With a memorable moniker like John the Unicorn, there's a lot to live up to. No matter what the experience- positive or otherwise- it will be etched in the memories of customers, forever associated with a silly name. Branded as a 'hangout' that extolls local breweries, serves its own Volden craft beer and boasts a newly opened restaurant upstairs, we weren't entirely sure what to expect from John; was it a hellishly trendy bar, an exorbitant gastropub or a serious eatery?
A behemoth on Rye Lane in Peckham Rye, it isn't exactly hard to miss John the Unicorn- marked with brazen signage, the venue isn't East London 'obscure chic' or at all understated. Walking through the bar, the energy was electric- music ranging from The Pixies to LCD Soundsystem flooded through the speakers and the entire downstairs floor was heaving. It's a vast open space, sporting a décor that vacillates between industrial and quirky, somehow managing to achieve an unpretentious equilibrium.
Moving upstairs to the restaurant, we were surrounded by a few groups, but tables were amply spaced. The lively atmosphere from downstairs was still palpable- the music and lighting contributed to a fun and casual dining ambiance. Our server was an approachable ex-East Londoner new to the area. The upstairs menu centred on small plates that were designed to be shared. Advised to order 2-3 dishes each, we instead opted to try almost everything, clearly under some strange and mystical spell.
The dishes arrived and we were immediately struck by the quality, presentation and vibrancy of each one. We had discovered the source of John the Unicorn's mystical lure: Ben Mulock, former chef at the celebrated Opera Tavern in Covent Garden, and his small team. The kitchen was producing some of the finest small plates that I've seen in London. They were astonishingly affordable- ranging from £4 to £9 each- and delivered in generous portions.
The showstopper plates were the sticky chicken heart skewers, served on a white bean puree. A trio of dense meaty morsels lightly charred, giving a crispy bite while retaining a moist centre. With a little persuasion, my boyfriend- usually squeamish about eating liver and heart- sampled and approved. We then scuffled over the smoked haddock arancini, uniformly sculpted balls paired with a zesty dip that lent a creamy sharpness to the smokiness of the fish.
I was loath to part with any of the charred smoked octopus, set on crushed chickpeas, capers and pickled pepper- it was gloriously rendered on the plate, a feast of colours and textures for the eyes. The octopus was cooked to perfection with crispy, charred edges and a squidgy interior that melted in the mouth. The meatiness of the tentacles played nicely with the coarsely mashed chickpeas and the sweet/acidic profile of the pickled red peppers. A well-executed seafood dish inspired by Mediterranean flavours is my own idea of enchantment.
The pork shoulder, served with apple, baby gem lettuce and potato, was also a triumph. Another dish that caused some jostling of forks, the tender, slow-cooked pulled pork was balanced with sharp tang of green apple and tossed with cubes of golden sautéed potato- a tried and tested combination of flavours that survived even our high scrutiny.
Now approaching a gastronomic overdose, I was nonetheless tempted by the offering of a 'unicorn sundae' because- up until this point- the meal had been an intensely serious business. Yearning for a full-on, glaringly kitsch, glitter cannon treatment, I was disappointed to find the dish arrived as advertised: three scoops of ice cream and a spattering of chocolate cake pieces. The peanut butter ice cream was the highpoint, but even a sparing touch of coloured balls didn't evoke the child-like joy that I hoped for. My boyfriend's gin poached rhubarb was excellent, however- I immediately reverted to being an adult after a taste.
To mince my mythology- yes, I know that unicorns don't fly- John the Unicorn is a restaurant with wings. We enjoyed the casual atmosphere, pleasant service and the quality of the food. The food alone is worth a visit, but the bar downstairs is equally as brilliant. Bringing a touch of magic to Rye Lane, you'll be hearing a lot of buzz about this whimsy spot. read more