For those unaware, ‘bubala’ is a Yiddish term of endearment, roughly translated as darling. No surprise then that the restaurant is a homage to Levantine food, located appropriately in east London’s former Jewish quarter, yards from Petticoat Lane. Such has been the success of Bubala that its backers have recently opened a second outlet in Soho. Securing a table there is almost impossible currently, but the original venue provides a wonderful insight into what can be expected.
Blink and you might almost miss the original Bubala, given its innocuous signage and location between two shuttered shops on Commercial Street. Step inside though, and it’s almost as if one were in Tel Aviv. There’s a much more down to earth feel here than in the slicker Palomar, for example. The restaurant probably only holds 30 covers but all available space was occupied when my dining comrade and I visited on a recent weekday evening. Due to demand we were seated on stools at the counter and had our original booking pushed back by 15 minutes. Although this was not a problem – since we were pre-dinner drinking nearby – it was still a pleasing gesture to be offered a complementary glass of fizz on arrival.
Counter seating has many benefits. You’re in the thick of it, able to observe both the chefs and servers at work as well as taking a broad-eyed perspective on the rest of the restaurant. Everyone indeed appeared to be having fun. A continued procession of small dishes to every guest certainly helped. Bubala’s angle is only to offer a set vegetarian (or vegan) menu. Yes, you read that correctly, the venue is gloriously meat-free. Being married to a vegetarian, your reviewer is well used to the joys of vegetables, but a night at Bubala would probably soften even the strongest of sceptics. Offering a set menu is also a nifty idea in these straightened times (Bubala is far from the first to do so) since it helps control costs effectively. Ten small sharing dishes at £38/ head represents a very competitive proposition too.
First up were pickles. My comrade’s starting point was that “you have to be Jewish or Korean” to enjoy the fun of fermentation. Fortunately I tick one of these boxes. Although my comrade met neither criteria, she was eventually swayed, particularly by the cucumber. Next came hummus (pictured) and while this has now become a middle class household staple, when done well, you really know about it. The Bubala version was fluffy and comforting with just the right balance of fat and zing. Burnt butter always helps. It would be possible to wax similarly lyrical about the remaining eight offerings. Other stand outs were fried aubergine with zhoug and date syrup, fennel with a saffron caramel and rose harissa, and potato latkes topped with chilli. The only fail was an overly sweet, heavy and unbalanced block of halloumi topped with honey. A bottle of orange wine from the Rhone (chosen from a novel and not entirely conventional wine list) helped wash everything down comfortably. With much to like about Bubala, tell your friends – vegetarian and omnivores alike – and book your table early.