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Chungdam, 35-36 Greek St, London W1D 5DL. Reservations are accepted via WhatsApp: 07548 925 636, chungdam.co.uk. Starters and sides £7.50 – £18.50; BBQ dishes £13.50 – £68; rice and noodles £14.50 – £16.50; dessert 38. Wine from £35 a bottle
It’s strange when the once painfully familiar becomes foreign; when you move, say, and what was once yours suddenly becomes someone else’s. After my parents died, we sold the family home in northwest London and the buyers cut down the magnificent horse chestnut in the front garden, the great tree whose canopy covered my childhood. They also paved the lawn to create more parking spaces. I wanted to be angry, but I knew it wasn’t mine to be angry anymore. I must reserve my anger for more deserving atrocities. I was later told that this building, where I had led a tumultuous, vodka-soaked adolescence, was now home to Buddhist monks and their caretakers. The house was gone with someone else. It must have been the alcohol.
I experienced the same horror at the building on the corner of Greek and Romilly Streets in London’s Soho district. It used to be home to Y Ming, a Chinese restaurant I owned written for in possibly tedious detail. I was a regular there and for many years I often didn’t even have to open the door to enter. They saw me coming and opened the door for me. This was my place. At the end of 2021 it closed and I mourned the huge bite that had been taken out of my psychogeography of the city. Eventually I noticed that the jade green facade was painted a pale cream. The building continued its life. And I had to move on.
In April, it opened as a Korean barbecue restaurant called Chung’dam, named after Cheongdam-dong a neighborhood of Seoul apparently famous for its restaurants and bars. Apparently I thought him dead to me. Then I looked at the menu. There was something about his tight, elegant serif typeface and the tightness of the proposal that drew me in. Previous experiences with Korean barbecue, the whole elaborate ritual of grilling chunks of animal for yourself at the table, made me view it as a noisy elbow-to-the-table affair. It’s always fueled by an energizing undercurrent of anxiety that, as a newcomer to the foxtrot or Civil War reenactment, you might not be getting it right. I recently reviewed Jinson in Coventry and there they used real spitting, flickering coals that left your hair smelling of your dinner. I liked that, but Chung’dam promises something very different. It delivers on that promise.
If you can get in, that is, because the door that was once forever open to me is now locked like a fine jeweler in Bond Street. Maybe they are watching my horror because it opens quickly. The policy immediately makes sense. It’s always been a tight spot, and with the staff moving around quickly tending to the grills, there really isn’t much room for overhanging bearded men like me to hang out inside. A locked door combined with an almost entirely Asian clientele who clearly know what they’re doing can make it all a bit disconcerting. Once entered, ceases to be so. In their quiet, concerned manner, the staff make it clear that they are glad you came.
So let’s heat up that built-in electric stove and get straight to the main event. The list of barbecue cuts includes sirloin and ribeye wagyu, the flashy Versace of the meat cabinet at equally flashy prices. It is there for those who are trying to impress themselves. They can be ignored. We have a portion of thin, fat-covered, marbled slices of Iberico pork shoulder for £18.50, sizzling and curling on the pan. The once carpeted floor is now a cream tile that matches the oatmeal walls, as the pile of roscha will, I imagine, get sticky over time from all the smoke. We have sweet and salty garlic and chili pastes to slather the pork with and crisp lettuce leaves to wrap them in. The best part is that we have our waiter standing by us unobtrusively for a few minutes and doing things with precise, controlled gestures until she concludes that everything is as it should be. What could have been a source of anxiety has now simply turned into dinner. Firm, pale fistfuls of enoki mushroom and thick, creamy Chinese cabbage leaves are added to the grill, where they are seared and caramelized.
We have salted boneless, skinless chicken thigh pieces that char quickly, and thin slices of soy-marinated short ribs. They cloud the air above our table with intense deliciousness. I live for clouds of flavor over my table. Obviously, it’s great fun, but unlike previous Korean barbecue experiences, it also requires little maintenance, except for the slippery metal sticks that challenge our dexterity. We’re getting there eventually.
All this comes with fierce accessories. Their kimchi manages to be both spicy and delicate, crimson slices of cabbage falling on top of each other like the bulging pages of a damp phone book. There’s a plate of their own crunchy, green pickles, including asparagus and cylinders of bouncy okra, standing out. We have a healthy salad of radicchio, spring onion and sesame, with pearl squid sticks. There is a dark red dipping sauce on the side gochujang, Korea’s fermented, chili-infused gift to the world. There’s a sweet soy and sesame oil salad of shredded spring onions and a plate of thinly sliced, battered and then deep-fried beef that feels like it came from a Friday night down the Chipito. This is a welcome guest. Carbohydrates are supplied by bibimbapa warm rice bowl with the sunshine promise of a raw egg yolk delicately placed over strips of raw marinated beef, all cooked against the hot stone bowl as it was mixed for us.
Chungdam styles itself as an upscale version of the sizzling tableside barbecue places you can find across Shaftesbury Avenue, and is priced to match. The wine list starts with a bargain New Zealand Chardonnay for £35 and then wanders in search of rich people who crave Montrachet and Nuits-Saint-Georges. Regardless, you should walk away feeling like the bill lives up to the attention to detail. And your hair won’t smell, so there’s that. For dessert there is a rather dense chocolate chateau. Maybe go somewhere else. After all, you’re in a neighborhood where there’s a promise of good cake or ice cream on almost every corner. They unlock the door and we go to look for her. Yes, this particular part of Soho has moved on. It’s not mine anymore. It belongs to others. But it’s in good hands.
News bites
The latest annual survey by food and drink analytics company Lumina Intelligence has reported that the UK foodservice market will see growth of almost 3% this year. That would bring it to a total value of just £100bn, which is 8.2% above its pre-pandemic value. The seemingly optimistic forecast, however, hides a darker story. What they call the “service-led sector,” industry jargon for the types of restaurants this column covers, is still very much struggling and remains below where it was in 2019.
The husband-and-wife team behind Korean restaurant Bokman, which opened in Bristol in 2019, are to open a second establishment in the city’s Redlands area. Kyu Jeong Jeon and Duncan Robertson met while working for L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon in Paris and also spent time cooking in Korea. Their menus include Beef Ribs Braised in Sweet Soy, Kimchi Fried Rice with Fried Egg and Roast Pork, and Spicy Braised Tofu with King Oysters and Chinese Vegetables (bokman.co.uk).
Sky News reported that Minor Hotels, the huge multinational hospitality group based in Bangkok, which left control of the Wolseley Group from its founder Jeremy King in 2022, has called in consultants to advise on cost matters. AlixPartners will apparently review the entire business, which includes Brasserie Zedel, Delaunay and the newly opened Manzi’s. The original Wolseley was opened in 2003 by King and his business partner Chris Corbin and became the cornerstone of a successful London empire before falling into financial trouble as the industry emerged from Covid. Meanwhile, King’s latest venture, a pub called Park in London’s Bayswater, is due to open in a few weeks.
Email Jay at jay.rayner@observer.co.uk or follow him on X @jayrayner1
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