It was some two decades ago, but the words still cut like a fresh wound. Sally Abé was toiling as a young woman in the kitchens of a well-known upscale restaurant in the centre of London. They were flung at her, she tells me, as a throw-away remark, from a busy chef-proprietor grappling with the stresses of a busy service; come clean-down, they would doubtless have forgotten them. But Abé has worn them heavily in the years that followed, determined to prove that mighty chef wrong.
“You’ll never amount to anything”, was what she was told. And even now as she preps before service, perfects and dispenses dishes at the pass, she works to dispel that prophecy. She does this at Teal, a small neighbourhood place in Hackney, on a stretch of Wilton Way where hospitality is allowed to spill out onto the pavements. In summer, it is a charming haven for food lovers.
This is where Abé, having headed up a number of posh kitchens in London and the Cotswolds, now has her own thing. The exterior view, revealing short linen curtains, has a whiff of French bistro about it; inside there’s a smattering of tables and a tiny bar. The restaurant’s name suggests an acute attitude to provenance (this isn’t just any old duck); its wooden panelling is painted an appropriate blue-green hue.
The scene is cosy, protective almost; I’m imagining a little place in provincial France in the Second World War, where one might have gathered while resisting the worst efforts of marauding Germans. Yet the menu is distinctly English, Edwardian even – a culinary vision of that era through rose-tinted spectacles.
The food is so good it mocks the past, as Abé takes the likes of classic savouries and pimps them to heavenly levels. Locket’s savoury is a bite of rich cheese on crunchy sourdough toast, tempered by a long slice of pickle. Devils on horseback (prunes wrapped in bacon), are dark and voluptuous, presented on mini steel pins and, once tasted, will ruin your hokey Christmas attempts forever. Angels on horseback (oysters in bacon, cooked in batter), are similarly sublime, as are Scotch eggs made with brawn. Forget those starring black pudding or venison, or even the finest original presentation – these are deeply rich, the egg gooey, and served with a dollop of homemade brown sauce. I cycled for an hour and a half to get to Teal, and just for these opening bites it was worth every pedal stroke.
Starters came at us like a fresh breeze. There was chilled pea and mint soup, and what might have been a historical horror of a gloopy seasonal glut was instead a creamy and fresh paean to an English summer. It came with a chip made of chickpea, light and wholesome, spread with goat’s curd – a nifty touch. This arrived alongside a naughty dish of what they call “knife and fork bacon”. A thin wedge of syrupy pork chop (a cleaner version of the outrageous US “clothesline bacon”), tempered with some slices of onion, bearing a thin strip of crackling on top.
Devils on horseback – Geoff Pugh
‘Naughty’ knife and fork bacon
My pal Joe chose mussels for his main course, which was like a soup of fresh tomato and shellfish, smoked before being liquefied, and a veritable grand bouillabaisse of a dish it was too. I broke my own rules and ordered chicken. But I’m glad I did, because it delivered Sally Clarke levels of perfection. Clarke is one of Britain’s greatest, non-shouty heroes of English seasonal food, unfussy food you think you could do at home but then realise is far beyond your skills. Abé’s chicken comes as three slices, succulent with crisp skin, beside a bowl of peas and lettuce, and frothy verjus, a tangy white sauce. Together, it’s a dance of delicate flavours.
Corn-fed chicken with spring vegetables and verjus – Geoff Pugh
Joe was then greedy enough to insist on the marmalade ice cream sandwich, a novel pud of fine ice cream and thin strips of crunchy toast. We also throw back a pair of penny licks – frothy vanilla ice cream served in wee goblets, like those served by street vendors in the late 19th century.
Penny licks: ‘frothy vanilla ice cream served in wee goblets’ – Geoff Pugh
This sensibly priced triumph of a meal reflects a glorious stage in Abé’s career. If she continues to disprove that demonic chef’s abuse, the world can only get tastier.
Marmalade ice cream sandwich – Geoff Pugh
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Dining and Cooking