We almost took a table, and I’m glad we didn’t. The Palomar is the kind of place that’s built around its counter, the long kitchen bar that looks straight onto the pass, and when we were offered seats there for dinner, we took them. It turned out to be the whole evening. Our son perched between us watching the cooks move, the flames flickering, the bream coming out glazed and blistered. He was riveted, and so were we.
The food here is the cooking of modern Jerusalem, with the influences of Levant, North Africa, and a thread of southern Spain running through it. It isn’t shy about wandering further, either. There’s hamachi crudo with white soy on the same menu as the kubaneh, and somehow it all hangs together. It sounds a bit busy on paper but on the plate it’s confidently pulled off.
We started with the kubaneh, the bread The Palomar is known for, which arrives still warm in its tin. It’s buttery and rich, closer to brioche than anything else, and you can pull it apart with your fingers. Then came the seasonal pickles, sharp and bright, and a round of small plates we kept adding to.
The falafel came with hummus and pickled red onion. Do not miss the crispy layered potatoes with Aleppo salt, either. It’s as crispy as possible on the outside, and all delicate layers within. I’d go back for those alone.
The dish I keep thinking about is the sumac cucumbers with green tahini, crispy chilli, and almond. I know cucumbers sound basic, but they were the surprise of the night, cool and herby and crunchy all at once. I would order three.
The hamachi crudo with white soy and horseradish was the most restrained thing we ate, but we loved it. The charred octopus, set over butterbean hummus with a garlic tarka spooned on top, was my son’s favourite (the chef’s favourite too, we were told), and I can understand why. It was so incredibly tender and smoky, and the tarka pulled it all together.
The one that got away: the whole harissa-glazed sea bream. We watched it being fried and glazed at the pass all night, and we didn’t order it, and although it would have been too much food, still regretted it. Next time, it will be the first thing we order.
We did get the aged pork chop with charred grapes and a fino sherry jus, which was exactly the kind of big, savoury, slightly boozy plate you want after a lineup of much lighter things.
For dessert we had a candied walnut baklava and a pistachio ice cream sandwich you eat with your hands, which of course our son loved. (Honestly, so did I. There’s a real joy to a dessert with no cutlery.)
On drinks: the cocktails are well balanced and properly flavourful without being aggressive. The picante (1800 Tequila, Ancho Reyes Lime, jalapeño) had a genuine kick of heat, although not overpowering, and the Paloma was crisp and exactly right. We also drank a white wine, Possa, from the tiny winery in Cinque Terre. I have a real soft spot for because we visited the winemaker there a few years ago, and he was so kind to run down to the local bakery for fresh foccacia to serve at our tasting.
A note on where to sit. The kitchen bar is the move if you want energy and the full show, and it’s the seat The Palomar was really built for. There are tables too, and they’re lovely, just a touch quieter. For a fun night, I’d point you at the counter every time.
The Palomar, Rupert Street, Soho. Book ahead, ask for the counter, and start with the kubaneh and the octopus.
Note: The Palomar provided support for the reporting of this story.