It’s always sad to see beloved favourites shut down – especially ones that made you believe there was more to London Fields than pints in the Spurstowe garden, burning sausages at Cunts Corner and avoiding exes at the lido. Pidgin – which opened in 2015 and gave Wilton Way its first Michelin star the following year – was one of those era-defining epoch shifters, and its recent closure after a decade of ever-changing menus (no dish ever served twice!) was a bit of a misery-maker.
Yet we’d barely had time to wipe away the tears before it was announced that head chef Drew Snaith and one-time manager Hannah Kowalski would be re-opening the restaurant under the name Sesta. That these members of the Pidgin extended family couldn’t bear to see the homely space leave their clutches just goes to prove just how special it really was.
Silliness sits comfortably alongside seriousness, with nduja-scotched olives leg-dropping the gilda into oblivion
The intimate room has been kept largely the same. It’s perhaps even more like a monied millennial’s living room than it already was, with a couple of new, arty prints dotted about and 7” punk vinyl in the loo with names we cannot reference here for fear of you being told off by HR for reading it on a work laptop.
No longer bound by the chains of a tasting menu, the first thing you notice is how much fun Snaith is having. Silliness sits comfortably alongside seriousness, with nduja-scotched olives leg-dropping the gilda into oblivion. These are big, burly boys (like a sly scotch egg) which arrive sliced down the middle and belly-up, the green, tart olive split with spicy sausage innards and cradled in a crunchy papoose. It might have been the greatest bar snack of 2024, were it not for the arrival of coastal cheddar and cider scones, topped with a turbo mouthful of creamy, fluffy cheese. This is the kind of thing you wish could be delivered to your bedside on the crest of every moderately painful hangover.
The playfulness continues with smacked cucumber drizzled with thick, sweet raspberry hot sauce on a pile of pungent cashew cream. If this is the world of a vegan, then I’d be happy to never eat meat again. Until that is, a towering beef ragu toastie with a fistful of dripping brown sauce and funky-looking prawn and stone bass dolma with ouzo butter slides into view. It’s food dreamed up deep in the middle of a Saturday night session and then bought into reality with little concern for judgement from the purists. Mains are more trad, but only a little; rolled lamb shoulder comes with thai chilli and fermented garlic honey while slow-grilled chicken leg accessories itself with an earthy bacon and prune stuffing. At Sesta, every dish is simultaneously maximalist and minimalist; a triumph of having a laugh in the kitchen, and keeping that energy alive on the plate without it verging into parody. Pidgin is dead – long live Sesta.
The vibe An east London classic in the making, that’s fancy without taking itself too seriously.
The food Playful food from seasonal British ingredients and featuring southeast Asian flavour twists and fermentation along the way.
The drink Natural wines abound, but there’s a potent cocktail menu too; we recommend the pink, perfect-looking ‘krapow’, made with gin, blackberry liqueur, peanut syrup and Thai basil.
Time Out tip No order is complete without a serving or two of nduja-scotched olives.