The food at The Hungry Donkey is all very good, some of it is so good, in fact, that I’m not too keen on sharing with my three dining companions during a recent visit. Opened earlier this year, just minutes from Spitalfields and the city, the restaurant is far less like a British chain pub than its name would suggest. There’s no sub-par Sunday roasts for £10 or self-proclaimed “perfect puds” (read: sugary, frozen cakes) here. Instead, the menu focuses on incredible Greek street food dishes served with flair of modernity to match the trendy industrial décor and swathes of young people, and just in case nobody’s already mentioned, there’s a real focus on sharing plates.
For as long as there have been restaurants, there have been the most outrageous of restaurant trends. Let’s face it; London is full of annoying impositions that surround our most social expeditions for something to eat. All too often we have to pretend to enjoy scraping sauce from materials more fit to tile a bathroom floor. It’s got to the stage where us city dwellers have to pretend that it’s enjoyable to shout at one another just to cut through the cacophonous noise storm that surrounds us slurping from giant bowls of bone broth – all in the name of staying on-trend.
Greek Street Food – Hungry Donkey
One craze that continues to divide Londoners, however, is the notion of small plates and sharing – we all have that one friend who’s incapable of sharing, even when they’re not even paying for their own meal. Nonetheless, sharing is something that I’ve grown very fond of when it comes to eating out. Maybe it’s something to do with the fact that we’re all sociable beings, and there’s something quite special about being able to exchange opinions based on first hand experience. Or perhaps it’s because us food writers are generally encouraged to be adventurous and bow to the altar of outlandish signature dishes that use discordant ingredients. Some creations are good but quite often these eccentric concoctions are best left to the dustbin. So it always comes with great pleasure to seek comfort in half of a less adventurous companion’s ‘safe choice’ and to share the burden of your own unfortunate choice.