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In Bangkok, thai fusion joint the Greyhound Café is a hit with fashion bloggers and Insta-wannabes. This, its first London outpost, has a more eclectic crowd: Thai gen-Z-ers selfie-snapping alongside local workers drawn to the large outside space. There’s a slight chain-in-waiting vibe: your standard semi-industrial space with a clattery open kitchen, wipe-clean surfaces and staff in T-shirts with naff witticisms.‘Keep calm and chilli’? Oh, please.
But it’s the cooking that veers from the sublime to the ridiculous. A poshed-up satay, made with rib-eye steak, was outstanding. The tender, turmeric-slathered skewers were good enough to fly solo, but also came with an addictively good peanut sauce. Also brilliant – though not for the faint-of-palate – was a dish of ‘angry’ seafood noodles, but subbing in spaghetti as the carbs. An oil-slathered mess of al dente pasta, clams and squid, it was also studded with fresh veg, red chilli and bundles of green peppercorns. Don’t mind burning your insides? Go on, be brave.
But anything too #fashion failed. Cubes of bland ‘Weeping Wolf’ lamb came with an odd pesto-esque concoction (at least I now know why it was weeping). ‘Happy toast’ turned out to be crappy white toast with the word ‘happy’ dusted on the plate, plus four cloying, synthetic sauces in bottles. It’s a novelty made for an Insta feed, not a mouth. But then along came a heavenly, well-balanced coconut sundae (of sorts). This greyhound is off to a shaky start.