Kiln Me Softly

Securing a seat at the most desirable restaurant in town dictates that you leave not just one, but every man behind.

Turn up to Padella on a Thursday evening for a romantic meal à deux and enjoy your aperitif of waiting in the cold for two hours, but pitch up alone and chances are you will be seated and sipping a negroni in minutes.

Kiln is exactly the sort of place that calls for such mercenary tactics. When I arrived on a Tuesday lunchtime, a queue of duos was already snaking out of the door with a chirpy waitress acting as an unbearded Noah counting in the twos. I declared my solitary status and found myself perched at the counter in under a minute while those fools with ‘friends’ and ‘meaningful relationships’ shivered in the November drizzle.

Previously the reserve of antiquated Italian cafes or sleepy Parisian zincs, counter seats are now being embraced wholeheartedly by London establishments. They are a godsend for the solitary diner, particularly those who cringe at the the flourish of an inessential place setting being removed by a well-meaning waiter. Counter seating brings a joyous informality to truly excellent food, and its elevated position make for great people watching.

Not that you’ll be doing much of that at Kiln.

The ‘kitchen’ resembles a ragged open cast mine stretching almost the length of the restaurant: in lieu of a sleek steel oven, vast clay pots are precariously balanced on dozens of charcoal-filled buckets, glowing with hot fury. Pots clatter, meat sears, knives chime. The chefs move balletically around the tiny space juggling blistering pans and endless orders. It feels like being in the audience for a culinary version of Stomp, although not complete and utter nonsense. Banging a toaster with a rusty spoon isn’t art, it’s annoying.

The whole display at Kiln is more like a well-oiled Bangkok food truck than a Vice-approved hot spot, with prices (almost) to match. The most expensive dish on the menu when I visited was a £13 fish curry, and the (in)famous crab and pork belly noodles are a steal at £6.75. The portions are larger than I expected, and as such I really didn’t need the three starters I ended up ordering ‘by mistake’

I won’t go into raptures about the food other than to say it was outstanding. Kiln is currently one of the most celebrated restaurants in the UK,and as such there are infinitely better culinary reviews available than this.

Devastatingly good lamb skewers aside, this is possibly THE place I’ve been looking for. It’s the sort of place where you’re made to feel so comfortable alone that you wonder why you ever bothered with human interaction in the first place.

For once, it truly pays to go it alone. Groups are banished to the windowless basement with its plywood benches while solo visitors are given ringside seats to one of the best shows in town. The food is not only made freshly in front of you, it is handed to you directly by the chefs who have worked out that there is little point in summoning a waiter to move a searing hot plate two inches across a bar.

During my visit, all but two counter seats were taken up by people eating alone - this is no hidden introvert’s gem. The staff are attentive without being intrusive, and are clearly used to looking after solo visitors: one waitress offered to take my bag behind the bar while I went to the loo so it wouldn’t be left unattended. If I’d been an entirely different person, perhaps an American, I would have hugged her.

I’m struggling to find anything negative to lay at Kiln’s Brewer Street door, other than the fact that it is on the same road as my other favourite Thai restaurant which has the added bonus of being BYOB. The food at Kiln may be outstanding, the wine list interesting, the prices impressive and the service impeccable, but truly nothing beats the illicit frisson of skipping a queue - leave your friends at home.

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Food + Drink - 3. Quite possibly the best food I’ve had all year. The Thai magic they work on a Tamworth sausage should be illegal.(As it very much were).

Layout - 3. Solo diners will be seated at the counter where you feel as if you have your own personal chef. This is one of very few restaurants that seem to favour those who venture in alone.

Awkwardness - 3. The only awkward moment was picking my way through the queues of couples at the door. Suckers.

Service - 3. Fantastic, quick, charming.

Convenience - 3. You are inches from the chef making and handing over your food and the staff will even watch your things for you. Perfection.

Overall - 15. I'd happily eat nowhere else.

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Book - Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain so you can appreciate how ******* impressive it is that the chefs millimetres in front of you have managed not to swear.

££ - Not cheap, but unbelievably good value considering it has been voted the best restaurant in the UK.

58 Brewer St

Soho

London