A hidden treasure called Townsend
Tucked away within Whitechapel Gallery, Townsend is a dining room brimming with elegance. The mid-century furniture, parquet flooring and striking light fixtures all see to that. It’s an intimate venue with room for just twenty-six covers, but thanks to the abundance of natural light streaming in, there’s a sense of space much vaster than its square footage.
Led by Nick Gilkinson (ex Anglo and Garden Café) and with Chris Shaw as head chef (ex Petersham Nurseries and BAO), you’re in safe hands sitting down to dine here. The restaurant puts its focus on Modern British cuisine, which is evident from the amount of homegrown produce dotted across the seasonal menu. I visited during a Saturday lunchtime, so I could take my pick from the à la carte menu, or opt for the set lunch instead. Liking the sound of all four courses, the latter it was.
First up was a Red Leicester croquette sitting on top of a pickled walnut ketchup. Biting into the crisp casing, a dense, gooey middle revealed itself. Cheesy and indulgent, as a croquette should always be, but lifted by the tanginess of the sauce, things were off to a promising start. Next came an eye-catching dish baring hefty chunks of Nutbourne farm tomatoes and equally hefty chunks of Graceburn – a cheese based on Persian feta, marinated not in brine, but in oil infused with garlic, thyme, bay and pepper. The tomatoes were soft and oozing with a subtle sweetness, smoked rapeseed oil brought a delicate, you guessed it, smokiness and basil added its trusty fragrance. This was a brilliant combination of flavours, simultaneously fresh and unctuous.
The main dish was Cornish pollock alongside layers of very finely sliced potato and courgette. Well-cooked and delicate in flavour, the rosemary within the sauce and the addition of diced olives worked wonderfully with the pollock. Last but definitely not least came melt-in-your-mouth fig leaf cream with syrupy poached strawberries and a caramelly buckwheat biscuit which I loved.
What came from Townsend’s kitchen were simple but brilliant dishes, simply but beautifully presented. Not enough people know about the restaurant, which is something I’m torn over. There’s a part of me that wants to tell the world, while another part wants to keep it all to myself. It’s the type of place you could visit as a solo diner, looking out onto the hustle and bustle of Whitechapel Road or tuning into the chatter of nearby tables. Or you could, of course, gather a group to the gallery and make an afternoon of it. However you decide to enjoy your meal here – which you will – Townsend is a comforting respite from the intense rhythm of the city outside.
