Flavour Bastard: London's latest twist on tapas is everything we've been waiting for
We took a trip to the restaurant no-one seems to get, and here's our verdict
Perched at the cusp of Firth Street, just off Soho Square, sits tapas hotspot and talk-of-the-town, Flavour Bastard. Despite its somewhat pompous title, the joint’s exterior is relatively subdued, with charcoal granite and wide windows sitting timidly beside flamboyant neighbouring bar, Circo. On initial impression, Soho’s controversial hangout is immediately less obnoxious than its string of unfavourable reviews would suggest.
Step inside and the restaurant’s urban-edged design morphs into something a little more elaborate. Polished concrete cladding engulfs deep purple walls, whilst metallic accents sparkle in soft, golden lighting. Couples occupy oak-toned tables, groups of fluttering millennials slouch merrily against velvet cushions. The mood is warm and relaxed.
Above all else, it is Flavour Bastard’s daring menu that has orchestrated confusion amongst critics. In tune with the tapas tradition, the restaurant’s niche selection of small plates are designed for sharing, savouring and stacking. The difference here, however, is that unlike its Spanish counterparts Flavour Bastard does not devote itself to any one cuisine in particular. Mediterranean herbs blend with Indian spices, pickled sardines are topped with banana chips, and there's garnishes of magnolia and bergamot. Each intricate dish was conceptualised and developed by head chef, Pratap Chahal, who took inspiration from his travels across Asia and Australia.
Courtesy of Flavour Bastard
We commenced our feast with a glass of Cantina Corbera (a crisp house white delivered in recycled bottles), and tucked into our first dish of deep-fried feta, honey, walnut and mint. Sweet, punchy and simply glorious . Next up was miso & mango glazed aubergine topped with a peanut-buckwheat crumble. An intriguing combination on paper, this was a divine modification of Japanese nasu dengaku that toyed with texture. In fact, we found most dishes on the menu to pivot on a crunch, with a respectful nod to the Burford brown egg, chestnut puree, olive crumble, raw caleriac & shimeji in particular.
Octopus with passionfruit, avocado, chipotle, kohlrabi & crunchy corn was delightfully light and breezy (though far better suited as a mid-afternoon snack on a salty Mexican beach, I presume). Our standout dish, undeniably, was the smoked goat, pomegranate & frankincense, orange and mooli. The meat was delicately shredded, amped up with a most sumptuous aromatic glaze and zesty fruit garnishing. Quite frankly, a glorified hoisin duck sort of affair. We finished off with a slice of simplicity: churro with white chocolate ice cream and pecan praline.
Now, with such bizarre pairings and whimsical concepts, I do comprehend how, for some, the 'fusion' promised by Flavour Bastard can easily switch to confusion. Honestly, much of it makes little sense. Yet, it is the indeterminable complexity of each carefully crafted dish that makes this Soho haunt so enticing. No, it isn't the best spot for authentic, flame-scorched tapas, nor is it a substitute for any of London's famed wok houses. Instead, it offers the opportunity to jaunt across continents, picking up spice from Morocco, heat from Jamaica and sauce from Indonesia, all in one all-encompassing bite. An absolute must-visit for the culinary curious.
Our plates:
Deep-fried feta, walnuts, honey & mint – £4.50
Miso & mango glazed aubergine, peanut-buckwheat crumble – £7.50
Burford brown egg, chestnut puree, olive crumble, raw celeriac & shimeji – £7.50
Smoked goat, pomegranate & frankincense, orange, mooli – £8.00
Octopus with passionfruit, avocado, chipotle, kohlrabi & crunchy corn – £10.00
Churro & ice cream — apple & cherry sorbet | clementine marmalade & petitgrain| white chocolate & pecan praline – £5.50 each
