Little Duck The Picklery

Little Duck The Picklery, Dalston, London

Pickles. Ferments. Kombucha Kimchi and Kefir. No, they’re not the names of my kids, they’re the future of food. Don’t believe me? Well, the global market for fermentation-derived products is projected to reach $85.77 billion by 2025. That’s a lot of Kefir.

With the fermentation revolution in full swing, one restaurant repeatedly comes up in conversation as a market leader that pickles in new and revolutionary ways - and with remarkable results to boot.

Little Duck The Picklery is a fermenting kitchen and wine bar. Nestled in between many of the hottest restaurants in East London - The Picklery is cosy-intimate-dining-space meets buzzy-working-kitchen. Here you have a front row to the inner workings of a lively small batch pickling factory.

The Vibe

Your arrival at Little Duck The Picklery pulls you straight into the action. With windows half covered in muslin curtains, and a warm and heady candlelit glow and a buzz that can only be generated by people thoroughly enjoying their lunch, you feel instantly at home.

We were welcomed into an intimate space which is dominated by an imposing single slab counter straight from the pages of Architectural Digest. The carved pebble monolith was peppered with wooden stools, providing a dramatic contrast to the unique spectacle unfurling before our eyes.

I’ve been to many restaurants that have an open kitchen, and even done the wanky chef’s table thing where you pay an inordinate amount of money to cook your own steak and mash your own potatoes (no thanks), but this was something entirely different. In one corner a young chef was massaging and contorting that evening’s stracci pasta dough, across the way another was flamboyantly pan-frying a sublime cut of hake while a senior chef worked on jars upon jars of mind boggling pickling juices. Each one a master of their craft, it was a joy to witness these artists piece together magic in front of your eyes.

There were moments where the vibe veered slightly towards the absurd, as if you looked too closely at the towering shelves of mysterious fermentation juices, you could trick yourself into thinking you’d accidentally wondered into the taxidermy exhibition at the Natural History Museum. But even if there were a couple of jars of pickled newts, and the odd preserved butterfly, The Picklery would still find a way to make it cosy.

The whole evening was relaxed and assured. Loafs of fresh sourdough piled generously atop each other, sat lovingly next to a plate holding a just-warm comice pear and hazelnut tart. My only small gripe was that the service occasionally veered into the lethargic. But even through our waiter was so chill that he was almost falling asleep, all can be be forgiven as the whole meal was perfection from start to finish.

The Food

I can’t even begin to tell you how good this food was. The Picklery’s menu changes weekly and makes the most of its wide range of sweet and sour fermentation techniques. This forward-looking approach to cooking meant every dish was elevated to a higher astral plane.

Take a humble slice of blue cheese which sat casually next to our bread have alongside our bread. Yes, the cheese was the finest Devon blue churned in the stomach of the gods, but it was the sweet homemade membrillo - fermented quince jelly - that took this simple slice of cheese to an otherworldly height.

Next, melt in the mouth beef shin which swam blissfully in a delicate fruity, plum-coloured nectar. With the added tang of olive and odd mouthful of broccolo fiolaro, the entire dish was lifted above the station of a simple, slow cooked beef stew.

I had my first taste of Fideuà, which is a seafood dish originally from the coast of Valencia. Similar to paella, Fideuà is served with noodles instead of rice, and, in this instance, clams. It was delicious but the only problem is I couldn’t get past the fact that it reminded me of a tin of minestrone soup, which is completely reductive but absolutely true.

The cadence through which each dish arrived was faultless, giving you just enough time to take in each dish before being transported to an entirely new flavour realm. A meaty piece of hake, served in a heady anchovy butter and adorned with meltingly smooth white beans geared us up for the unassuming star of the show.

What was ordered was celeriac. What arrived was a taste rollercoaster that traversed every corner of your palette, letting off fireworks in each direction. Drawn in by soft, earthy celeriac topped generously with a mustard-y oily vinaigrette. the dish slowly crescendos, moving through the gentle ooze of a soft egg and the distinctive hum of tarragon. Until it eventually climaxes to a desert like cacophony with sugary toasted hazelnuts.

The Verdict

I think I need to stick my head in a fridge after that last paragraph. So rarely does a restaurant leave you gleeful. Me and my companion stayed for many hours, catching up and drinking wine that came in a weirdly apt Grecian jug, surveying the comings and goings of this gentile establishment.

We barely took notice as reams of friends, family, and lovers came and went, and this is because Little Duck The Picklery plops you smack back in the heart of a busy service, whilst also giving you the space to absorb all its goodness. This restaurant is teeming with life, ingenuity and soul. It can be found not only the details on the plate, but in the faces of the talented chefs that seemed to genuinely delight in creating something so remarkable.

The Vibe 5/5 – I want to be buried here

Scream factor 5/5 - Only screaming because the food is so good

Pricey? – Actually thought it was very reasonable considering the quality of the food and wine

Would you recommend to someone you just met at a party? – I’ve been permanently raving about it since