SEVEN: Table Seven

He says...

We were agreed that an afternoon in Chingford would be a pleasantly pointless way to spend a Bank Holiday Monday. However, as our train passed through Hackney Downs I became concerned that we could meet some rural tragedy, perhaps getting lost down some deserted country road with the sound of wild dogs closing in.

And while the location on Chingford Green is so perfectly English it could have featured in a wartime propaganda film being invaded by German paratroopers, my first impressions of Table 7 were not great. Mirrored lettering on the sign and ads in the window for ‘80’s/90’s party’ and ‘Classic Buble @ Table 7’… Was this lunch set to be the cheesiest number so far?

Inside it was all red crushed silk curtains and flock wallpaper, with a large fake gold-framed mirror taking pride of place. Sadly we didn’t manage to inherit the leatherette banquette, so we ordered two champagne cocktails and enjoyed the compressed beats of Maxwell, as I craftily took photos of the menu like a catering peeping tom. This act intrigued a nearby couple.

With the cocktails getting us off to a good start, we ordered a bottle of Malbec - which I’m starting to realise is the only wine I really like. I’m sick of pretending to like other ones! This one was particularly interesting, as the label proudly revealed that 50% of the grapes were grown at 1,100 metres and 50% at 700 metres. Apparently the higher altitude gives freshness and structure while the lower adds colour and density. What a magical life wine-making must be...

Meanwhile, a large family were dining across the room, and I listened in as the middle-aged dad told his relations about his love for indie bands Temper Trap and White Lies. Rock on, daddy-o, or something.

I started with the pan fried pigeon, wild mushroom and artichoke salad served with a light truffle sauce – or perhaps it was just balsamic vinegar? Either way, the dense red nuggets, just seared on the outside, were deliciously smoky.

The service was excellent, almost over-attentive. And when one of the waitresses (who did appear to be overcompensating a bit in her attire) started inquiring about where we’d come from, we came over all embarrassed and evasive, like spies on a silly mission.

I continued my balsamic theme with calves liver served with creamy mashed potato, grilled pancetta and a light balsamic jus… which was far preferable to Katherine’s braised beef cheeks served with risotto primavera. I was expecting small medallions of liver but my brutish man-hunger was delighted to gain one giant hunk of meat. The honey and ginger roasted carrots were a treat, too.

And as the music shifted to Yah Mo B There by James Ingram and Michael McDonald, the conversation took a bit of a wrong turn into a cross-dressing theme and a strange plan was formed to write a lesbian musical. We really must get onto that…For desert I had a velvety smooth chocolate fondant, served warm with fruit compote and vanilla ice cream.

In summary, fear not the tacky exterior - this restaurant is smashing.

Booze-drenched and giddy from being in a strange town, we wandered around the cemetery laughing at dead people’s names, and peered at this this mosaic featuring Winston Churchill, who was once the local MP.

 At this point, we rashly decided to go on a pub crawl all the way back to London, although showing our age by deciding to drink halves. Sadly, we only managed one drink in the cosy The Kings Head – where we saw another leatherette banquette – before pathetically deciding to head home, via the sweeping slopes of Mansfield Park and the flat Walthamstow.

Splendid Seven-Shaped times in Sexy eSsex! (or at least nearby) 

Restaurant #7: 7.5/10 



She says....

Not sure I can remember much about number 7. Not sure if that's 'coz it was a while ago now, or because I was drunk on wine and cough medicine.

I do remember trekking across London to Liverpool Street at a time I'd normally, of a weekend, still being enjoying bed. The excitement about our trip to Essex wearing off slightly on the slow train ride, and the restaurant being a bit further than expected from Chingford station so we were late. And then there was the staff welcoming us in and there being just enough people already tucking into their lunch to make us feel comfortable.

Unfortunately I also remember the refurbished interior was already looking dated - chocolate brown and large patterned wall paper is soooo 1990's. The menu was a bit try hard, but more importantly, very enticing.

We ordered a couple of glasses of kir royale which I think prompted the waitress to ask if we were celebrating anything. My, perhaps tactless, answer was 'not working, maybe, as it's a bank holiday Monday?' A little disappointed, I think she'd had a cake on standby already.


The starter had slipped my mind, but luckily we took pictures and suddenly it all comes flooding back! A damn fine slice of ricotta and walnut tart. The puffiness of the pastry was surprising, but I appreciated the lightness even if I missed some of the stodgy depth of short crust. It came with a tomato and onion relish, as specified on the menu, and an extra squiggle of green stuff and balsamic vinegar... DATED I say again!


My main was beautifully cooked - the beef cheeks soft and rich and falling apart at the touch of the knife, the spring veg risotto refreshing with a subtle crunch. But I definitely recall thinking it was a bizarre combination taste-wise. Two different dishes amalgamated. I coveted Matt's mash to compliment the beef, and a nice slab of white fish would have gone perfectly with the risotto.


How could I have forgotten dessert though! A luxurious raspberry creme brulee. One of my favourite puds that tests my will power every time I see it on the menu. 

I gave in this time and it was totally worth it. It came with a shortbread stick and pot of ruby sorbet, making a lovely looking trio. Was there really any reason to detract from the main event though, itself quite rich enough, by combining it with more butter, sugar and cold sugary wetness, delicious as both extras were in their own right?

The chef here is obviously a very competent cook, but whoever creates the menus is a bit cack-handed with the experimentation. My dishes showed a lack of understanding about complimentary flavours and textures. A great pity as the individual parts were super lovely.

Matt's dishes were more traditional combinations and as such worked better, so maybe I should have been cleverer in my ordering!

So two aperitifs and a bottle of nice Argentinian wine later, and £50 (each) lighter, we sashayed our way out into the sunlight a little worse for wear. After a damp morning the sun was now out, our tummies were full, my cold was forgotten and spring was in the air, so we decided to walk it off and explore a little.

There's an unexpected, well to me and my stereotypical view of Essex, villagey feel to Chingford, and we stumbled upon green fields and a stunning view across King George's Reservoir.

A bus ride back to Walthamstow and we were soon heading back West on the train, ready, quite frankly, for a snooze.

Restaurant #7 = 9/10 for overall experience but 7.5/10 for food