Dabbous, 39 Whitfield Street W1T 2SF

Dabbous, 39 Whitfield Street W1T 2SF

23/07/2013

www.dabbous.co.uk

She said: There has been endless buzz around Dabbous and chatter about how hard it is to get a table. Given Dabbous is in our neighbourhood and a weak moment when time was a state of mind, I booked a table for two receiving an availability of three months in the future. So, what sort or restaurant deserves to make its customers wait three months for the privilege of dining there and would its reputation and the wait be justified? For me simply, no. Don’t get me wrong; Dabbous is a lovely, contemporary restaurant on an unassuming corner of Fitzrovia. The 4-course lunch set menu at £28 is a measured price for well fashioned food – the sort that offers small but pretty and creative presentations. First was a couple of layers of raw onions or ‘alliums’ in a chilled pine infusion; second a relatively straightforward but juicy corn on the cob with a salty-sweet butter and herb dressing; third a simple mackerel but with a delicious cucumber and herb accompaniment in a creamy, mayo-like sauce (I didn’t catch the fancy name for this one); and finally, to my disappointment, strawberries and ice cream for dessert – with not a chocolate in sight (fruit – even with ice cream has for me never constituted dessert). At the end of the meal I felt comfortable, content but not blown away. The food almost felt healthy (I suppose a good thing), the service was good, the setting – a cross between Scandinavian and industrial – created a modern yet intimate feel yet I couldn’t help but wonder what makes Dabbous better than so many other lovely places in London which have equally creative food in pleasant settings at fair prices? He noted there were around four empty tables over our 2-hour dining period…If you’re hungry and there’s a table – go; but if you have to wait more than a week I would go elsewhere.

He said: Think way back to history class, when you were 15 or 16, learning about the French Revolution. Remember? Yes, ok. Stop with the guillotine and the cakes for a minute. Right, good songs, but no: Russell Crowe wasn’t there. The whole thing was about rising expectations in the populace, and the ruling elite/government not being able to deliver fast enough. So it is with Dabbous. If you’re told that you have to wait months for a table, say OK, and actually remember the booking three months later and turn up, then you’re going to be  looking for more than if you’d pulled into the Little Chef on the way to Norwich. Unless you’re some baying wannabe, it’s simply never going to be good enough. And that really is the nut of the problem with Dabbous: it’s been murdered by the hype –every wagging tongue, every review adding to its agonizing death by a thousand cuts. The thing is that I actually liked Dabbous, despite being primed to hate it before even walking in, like you do about anywhere popular if you’re a snob like me. It’s a thoughtful place that hits the right balance every step of the way: small corner site but spacious, lots of windows but intimate, pared down design but cosy, big reputation but friendly, sophisticated but laid-back, food inventive but not wanky, etc. It was all really nice, good value, everything tasty, and I would gladly go back. But you can get all this elsewhere in London without having to plan months in advance. I’m thrilled for Dabbous that he’s basking in all this adulation, but this frenzy is all mass delusion. You would think that the Communards are coming and that fine food has been banned.