Rita's Bar & Dining, Hackney

Rita's Bar and Dining, temporarily of Dalston Junction, has just re-opened on Hackney's Mare Street. I only visited their previous incarnation once; perhaps it was nerves from being on a second date, but I found the experience somewhat stressful. The room was big and bright, brash, noisy and smoke-filled. I left smelling like a grill, drunk on frozen margaritas. 

Their new spot couldn't be any more different; it's all clean lines and dim lighting, a long narrow room with an open-plan kitchen, and a further basement dining room. From what I remember, the preceding menu had a Mexican-ish slant - here, vaguely Asian, a smattering of the Med, a nod to America. Spiced lotus root crisps, crunchy and salty, accompanied my well-balanced and all-too-easily-drank sour cherry bourbon concoction. It's not immediately clear from the menu what portion sizes one can expect, but we were guided through it gently by the patient staff. 

From the specials board, the steak tartare was made with the flavoursome bavette cut, chopped finely for tenderness. Seasoned with fish sauce and ponzu, little rounds of chillis interspersed within were little firecrackers. A clever take on the traditional, and one I enjoyed very much. A plate of house pickled onion, daikon and cucumber went unexpectedly well with them, the strong punch of vinegar counteracting the richness of the beef.

A deep bowl of incredibly addictive sticky wings followed. Dressed in a sauce dark with kecap manis (a sweet Indonesian soy sauce) and liberal ginger, once the bones were nibbled clean we kept the bowl of sauce for further dipping of, well, anything. I was tempted to stick a sly finger in there now and again. My Chineserness was affronted when I was offered a spoon to dish out the plate of spiced noodles with pigs head ham (above) but it soon became clear why they were offered. The noodles used are the wide flappy rice noodle variety (hor fun), prone to slipperiness and wanton sauce sprays. The noodles were light on promised spicing, and due to the beetroot they cooked with, not a particularly pretty number. I struggled for much ham flavour.

We were back on track with a behemoth plate of fried chicken. For £19, half a bird portioned up is served with a pot of honey and a pot of sausage gravy. A typically Southern styling, the gravy was like a peppery bechemel with bits of sausage in it. The chicken itself (once I recovered from it being hotter than napalm) was encased in crisp salty batter, the flavour further enhanced with the chicken skin having been removed, crisped, powdered and dusted over the chicken pieces. Hello, my new Ultimate Fried Chicken. I abandoned the honey in favour of the ginger-spiked treacle the wings had been served in, pleased as punch that I happened to be positioned nearest to it. 

I topped the chart for Potential Heart Attack with a few spoonfuls of green chilli mac and cheese, carefully navigating around the scoop of guacamole on top, for I am adverse to the hot, or even warmed avocado. Fine, fine comfort food.

Stuffed to busting, I insisted to the table (we were three) that we had to try the beignets with dulce de leche and foie gras. It's foie gras. In a dessert. With doughnut-ty things. Given what we'd just eaten, I'm not entirely sure what possessed me. The caramelly, toffee sauce smeared all over the hot beignet (this is becoming porn territory) was jolly nice, though I didn't detect much of a foie gras flavour. Perhaps for the best, given my now-protruding belly. 

We ate handsomely for £40 / head, including service and a couple of cocktails each. I'll be back. Maybe for brunch. Whenever really, as long as that chicken is on the menu.

Rita's Bar & Dining

175 Mare Street 
London E8 3RH

Tel: 020 3096 1530


They take reservations!