In an industry with a novelty addiction, restaurants need to stick to the recipe
The first time I ate the smoked-eel sandwich at Quo Vadis I was alone and new to Soho. Tangy pink onions. The sharp slap of horseradish. And a buttery crunch, the kind that only exists when bread has been toasted in fat by a chef. You can order it late into the night and it pairs wonderfully with a martini.
The dish was created by Quo Vadis’s chef proprietor, Jeremy Lee, a man so jolly that one bite can summon him like a genie to greet you at your table. It’s said that on one unremarkable day in the mid-1990s, Lee had “a load of smoked eel and Poilâne sourdough to use up” and, well, that’s the whole story. Born out of thrift, perfected by repetition and still presented with panache, that sandwich has been on my mind since 2013, and Lee’s menus for some 30-odd years. First at Blueprint Café, the restaurant that he ran at the Design Museum, and now at Quo Vadis.
But the smoked-eel sandwich is a symbol of a greater culinary question: in an industry with a novelty addiction, how do we celebrate the magic of what’s already here? Getting people into new restaurants is easy: algorithms reward it, the media ranks it, diners chase it. The refrain of “Have you been to…?”is a daily dinin my industry. Long-established restaurants are expected to reinvent themselves to stay relevant because diners are guilty of treating old favourites like old lovers: fondly remembered, rarely visited.
And yet, many of London’s most beloved restaurants and dishes aren’t new at all. The steak haché at Brasserie Zédel, the fish-sauce chilli wings at Smoking Goat, the curry udon at Koya – none of them have really changed. They have simply remained excellent. Returning to them is akin to revisiting a favourite book: taking pleasure in familiar beats or perhaps introducing someone to them.
What if the shortcut to joy isn’t constant change but repetition? Dishes needn’t be about surprise so much as return. The smoked-eel sandwich hasn’t changed much since the 1990s and nor should it. Its power lies in its delicious consistency: the joy of knowing exactly what’s coming and being transported back to that first bite. Of course, restaurants must evolve, whether through sustainability, provenance or sheer creativity. But there’s a difference between evolution and panic reinvention. Not everything has to be a debut.
Perhaps the trick – for diners and creators alike – is to resist the reflex to chase the new for its own sake. To be confident and let the classics shine. Because sometimes, what we need isn’t the next big thing but the same crunchy, horseradish-laced sandwich that has been waiting at the bar all along. Martini in company. As perfect as ever.
Emily Bryce–Perkins is a London-based writer. In London and in need of a few suggestions? Be sure to consult Monocle’s City Guide. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
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