Chungdam, 35-36 Greek Street, London W1D 5DL. Bookings are accepted via WhatsApp: 07548 925 636, chungdam.co.ukStarters and sides £7.50 – £18.50; Barbecue dishes £13.50 – £68; Rice and noodles £14.50 – £16.50; Desserts 38. Bottle of wine from £35
It’s a strange feeling when something that was once painfully familiar becomes foreign, as when you move house and what was once yours suddenly becomes someone else’s. After my parents died, we sold our house in north-west London, but the buyers cut down the magnificent horse chestnut tree in the front garden, the crown of which had been my childhood tree, and paved over the lawn to make room for more parking. I wanted to be furious, but I knew it was not my place to be. I should save my anger for a worse time. I was later told that the building where I had spent my tumultuous, vodka-soaked youth was now the home of a Buddhist monk and his carers. The house had passed into someone else’s hands. Perhaps the booze was to blame.
I felt a similar dismay about the building on the corner of Greek and Romilly Streets in London’s Soho. It once housed Y Ming, a Chinese restaurant that I’ve written about in perhaps annoying detail. I was a regular there, and for years I often managed to get in without the door having to be opened. The waiter saw me coming and opened the door for me. It was my place. In late 2021, the place closed, and I lamented the loss of a big bite from the city’s psychogeography. Then I noticed the jade-coloured facade had been painted a pale cream. The building was living on. I too had to move on.
It opened in April as a Korean barbecue restaurant called Chung’dam, named for the Cheongdam-dong district of Seoul, famous for its restaurants and bars. Of course, I assumed it was dead. Then I looked at the menu. I was drawn in by the taut, elegant serif typeface and the simplicity of the food on offer. My previous experience had led me to think of Korean barbecue as something to eat noisily, with elbows on the table, with all the fine rituals of grilling your own pieces of animal meat at the table. It’s always fueled by an energizing undercurrent of anxiety that you might not be getting it right, like someone attending a foxtrot or a Civil War reenactment for the first time. I reviewed Jinseon in Coventry a while back, which used real spattering, flickering charcoal and left me smelling like dinner in my hair. I liked it, but Chung’dam promises to be something entirely different. And it delivers on that promise.
That is, if you can get in, because the door that once always opened for me is now locked like a Bond Street jewellery store. Perhaps they sensed my disappointment, as the door slid open quickly. This policy makes sense immediately: it’s always a tight space, and with staff moving around quickly to tend to the grill, there’s little room for a man with a beard and swagger like me to wander around. The locked door, combined with the nearly all-Asian clientele who clearly know what to do, can make it a little intimidating. Once inside, it’s not. The staff are quiet and polite, and make it clear they’re glad you’re there.
So let’s heat up that built-in electric hotplate and get straight to the main event. The list of cuts for the barbecue includes filet and rib-eye Wagyu beef. This is the butcher’s fancy Versace, with an equally fancy price tag. This is for those who are trying to impress themselves. These can be ignored. We ordered a thin, fatty, marbled Iberian pork shoulder for £18.50, which curls sizzling on the hot plate. The once-carpeted floor has been replaced with cream-coloured tiles that match the oatmeal walls. We thought the shag pile would have gotten sticky over time from the wafting smoke. There’s a sweet-and-sour garlic-and-chili paste to smear on the pork, and a crisp lettuce leaf to encase it. Best of all is the presence of a waiter who sits beside us for a few minutes, working with precise, restrained gestures, watching over us until he decides all is well. What could have been a source of anxiety is now just dinner. A firm, pale handful of enoki mushrooms and thick, creamy stemmed leaves of Chinese cabbage are thrown on the grill, charring and caramelizing.
We had some salty boneless skinless chicken thighs that burned quickly, and some thin slices of soy-marinated short ribs. These wafted intense flavors onto the table. I live for clouds of flavor wafting across the table. This is great fun, of course, but unlike my previous Korean barbecue experiences, it also requires very little maintenance. However, the metal chopsticks are slippery and test your dexterity. Eventually, we got there.
All this is accompanied by heady accents: kimchi is at once spicy and delicate, slices of bright red-flecked cabbage slumped over one another like the bulging pages of a damp phone book. A plate of crisp pickled greens catches the eye, as do stalks of asparagus and cylinders of springy okra. Pearly squid sticks are served alongside a rich salad of radichio, spring onion and sesame seeds, with a deep-red dipping sauce made from gochujang, Korea’s gift to the world of fermented food and peppery goodness. A salad of julienned spring onions in a sweet soy and sesame oil dressing, and a plate of shredded, battered and deep-fried beef look like they’ve wandered in from a chip shop on a Friday night. A welcome guest. Carbohydrates are replenished with bibimbap. Bibimbap is a bowl of warm, sun-kissed rice topped with strips of marinated raw beef and delicately placed raw egg yolk, which is mixed as it is cooked in a hot stone bowl.
Chundam is styled as a sophisticated version of the rickety tabletop barbecue joint across Shaftesbury Avenue, and the prices are accordingly. The wine list starts with a decent New Zealand Chardonnay for £35, and moves on to more well-heeled wines with a penchant for Montrachet and Nuits-Saint-Georges. But you leave feeling that the price is worth the attention to detail. And it helps that your hair doesn’t stink. For dessert, there’s a rather rich chocolate gateau. You’d probably be better off going elsewhere – this is, after all, a district that promises good cakes and gelato on almost every corner. The waiter unlocks the door, and we set off in search. Yes, this corner of Soho has moved on. It’s no longer mine. It’s someone else’s. But it’s in good hands.
Breaking News
The UK dining out market is expected to grow by almost 3% this year, according to the latest annual survey by food and drink analytics company Lumina Intelligence, taking its size to around £100 billion, 8.2% higher than before the pandemic. But this optimistic forecast hides a darker shadow: the “service-led” sector, the industry jargon for the kind of restaurants featured in this column, is still struggling and remains at a lower level than in 2019.
The husband-and-wife team behind Korean restaurant Bokman, which opened in Bristol in 2019, are set to open a second location in the city’s Redlands neighbourhood. Kyu Jeong Jeong and Duncan Robertson met while working at L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon in Paris, and have also cooked in Korea. Dishes on the menu include braised beef spare ribs in sweet soy sauce, kimchi fried rice with fried egg and roast pork, and spicy braised tofu with king oyster and Chinese vegetables.Bokuman).
Sky News reports that Minor Hotels, the huge Bangkok-based multinational hospitality group that took over control of The Wolseley Group from founder Jeremy King in 2022, has brought in consultants to advise on cost issues. AlixPartners will be reviewing the entire business, which includes Brasserie Zédel, Delone and the newly opened Munzies. The original Wolseley was opened in 2003 by King and business partner Chris Corbin and was the cornerstone of a successful London empire, but fell into financial difficulties as the industry recovered from the Covid-19 pandemic. Meanwhile, King’s latest venture, a brasserie called The Park in London’s Bayswater, is due to open within weeks.
To email Jay email jay.rayner@observer.co.uk or follow him on X translator
