The Sunday Times Magazine - UK (2022-05-01)

HOT 4 U

The Prince Arthur,

95 Forest Road,

London E8;

020 7249 1119,

theprincearthure8.com

D

on’t, as I did after a tip

from an Instagram pal,

google “hot for you”

and “Prince Albert”.

Some of the results

would put hairs on

your chest. Turns out

it’s the Prince Arthur

and Hot 4 U, but the

reality is no less ...

bracing. The duo

behind this former delivery-

only outfit, then pop-up and

now residency — all the

contemporary restaurant CV

boxes ticked right there —

describe their cooking as

“playful”. That’s one word for it.

Here are a few dishes from

recent, regularly changing

menus: raw squid, leche de

tigre, tomatoes; sprouted

greens, kombu cream, Meyer

lemon and charcoal; pink

mutton and salted yoghurt

clapshot; smoked beef tongue,

puntarelle and cobnuts fried

in chicken fat. They make their

own versions of Marmite and

Worcestershire sauce, and are

unafraid of pairing snails with

whisky and bone marrow, or

Basque cheesecake with

builder’s tea. One dessert, their

homage to a Wagon Wheel,

comes badged with a cartoon

that reads “F*** Boris” (profits

to the Ukrainian Red Cross). Do

you need a bit of a lie-down yet?

After whingeing about roast

dinners recently, I wanted to

challenge my own assumptions.

Maybe it was my still-prejudiced

subconscious that led me to

Hot 4 U, the unseen impetus of

confirmation bias. Instead of a

cosy old boozer in the country,

or sleek city-centre fleshpot with

beef whose parentage is printed

on the menu, I choose this —

East End London, possibly

deserving of hipster-hate (not

from me, guvs), unpolished,

showing no great signs of

gentrification. When we arrive

on a Sunday at 2pm there’s a

lone older chap nursing a pint,

cleaning materials sitting on

the bar, a Union Jack draped

in a corner, tattooed geezer

polishing glasses. The pal glares

at me: where have I dragged

him this time?

Sitting on stools at a wobbly

little table, the first signs that

it might not all be lager and

salt’n’vinegar crisps comes

when I ask the heavenly young

dame serving about wines by

the glass: “Macabeo, picpoul,

chardonnay, vinho verde,” she

rattles off, handing over a

single-sheet menu. We dutifully

order a roast — we could have

chosen aged beef joint or wild

garlic swede (east London,

remember). But instead we have

porchetta, the Italian-style

rolled and stuffed pork served

defiantly non-traditionally with

“all the trimmings”. So the meat

smells like festival day in Liguria

— garlic, fennel seeds and

rosemary — but comes with

a towering Yorkshire pudding,

crisp roast potatoes just like

mamma didn’t make and an

absolute greengrocer’s worth

of vegetables.

By 3pm the place is heaving,

the handful of outdoor tables

too. But there’s more on offer

than just crowd-pleaser roasts.

Ferociously savoury Cantabrian

anchovies are becoming a bit

of a cool bar-snack trope these

TA B L E TA L K●Marina O'Loughlin

An East End boozer where the

chefs are firing on all cylinders

days, to be eaten on good bread

with quantities of butter —

the only good use for unsalted,

ever. They’re an easy win:

decant from the tin and away

you go. But here it goes further:

interleaved with the slivers of

fish are equally delicate slivers

of roasted, peeled red pepper

(the sweet heat of Italian Corno

di Toro) — evidence of real

creativity and effort. They make

their own smoked butter too,

an almost too vivid sensory

assault. “Something smells like

cordite,” says the pal. Fair to say

it’s better on its own than with

the anchovies. My taste buds

are still in recovery.

And oysters, sold singly but

with some intriguing flourishes:

sour apple and ajo blanco;

Porchetta smells like festival

day in Liguria but comes with

a towering Yorkshire pudding

42 • The Sunday Times Magazine