Heavy is the head that wears the hype crown given to the post-pandemic pop-up chef. Such is the struggle of Whyte Rushen, the burly dinner demon who helped Londoners creak out of the lockdown shuffle with his run of stunt-adjacent snackery. First, a sensational smashburger, then oysters topped with crumbled pickled onion Monster Munch (far, far better than it had any right to be), and next, dishes named in honour of the Stamford Hill Estate (wagyu beef meatballs with brioche, burger sauce, gherkin ketchup and duck-fat fries) and the Off Licence (flambé Basque cheesecake, crème fraiche, poached fruit and Crunchies).
So far, so gimmicky, but Whyte Rushen – a culinary nom de plume, if that wasn’t bracingly obvious – has serious kitchen chops, working everywhere from Brat and Scully St James to Kerridge’s before setting out on his own. With his high profile pop-ups now behind him, Whyte’s latest experiment is his most mature yet; he’s opened an actual restaurant. It’s less attention-grabbing, which, frankly, suits him.
Skinny Basque chillies with smoked almonds are a posuer’s padron pepper (and all the better for it)
The room is pure east London; a blank concrete and tiled canvas at the bottom of a warehouse-y London Fields newbuild, down an alleyway that gets spicy as soon as the sun goes down. Inside, the set up is simple verging on the basic – a handful of tables and a long L-shaped counter where you can watch the all-smiles Whyte serve forth whatever happens to interest him at that particular moment in time.
Our visit follows his whirlwind trip to San Sebastian. As a result, Whyte is cooking an entirely Basque-inspired menu for the next few weeks. By the time you make it there, he’ll be serving up something different entirely, but that’s all part of the fun.
Bowls of bog-standard baguette, as is the San Sebastian way, come first, perfectly sponge-like and crusty discs ready to be draped with creamy Cantabrian anchovies and roasted red peppers zingy with aged balsamic. A bar snack by any other name, skinny Basque chillies with smoked almonds and plenty of fleur de sel are a posuer’s padron pepper (and all the better for it).
Fried potatoes with grilled wild mushrooms and a jammy egg yolk is Whyte’s take on Ganbara pintxos bar’s legendary, Anthony Bourdain-pleasing dish, using spud cubes to bulk it out, which removes a touch of the shroomy intensity. Not to worry, as it’s followed by the full-throttle punch of charred cuttlefish partying on a base of the creamiest, thyme-iest pinto beans.
Mains are equally impressive; a roasted and barbecued turbot with olive oil and lemon that’s steep at £70 for one fish, but still £115 cheaper than the £185 turbot at Whyte’s alma mater Brat. If you’re looking for a significantly less extortionate take on this fanciest of flat fish, you know what to do.
As the evening goes on, food is no less impressive. Bone-in sirloin Txuleta steak with pickled guindilla butter is filthy good, as is a moody baked red prawn rice, heady with brown crab, and offering a salty smack in the chops that’s not unlike sitting on the shore of La Concha beach, mouth wide open as you prepare to gulp down the sea itself. The room is now pleasantly, pleasingly smokey, but fizzy Txakoli, funky Basque cider and chilled red cut through the delightful dankness.
The best though is saved for the end; burnt basque cheesecake, the flour removed from the traditional recipe to make it particularly sloppy and sensational, the crispy bits on the corners offering a potentially carcinogenic, almighty chewiness.
What happens when pop-up chefs grow up? If they’re Whyte Rushen, they just get better.
The vibe A simple east London space with one of the city’s hottest chefs in charge.
The food Whatever Whyte Rushen wants to serve you – cooked oysters one day, San Sebastian-style Basque cookery the next. Eclectic, to say the least.
The drink An exciting, innovative wine list which changes as regularly as the food menu.
Time Out tip Cheesecake will be on the menu in some form or another; order it.