Some nights, you don’t plan the meal that ends up defining your week. You just wander in somewhere because the air feels sharp and the evening too good to waste indoors.
I ducked into Bar Valette in Shoreditch on a crisp autumn Thursday, the kind of night that makes you crave candlelight, bread still warm from the oven and something in a glass that quiets your brain. From the outside, it’s all deep green paint and frosted glass, modest enough that you might walk past. Inside, though, it hums with energy: flickering candles, low conversation and a playlist that makes you want to stay for one more round.
It feels a little French, a little Spanish and entirely comfortable. The staff are fantastic, effortlessly balancing warmth with professionalism. They glide through the room with the kind of confidence that only comes from genuinely enjoying where they work. In the kitchen, Head Chef Stan Wróblicki, previously of The Clove Club, brings that same quiet precision you’d expect from fine dining, but without the stiffness.
Emer Landgraf, Head Sommelier at both The Clove Club and Bar Valette, oversees the wine list with a thoughtful hand. She wasn’t there that evening, but her influence was felt in the elegant, unfussy selection that tied everything together.
We started with the devilled crab tart, a crisp pastry shell filled with silky, spiced crab that tasted like the seaside at sunset. Then came the Swiss chard barbajuans, two golden pockets of soft, fragrant filling that vanished far too quickly. The poppy seed and potato bread with cultured butter was warm, pillowy and dangerously moreish, the kind of bread that ruins your restraint before the mains even arrive.
The tomato tonnato was bright and fresh, creamy yet light, while the fried squid with chorizo and aioli nailed that balance between crunch, spice and richness. For the main course, we shared the aged Hereford sirloin steak, cooked perfectly and served with sides that were so good they could have been dishes in their own right: duck fat sauté potatoes tossed in persillade, French beans with hazelnut crumb, and carrot râpées that brought a cool, citrusy contrast.
If I had room, I would have tried the snails “Madrid style” with pig’s trotter and chorizo, or the aged Middlewhite pork chop with honey, paprika and fennel, both of which looked far too good to ignore. Next time, definitely. We ended with the chocolate mousse, rich, velvety and completely silent at the table level of good.
When I stepped back outside, Shoreditch had that late night hum where everyone’s either heading home or pretending not to. I wasn’t full so much as content in the best way, no craving for dessert or another drink, just a slow walk home and the impulse to text someone, “Found somewhere good.”
28 Kingsland Rd, London E2 8AA
