No 67 (Restaurant)

Best for: bottles of wine for under £30; alfresco brunches; post-gallery dinners; outstanding coffee.

Great: one-sheet printed menu, with few options, that smells of fresh ideas.

You seem like a nice person. Even though this is only our second sentence together, I feel that you’re trustworthy. You’ve taken the leap, perhaps not for the first time, into the peculiarly fragrant world of Fluid London, looking for guidance, so chances are you’re quite charming. You probably remember all your friends’ birthdays and rinse all your recycling before bin night. I bet you smell like elderflowers as well. You’re nice. You’re one of us.

So, with that in mind, let’s do this: No 67 restaurant is lovely and you’ll most definitely like it too. Yes, restaurant reviews are subjective; based on one person’s opinion of a moment that was a mere fraction of the restaurant’s entire lifespan; but trust me, you will like No 67 restaurant, because you’re one of us.

There, it’s been said. Now it’s yours to do nice things with. Go on, give Sam a call. You haven’t seen Sam for ages. You guys should hook up, have a natter, drink some hibiscus and honey Prosecco fizz, eat some amazingly tender grilled leg of lamb, listen to subdued classic vintage pop and soul, catch up. You’ll love it, because you’re one of us.

Sam will like the view from the bay window of the huge dominant tree and the iron railings outside because it’s strangely reminiscent of your school days. You’ll agree and suggest it might also be because the restaurant is situated in an art gallery; you and Sam took art together at school. Or perhaps the book shop attached to the restaurant reminds you of the school library. Or maybe the greeny-grey walls remind you of Mr Geddy’s drab history class. Although saying that, you much prefer this room. And you don’t recall there being quite so many girls in that classroom, either. “Did we go to an all-girl school?” you’ll ask. Sam will find this find funny, because Sam is one of us.

Sam will invariably then tell Giles and Sally, who you met at that dinner party once, about No 67. Giles and Sally will then arrange to meet their gay friends, Brandon and Larry, for dinner at No 67 restaurant. Brandon and Larry can only do Wednesdays to Saturdays, which is handy, because No 67 is only open for dinner Wednesdays to Saturdays.

Giles will like the glorious back garden (which these photos simply don’t do justice) with its tiny tables and early morning breakfast/brunch vibe (when the sun slams the brickwork). Larry will like the alfresco section out the front with its glittering tea lights, probably because Giles said he liked the rear version. Sally will like the salty smoked cod roe starter with fabulous dressing, and Brandon, the French linguist who is usually a fussy eater, will like the pork and duck rillettes with piquant cornichons - mini gherkins to those lacking French linguists skills - because he likes the way they play ball with the Sauvignon de Touraine 2010. This chummy bunch are august and eminent choosers, are they not? They should be; they’re all one of us.

You see where this is going.

See, people like Larry, Sally, you, me and us, we belong in restaurants like No 67. This is a destination restaurant for “our sort”: nice people. It doesn’t matter if the restaurant is a pain in the arse to get to for everyone except the residents of Peckham, just get there. If not for Giles and Sally, then do it for the skate wing, the richly sauced fish dish with buttery samphire that sounds a bit like a bad 80s rock group or an all-girl roller derby team. Much like Sally and Giles, it was tricky to negotiate but ultimately provided several minutes of entertainment. Unlike Sally and Giles, it was commendable at only £12.

This low level lit, cosy front room of a restaurant feels like someone’s lounge. We ate dinner where the TV should’ve been. Had it been there, no doubt it would’ve been tuned to More 4 or BBC 2. Even the toilet was under the stairs. If this really is someone’s home, the hosts are certainly welcoming. All young, chilled, and shunning their Hoxton/Dalston/Shoreditch tendencies for a much quieter ‘south of the river’ aura. They seem permanently on the brink of placing a hand on your shoulder to offer a “make yourself at home” at any minute.

The large, gold-lit conservatory of this home provides a select venue for birthday and/or engagement celebration parties of around 20 people, which means you can invite all those nice people mentioned above, and maybe even us too, if we’re lucky. A hidden gem of a restaurant for people like you, people like us. And I mean that not in culty - that’s ‘culty’ - way either....read more