When I mentioned to the boss that I was visiting Humble Chicken, his response was an envious groan. “I’ve wanted to go there for ages!” He then mentioned it was the favourite restaurant of a friend of his, a director at Moet & Hennessy – aka a dude whose literal job is appreciating the finer things in life. And Humble Chicken is pretty damn fine indeed.
Technically, we’re on Humble Chicken 2.0: the original opened in 2021 but head chef and part-owner Angel Sato opted to upgrade to a 16-course (I’ll take their word for it) omakase menu last year, a decision that has already yielded a Michelin star. The boss lives in Yorkshire and mutes my calls anyway – so instead I took my friend Tamara, who knows her food (and insists on proving this knowledge over the course of the evening).
Humble Chicken doesn’t bother with tables: the patrons sit around an L-shaped bar in front of an open kitchen. There are three seatings per evening and only 18 of us at any one moment. Dinner simultaneously feels like a proper occasion and also dropping into the coolest friends you know. Glance up at any given moment and you'll see one of the chefs chatting across the bar. “It's not taking itself too seriously,” says Tam. “While at the same time taking itself very seriously.” Spot on: imagine those very cool friends also happened to be amazing at the piano.
Sato is there, the epitome of a culinary rock star with his topknot and tattoos, along with a number of other chefs who navigate the kitchen with skill and good cheer. (With a restaurant as intimate as Humble Chicken, the mood of the team will very much inform the atmosphere – and everyone here seems to be having a blast.) Most wear the traditional whites, although co-owner and fellow chef John Paul sports a burgundy jacket, and restaurant and beverage manager Aidan Monk has a black kimono.
It’s Aiden who lets us choose our sake cups from nine beautifully designed options. The wine and sake journey is an optional but highly recommended part of the Humble Chicken experience. There are too many amazing labels to list here but my absolute favourite was the Tsuchida 99, a limited batch sake that only releases on September 9 each year. Also try one of the cocktails beforehand – the yuzu vesper is exquisite.
Onto the grub. You start with some amazingly creative snacks such as a mussel stuffed with tomato and onion, smoked beef tartare dressed with spicy miso, a fried chicken oyster topped with caviar. No hyperbole: they might be the best snacks I've ever tasted. Best of all is a fig topped with foie gras, a mouthful that you enjoy in contemplative silence. “That was actually transcendent,” says Tam eventually. She later deems it “one of the highlights of my edible life.” There are also pork bao buns topped with a tiny quail egg and decorated with a pig's face – resist the urge to name yours before eating.
“The sake tastes different with all of the snacks,” observes Tam. “Earlier it was lighter and now it's more robust. It's really interesting.” She takes drag of her roll-up and glances at the mirror to check her beret is appropriately tilted. Tam is a dreadful poseur but I see her point.
Then the party really gets started. A beautiful tomato consommé is paired with a reconstructed lobster claw: lots of different lobster meat blended together and reinserted in the claw. Served on a bowl of pebbles: resist the urge to throw at your dining companion, especially when she's making wanky remarks about sake.
There follows a bread course – but not any old bread! This bread is baked in-house and served alongside butter stuffed with chicken parfait and Australian native truffle. Oh and also ox tongue cubes with radish, pickled cucumber, and the cutest little pot of apple mustard. You can make a dainty little sandwich that is even more delightful than the pig baos.
Next up, tuna belly. “The wagyu of the ocean,” says John, the chef who serves it to us, and I completely see what he means – my word is that thing succulent. It's paired with tuna udon noodles served on a bed of pickles and peas. Do not be ashamed to request a spoon to scrape the bowl clean. There's a lovely light snapper (I hardly knew her!) served in a dashi – “like a seaweed broth, if you will,” says Tam, adjusting her monocle. “You're making me sound like an absolute arsehole!” she says upon reading my notes.
We climax with a dry aged beef fillet accompanied by the most delicious Scotch egg you've ever tasted. (Can a Scotch egg be described as ‘light’? This one somehow pulls it off.) It's a homage to the Japanese Sukiyaki dish of beef, vegetables and noodles. Tam and I agree it's our second favourite dish (the fig and foie gras is already the stuff of legend). The only critique? There isn't any bread to mop up the deliciously rich jus. God love him, Angelo overhears my lament and bread is duly sent out. As I said, you're dining with mates.
A cup of refreshing cold tea separates the savoury courses from the sweet. Choose between three flavours of tea and then enjoy deconstructed strawberry cheesecake over which a gigantic strawberry is grated like, well, cheese. Hit the finish line with a reverse, tea-flavoured creme brûlée – the caramel is at the bottom. Then cancel tomorrow morning’s gym class.
The tasting menu is priced at £185, although you can get a Saturday lunchtime offering for £135. The alcohol pairing is £95. So not cheap, albeit you can spend far more in London on infinitely less memorable meals. This is a restaurant with absolutely nothing to be humble about.
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54 Frith St, London W1D 4SJ; Humble Chicken
