Blessedly, the tyranny of the no-bookings London restaurant has dimmed. Five years ago you couldn’t move for walk-ins-only joints (hello Bao and Barrafina) with queues stretching down the streets of Soho as far as the eye could see. But bookings have been back, baby, for a while – however, so too is the dreaded weeks-long wait for a table at the hottest of hot spots. Think you’ll get a last minute four-top at Mambow? Are you quite sane?
It’s refreshing then, to find a place you can simply stroll up to and sit down immediately-ish– or, at the very least, after an indulgent wait while perched on an al fresco ledge with a basil daiquiri or frosty fro-marg in hand.
Was it like a miniature Hawaiian pizza with ideas above its station? Yes. Was it sensational? Truly
No-bookings Agora actually happens to be located below one of those oh-god-it’s-going-to-be-a-month-before-we-can-get-a-table places; the great, Greek-ish Oma, to which we recently gave a thumping five star review. Agora is run by the same man, Manteca mastermind David Carter, whose Midas touch shows no sign of fading. He’s here tonight, dashing between upstairs and downstairs as if he’s starring in a 1990s sitcom scene about someone on two simultaneous dates.
Such flagrant two-timing is totally acceptable when the food is this bloody good. Dishes at Agora also take their jumping off point from Greece, but while upstairs is more fish-focussed and island-inspired, downstairs pays tribute to the rustic street food of Athens. Agora translates as ‘market’, and you can casually window shop as if you’re at one before you enter, with large hatches onto the cobbled Bedale Street providing front-row viewing of the products of a two-metre charcoal rotisserie
It’s enough to entice even the only vaguely peckish – as are more wallet-friendly prices than Oma. Dips were charmingly addictive; chard borani with crispy slivers of garlic comes on a like a menacingly fresh-and-clean version of a trashy US spinach dip while spicy feta with roasted peppers and pickled red chilli oozes gracefully onto the salty pouffe that is Agora’s consummate lil’ naked flatbread. And yes, there are house-made crisps, scattered with aromatic nibs of oregano.
A lamb kebab skewer was faultess, but still kicked into oblivion by an incredible, £6 skewer of chicken thigh, amazingly soft and yielding and with a layer of perfect skin. Order two portions, as from experience I can tell you that it’s too traumatic to have to share.
Greek salad was panzanella-ish in delivery, studded with just-the-right-kind-of-soggy carob rusks, juicy tomatoes and creamy, almost spreadable galomizithra cheese. Hardly Greek at all, but hey, who’s counting, was a flatbread topped with spicy pork sausage, spitroast pineapple and the inescapable drizzle of hot honey. Was it like a miniature Hawaiian pizza with ideas above its station? Yes. Was it sensational? Truly. These small plates almost blow away what was supposed to be the star of the show, the wood-burning rotisserie. Our porchetta was immaculate, all herby on the inside and crunchy on the outside complete with gleaming golden crackling. But we can’t stop thinking about the flatbreads. Thankfully I won’t have to wait for weeks to devour it all again, I can just walk-in.
The vibe No bookings, stroll-in spot in Borough Market underneath the very good Oma.
The food Athens-style street food; skewers, flatbreads, salads and magical meats.
The drink All manner of fruity, creative cocktails, but our favourite was a Greek salad pickleback shot with Jameson and cucumber pickle juice. Weirdly refreshing.
Time Out tip Don’t want a sit-down meal? Swing by in the middle of the day for a take-out coffee and sweet or savoury flatbread (spinach and feta, tomato and garlic or banana, chocolate and hazelnut) from the street-facing counter.