Treves & Hyde

It’s all go in Aldgate, where new towers are springing up like expensive mushrooms and boring old office blocks are transmogrifying into co-working spaces and photography galleries. This place is at the sharp end of London’s contradictions: swanky flats versus strip clubs, chicken shops versus shiny wine bars, builders’ caffs versus aspirational/casual restaurant/bar/cafés like Treves & Hyde. It’s a bit of a fine-dining blackspot round here, and in that respect this modern European kitchen is a welcome arrival. But like the neighbourhood itself, T&H is suffering a bit of an identity crisis.

Downstairs it’s a coffee shop; upstairs a restaurant and cocktail bar. And it’s full of weird dichotomies. The flashy presentation (stacks and streaks everywhere) belies the solid, reliable flavours: a small-but-mighty wodge of pork belly, a salty, buttery, fresh prawn pasta. The house red was from super-classy vintners Berry Bros & Rudd, but the coconut panna cotta came pre-refrigerated in a jar. Confused? I was. The restaurant is too relaxed and reasonably priced for a fancy treat, but too upmarket to become a bargainous neighbourhood stalwart. Though there’s plenty that’s impressive here (even delicious), the lasting feeling is confusion: not so much Treves & Hyde as Jekyll & Hyde.