Brunch draws the crowds - yummies on week day mornings; local creatives at lunchtimes and well-heeled young professionals (who might have been called Yuppies back in the day ) who have moved into the area, during the last couple of year. Our friendly manager shared that property prices in the area have been amongst the most rapidly rising in London in recent years. Plenty of mouths to feed then.
In the evening, the menu fills out with a range of snacks (olives, spiced nuts and pickled aubergines and more); breads and sides to accompany the fish, vegetable and meat mains. They push the whole sharing plates concept, of which i've never really been a fan, but which i'll tolerate if it means I can get my fork into more meals than my own.
The menu isn't for the indecisive. Not overly long, but packed with so many unusual flavours that I and my dinner guest, PR lady, fell upon lovely restaurant manager for guidance. I was also borderline 'hangry' - never good.
A glass of Cava (refreshing not to be offered Prosecco for a change) and an appetiser later, the edge had worn off. Our plate of Makdoos - sounding Scottish not remotely - which was tiny tangy, oil cured aubergines was a soft-centred flavour explosion.
It was closely followed by the cornbread we'd ordered - a cakey-slice partnered by with tiny pots of zhoug and of honey butter - and a bonus flatbread - hot, rolled and laden with thyme and honey. Both were good. The flatbread won hands down though.
Sweet, earthy salt baked winter beets with whipped feta and tart pomegranate/honey dressing was pretty and felt the sanctimonious option after all those carbs.
Hake in za'atar butter was a masterclass in fish cookery, Shiny white, tender flesh was a perfect foil for crunchy roast chickpeas and a sweet red pepper sauce.
With little room for pudding, it wasn't a huge problem that the list was short. All paid tribute to the restaurant's Middle Eastern/Jewish influences. Chocolate bark; New York cheesecake - the NY deli tribute - and two ice creams. We chose the smoothly creamy black sesame ice cream with crunchy sesame brittle. Sold. Once that had been eaten, even if they'd walked up to me with one of their Nutella babka loaves and forcefed me a hunk of it, i'd have fought back.
Entertainment came from both sides - the busy chef at the pass to our left, managing to serve up every plate pretty well single-handedly - and to our right, a group of young people who might have been called yuppies once upon a time cooing over their tiny poodle puppy.
The Good Egg totally lived up to its rep. Casually served flavours that will stay with you.
