcard, of which I slipped tentatively through the letterbox, peering through dewy windows into the dimly lit space. Two days later, I was offered a table for one of their two sittings: 12 noon or 2pm and told to bring cash. Gulp.
Noon, as it always does, rolled around quickly. A buzz on the doorbell, and I was welcomed shyly by Frances Armstrong-Jones, editor of Luncheon Magazine and one third of the Yellow Bittern. I sat in front of a photograph of Brendan Behan and next to a portrait of Lenin. Hugh Corcoran, the Yellow Bittern’s second third and only chef, is as devoted to his politics as he his to his restaurant; both are fuelled by passion, knowledge and the determination to make change.
“Do you want a drink?”
I liked that the wine list was in Corcoran’s head and all I had to do was pick a colour.
“Red, please,” I decided, ignoring the fact that it was only ten past twelve in the afternoon, and I was yet to eat breakfast.
My gaze poured across the domicile-inspired décor, its washed brown tiles, wooden tables, buttery yellow wallpaper and paper tablecloths. Large slabs of cooked ham and hunks of cheese adorn the countertops behind which the kitchen is home to a single stove.
To start, radishes and butter and a wedge of their signature dense soda bread. Followed by roasted guinea fowl, of which the meat and potatoes were tender, salty and full of a delicate flavour. I ignored my instinctive desire for a salsa verdé and was enjoying the meat so enormously that I almost ignored the green salad that followed. Next, three Irish cheeses. Strong, salty and generous slabs of them. For dessert, a very, very good, not-too-sweet rice pudding.
I loved it. And so, I guess, whether you view it as a clever homage or a cleverer appropriation, one thing is certain: The Yellow Bittern serves food for thought as much as it does for the table.