Every older sibling knows that cheeky conniving whisper as you implicate a younger relative in some small act of delinquency – like quietly gorging on Nutella or scaling the countertops to raid the biscuit stash in the kitchen cupboards – ‘Don’t tell dad’. So when a restaurant adopts the phrase as a name, you expect a level of childish play, or some culinary naughtiness at which you feign disapproval but find irresistibly endearing.
Bakery by day, restaurant by night, Don’t Tell Dad appeared on Lonsdale Road in Queen’s Park at the end of 2024. Occupied by Carmel and Milk Beach, the street is one of north west London's most stylish foodie haunts. This place, opened by Coco di Mama co-founder Daniel Land (and named in memory of his late sister), is packed on a school night – it’s clearly doing something right. Dusky pink window sills, sage corduroy banquettes and marble table tops under soft glowy lighting give Don’t Tell Dad a romantic Parisian air. But so far, the loose crumpled waiters shirts and showtunes playing in the toilet cubicles are the only hints of any mischief.
A crab tart with a dollop of mayo and handful of watercress is all very Great British picnic
We ease in with cocktails – a pretty rhubarb and almond sour (frangipane in liquid form) and simple curry leaf daiquiri – shortly followed by gooey truffle and cheddar beignets and an adorable chubby crumpet piled with rich and treacly shredded oxtail. The rest of DTD’s Anglo-French menu, crafted by head chef Luke Frankie (formerly Noble Rot and the Drapers Arms) is short and tidy. A crab tart starter is served cold with a dollop of crab mayo and a handful of watercress that’s all very Great British picnic. The crab meat filling wasn’t quite bursting with flavour, but the flaky snap of the pastry was impeccable. Tea smoked trout with horseradish and pickles is lovely, though would have gone down even better had the side of soda bread been warmed.
The monkfish arrives bouncy with a beautifully crisp skin and doused in a glossy, green-speckled dill béarnaise. The sweet Jerusalem artichoke that accompanies it dreamily glides apart. We get a side of DTD’s take on pommes anna – two golden bricks of layered feuilletine potato. They sit just on the cusp between bronze and burnt, giving a deep, dark salty taste, evoking the same salty pleasure I used to get from Salt & Shake crisps as a kid post-swimming lessons.
Madeleines feel like the obvious way to go for dessert. We’re warned they’ll take around 15 minutes to prepare, since they’re made fresh, but soon enough, five warm pillowy shells land on our table. Their crispy outer layer and soft inside is gorgeous, though the dollop of creme fraiche and dark cherries on our plate was disappointingly stingy and barely enough to complement even two of the sponges. And that’s the thing – Don’t Tell Dad feels like it's holding something back. For a place that claims ‘anything goes’, it’s just a little too well-behaved.
The vibe A pretty bistro-slash-bakery in north-west’s trendiest corner.
The food Stylish Anglo-French comfort dishes with a drop of nostalgia.
The drink Classy spins on cocktails and plenty of organic European wines.
Time Out tip Get the madeleines to share, or be prepared to take them away for later – they’re deceptively filling.