In which it’s Shepherd’s Bush, but not as Lydia Manch knew it…
The Hoxton rolling into W12 a while back was big news among my west London childhood friends, Chet’s sitting like a pillared and pastel-hued jewelbox at its centre.
Growing up around here, this was the stretch of Shepherd’s Bush Roundabout we’d come to for exclusively one of two things: questionable nights at Hammersmith Palais or questionable nights at the busiest Walkabout in the city. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, and all of those times were chaotic. Chet’s opening here, with its nonchalant California Coastal interiors, delicate stemware and Instagram-famous onions, was confirmation that those times are truly past.
Sunrise, sunset. I went a couple of times in their first year, and was able to overlook the complete lack of £2.50 Snakebites on the menu – RIP Walkabout pricing – enough to be very into it. This area’s always had outstanding restaurants, has done since I was a kid, but they’ve not historically been the kind of restaurants that come wielding big pageantry and viciously good martinis.
Now I’m back here with a Chet’s first-timer, wondering if I’ve hyped too hard to Larry in the run-up: did this have to be your endz, once upon a time, for Chet’s to feel like a seductive novelty now?
The doubt evaporates pretty fast while we’re still pre-drinking at Chet’s Bar, a new addition last autumn, with the arrival of the short rib tacos, stacked into a tower of stickily-soft meat, kimchi and crema – rich, sour, hot, and coriander-fragrant in one punch, and a bite-size reminder of what the Chet’s menu’s all about.
An LA import, Chet’s is the first London venue for Kris Yenbamroong after his Night + Market quartet in the US – three in LA, plus the obligatory one you open in Vegas when you reach certified household name status. Now helmed by chef Carolyn Or, the London menu’s built around Thai-Americana – high-spice comfort food with a bit more swagger than your average diner and a touch more borderline rowdiness than your average hotel restaurant.
Probably no single restaurant gets to take credit for London slowly, over recent years, retiring the idea of ‘fusion’ being a dirty word, but at a minimum Chet’s was one of the frontrunners taking great advantage of the vibe shift, Thai flavours jostling with US-diner tropes on the menu: Dirty Fries topped with pad kra pao and cheese sauce, fried chicken sandwiches punchy with Thai basil-aioli, sai uah in the brunch rolls.
Could not have predicted that Shepherd’s Bush would one day have a destination onion, but here it is: a spicier take on the North America-beloved blooming allium, huge, showstopping, deep-fried and cut to look like a flower, to be torn and dipped in ranch or sweet chilli. This one I could take or leave as a dish, but as a path to soaking up some of those inroads we made into the cocktail list it’s strategically immaculate.
And that cocktail list’s pretty immaculate, too, with a fantastic Thai-spiced, lip-numbingly hot twist on a Caesar, and a mix of elegantly balanced, Thai-slanted signature serves along with a couple that sound like a student union rep was let gleefully loose on the R&D – think the four-person Thaiami Vice sharer, mashing together two spirits, four fruits, and champagne.
Although I haven’t test-driven the spring-break allure of the Thaiami Vice (yet), the ideal path through the menu does need to hit the things that make it specifically Chet’s: the cheerful swagger of the pineapple fried rice with optional bacon, laced with nam pla prik and served in a halved, hollowed-out pineapple; the smoky-fermented richness of the BBQ short rib in pineapple soy. And maybe their laab gai and papaya salad, because although these are pretty straight-up deliveries of the classics and not that unique to Chet’s, sometimes you just want a laab singing with lime and heat, and this is a pretty great one.
By the time the onion’s just crumbs and memories it’s late. Larry pries himself out at the last possible minute to make his last train home, talking about return visits, wondering if we have time for one for the road, and there are enough people still here – dates murmuring to each other at the bar, groups getting a little loud in the corner – that the evening still feels rolled out, spaciously, ahead. And I am reassured to know that in that this one specific way – in Chet’s frisson of exuberant chaos bubbling beneath the surface, of who-knows-where-the-night-might-take-you permissiveness – the spirit of Shepherd’s Bush of old lives on.
Chet’s at The Hoxton Shepherd’s Bush. 65 Shepherd’s Bush Green, London, W12 8QE. For more information, and for bookings, please visit www.chetsrestaurant.co.uk.
