WASTENO

The kitchen at Silo.

Facing page: jars of garum seasoning

34 FT.COM/MAGAZINE MARCH7/82020

Silo claims to be the

world’s firstzero-waste

restaurant. But, asks

TimHayward,can food

be both sustainable and

delicious?Photographs

byJasper Fry

35

“Important ”restau rants have

somethinginc ommon–theyask

questions.FerranAdrià at El Bulli

asked:“What ifwe ignor ed the

tired rulesofc ookingand used

science?” HestonBlumenthal

atThe FatDuck took itfurther,

asking: “What ifwe ex pandedthe

experienc einto all thesenses?”

René RedzepiatN omaasks: “What

if we focus intenselyonthe local and

seasonal?”For Fergus Henderson

at St John, it is:“Whatifweuse the

wholebeast?”Ifq uestions arethe

sign, then Silo mightwell be an

ImportantRestaurant.

Recentl yrelocatedfrom

Brighton toacanalside warehouse

in Hackney Wick in London, Silo

has the scale andgravity ofaplace

of worship, thoughIdoubt they

would be comfortable with the

comparison.It’s post-industrial

and gritty too. Everythingthe diner

sees or interacts withiss omehow

recycledorr eusedmaterial ,from

NOT...

chairs to plates, but ther e’sno

sens eofany scrappy“makedo

andmend”.The interior isby

Nina Woodcrof tofN ina+Co, a

designerrenownedfor her focus

on sustainability.The iron-beamed

roofis hungwithscarletnets

holding slabs of feltedwool, forming

asort of industrialcloudscape that

insulatesthe space and absorbs

sound.The tables aremadeby

local craftsmanJanHendzel from

sustainable ash, with tops of

recycled plast ic packaging.They

would notlook out of placeina

desig nmuseum oraModernist

cathedral. Some of thestools and

table sint he bar area aregrown

rather than made–mycelium,

thevegetative partofa fungus,is

trainedintomoulds, then baked

to harden intoalightweight foam-

likestructurethat is hard-wearing,

robust and fully compostable.

Doug McMaster,the chef-

patron,takes us throughtheprep

kitchen.Miso,shiso,kombucha

and ferments and cultureswithout

formalnamesquietlygoabout their

business in demijohnsand wooden

trays.Thereisnoplasti cwraptobe

seen. Wine comesfromavintner

alittle furtherupthe canal,who

decants from largetanks into

reusablebottles.McMaster opens

alargefridge toreve al astack of

brandedplasticpots of crabmeat.

These, heexplains,arrivedfrom

asupplier that morning,not in

the large container therestaurant

supplies,but in the producer’sown,

brandedsingl e-use tubs.Theywill

allbesent back.Heexplains,with

akind ofweary regret ,how often

zero waste can mean “refusing”

before considering “reusing”

or “r ecycling”.

We emergefromthe backstage

spacesintothe kitchen, built in

aV-shape, pushing out into the

dining area likethe pr ow of aship.

Everything heretakes place in

full sightofg uests ,many of whom

sit at thecounter,talkin gtot he

chefs as theyexplain their cooking

proces ses. McMaster can takea

centralposition and effectively

overseeevery station,adesign

feature,hesheepishlyadmits,

he nicked from an Imperial Star

Destroyer.Thereisa small firepit

and several induction slabs set into

counters, but this is clearlyavery

well-policedtubs-and-tweezers

environment–hushed, controlled

and reve rent; not loud,clashing,

kinetic and aggressive.

There is nothingint he kitchens

or public spaces that reinforcesany

stereotypeofs hambolichippiedom.

In fac t, thereismorethat

referencesthe tropes of fine-dining

restaurants. Yeteverything,every

tinydetail is entirely on-message,

and that message is zerowaste.

McMaster is compact,calmand

intense. He speaks directlybut

without arrogance.There’s little▶

FT.COM/MAGAZINE MARCH7/82020 35