Impala is a rare beast, a restaurant like no other that utterly defies classification. Six months on from opening, it is still almost impossible to get a table at the venue – your reviewer had his finger on the buzzer the moment new slots became available – despite it boasting 90 covers. There is a frenetic energy about the restaurant. Think big, bold and buzzing as well as crazy, charming and chaotic.
Every venue has an origin story, but Impala has many. The chef is Egyptian born but has spent time working not only in Cairo, but also Istanbul, Athens and Tokyo before making London his base. From Smoking Goat onwards, Meedu Saad has continued to push boundaries, fusing flavours from across the globe in unconventional ways – and mostly pulling it off.
If there is any commonality across his ventures, then it is the embrace of open fire when preparing dishes. There is a lot of flame and a lot of smoking too. To control and exploit heat in the manner that Saad does takes verve and experience. The signature duck dish at Impala says it all. The team initially purchased specialised duck presses to optimise the meat. They hung above the open fire. Refinements to the process have led to the presses being abandoned, but the duck still tastes mighty good. It was rich and smoky, smothered in a truly memorable combination of molasses and greengage, marrying sweet and sour.
Rewind. Diners enter a semi-industrial space in the heart of Soho. There is a bar to the left, countertop dining to the right and a cavernous dining area that expands backwards. Staff are constantly on hand to reassure. They need to, since to suggest that the menu requires navigation would be an under-statement. Even an experienced diner such as your reviewer was baffled by the terms ‘ftira’ (leavened Maltese bread) and ‘mechouia’ (a smoked Tunisian salad). There were many more too. How large was each dish? How might we need? A lot of debate anyway, before we could finally relax. Naturally, we were pushed to over-order. In between Impala missed a trick by forgetting to bring us a second round of cocktails.
Somehow, the venue manages to get away with it. The fun lies in the experience, the novelty and not quite knowing what might come next. Plates inevitably arrive as soon as they’re ready, with over-crowding on the table at some moments contrasting with an absolute absence at others. Almost all of what we ate was very good, and much of it beautifully presented, as the picture attests. Beyond the duck, standout for this reviewer was an incredibly moreish beef tartare and a superbly executed tomato salad. The former combined delicacy with spice drive; the latter spoke of freshness and flavour, yielding a lovely tang of cumin and salt. Others praised the grilled squid and also the freekeh salad.
Drinks too were excellent, from house martinis at the outset through to a suitably eclectic wine list, which married edgy classics (a white blend from the Alto Adige made by the excellent Terlano) through to the niche (chilled Valencian red). Be prepared though to leave with a depleted wallet. A parade of different drinks and dishes sees the digits mount up. But it is worth it. Every city needs an Impala.