The Ballardian sprawl of London’s loveless financial district isn't everyone's idea of an ideal dining destination. Yet the only way to savour the imaginative, full-throttle flavours of Roe is by traversing Canary Wharf’s labyrinth of shiny skyscrapers and suited city workers. Even Roe know that finding the restaurant is a ballache – as you pound the endless concrete, flapping Glastonbury-style flags appear, leading you to Roe's rather pleasant waterfront location, which happily makes the whole prospect a touch less Bladerunner-y.
Some background; the massive Roe (there’s room for a sprawling 350 covers here, and more outside) comes from the team behind Fallow, the glammy St James’ spot that made its name by showing us that sustainability could also be sassy, via in-house grown mushrooms and viral sriracha-slathered cod’s head dishes.
The holy grail however, was a baked potato. Of course, the Roe version isn’t just any old jacky p
Roe follows a similar ethos, cooking with regenerative crops, highlighting underused British produce and using ingredients that even Fergus Henderson might think a little outré. The slightly mad walls, covered with chunks of 3D-printed coral, are also compostable – and while we’re not sure if that’s going to save the world, it does give you something to talk about if your date has terrible chat.
Offering a vast array of picky bits – there is talk of snacks, small plates, skewers and flatbreads before mains are even mentioned – we settled on two towering slices of cuttlefish fried toast with curls of pork skin. Crisp and oily without being greasy, it’s a gussied-up prawn toast that goes exceptionally well with a tongue-curlingly tart gooseberry daiquiri. Sea bream crudo with crunchy apple and radish in a pool of tiger milk citrus dressing is less vigorous, but provided much needed lightness on a menu stacked full of statement flavours.
One such dynamo of a dish was the snail vindaloo flatbread. Much less confrontational than it sounds, this hearty puff of dough sparkled under a spicy swirl of creamy curried sauce and mint yogurt. Our only complaint? Not enough snails.
The house mixed grill of venison, with flamed harissa haunch, prime cut, and sausage – and two sizable smoky peppers – offered majestic meatiness, but sharing such a platter between three or four people rather than a mere two might be a good idea for future visits. It’s a lot.
A side of tear and share-style blooming onion was deeply decadent yet pleasingly trashy. It’s a high-end take on fast food that seems to be dotted across much of Roe’s menu – you’ll also find breaded mushrooms, fries with salt and pepper seasoning, and a mint choc-chip ice cream dedicated to cornershop classic Viennetta.
The holy grail however, was a baked potato. Of course, the Roe version isn’t just any old jacky p – this one was bobbing merrily in a puddle of cheese sauce, and dusted with shoestring fries (spuds on spuds!) and kombu ketchup. We’d have loved a more crispy skin, but we’ll take whatever potatoes we can get.
Roe offers dishes that are both pleasingly odd and comfortingly familiar. But most shocking of all? It's worth braving Canary Wharf for.
The vibe Sustainable but swanky dining in a glossy, canal-side space by Carnary Wharf.
The food Experimental takes on fast food favourites using unloved ingredients and full-on flavour.
The drink There’s plenty of wine, but leftfield cocktails such as the P&T (garden peas, gin and tonic) are where it’s at.
Time Out tip On a budget? It’s entirely possible to build a meal from a single small plate and one flatbread – we suggest the snail vindaloo version.