Hiding in plain sight, you’ll find the demure Camille in one of the busiest foodie destinations in London, if not the world. Happily, it’s on the very edge of Borough Market, meaning you don’t have to experience the full chaos of the foodie nexus, merely skirt around the rim.
Eating at Camille is basically a religious experience
Camille is a small, pretty place. There are a handful of tables outside, and a chic burgundy and primrose colour scheme within. It doesn’t shout about its elegance, but rather whispers it seductively into your ear. There are white candles dotted about the mirrored dining room, some of them dripping with so much built-up wax one might confuse the place with a bijoux gothic cathedral. You’re not too far off, though, because eating at Camille is basically a religious experience.
Opened a couple of years back by the same team behind Soho’s Ducksoup, this French bistro immediately blew its forebear out of the water thanks to the skill and tenacity of head chef Elliot Hashtroudi. Learning his way around a carcass at St John (and his way around Borough Market at Padella across the road), he was tempted into the kitchen following a run of giddily-received pop-ups across the capital, ready to indulge in the regional cookery he fell in love with when visiting his aunt in the south of France, but with local British produce.
Like Keith Floyd in a trucker cap, he’s not French himself (he grew up in Devon), but is committed to the full-throttle nature of the country’s rustic, earthy cuisine. A case in point; offal. Our most recent visit saw us feast on cocks comb schnitzel and snout cassoulet, dishes that sound like you might have let Leatherface from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre into the kitchen. Yet both are sublime, the schnitzel light and crisp, served with a zingy anchovy tonnato and a bounty of green beans to cut through any offally murk. Snout is perhaps slightly more dividing and visually absolutely wild, the wet muzzle of a pig sitting in a dish of fiery beans. I adored it, but my photo did result in at least 10 people unfollowing me on Instagram. Make of that what you will.
For the less adventurous, there is still a world of wonder here. The tartare is one of the best I’ve ever had, full of smoke and crunch, while little parcels of puffed pig skin are topped with eel and tarragon to create a pillowy light bite that doesn’t scrimp on flavour.
Rosy slices of onglet are topped with Pevensey blue cheese, which melts into the meat, alongside baked beetroot, which comes on like a sweet, yielding pudding filling. This is steak cosplaying as a sweet treat, and it’s all the more enticing because of it. John Dory in a fruity Biarritz sauce is best enjoyed with Camille’s elite, no-notes fries. We wanted to order the Rollright, Doddington and Tickemore cheese plate, largely because it sounded like an anarchic Victorian music hall trio, but alas, we were too stuffed.
Camille is a place where carnivores will be much happier than vegetarians - it is French, after all - but it’s a triumph of imagination, talent, and guts (which you can expect to see on the menu next week).
The vibe A small bistro by buzzy Borough Market with a classy, intimate energy.
The food Modern and meaty, French and fancy. One for the serious flesh fiends.
The drink Small independent wine-makers specialising in French – across red, white, sparkling and orange.
Time Out tip Always get your waiter to talk through the specials: you’re not going to want to miss anything.
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