the secret ingredient

One dark and wintery Wednesday after work I made my way to Newington Green. It took me a while, some unnecessary rattling of a locked gate and the asking of a couple of passers-by before I found the entrance to The Secret Ingredient. One of my friends was equally confused and we had a couple of exasperating mobile phone conversations:
- Well where are you?
- I’m here, where are you?
- I’m here…
- Well you can’t be because I’m here and I can’t see you…
- What direction are you facing?
- Ah, there you are.

Strangely, the other four didn’t seem to have any trouble finding it, but hey, it was living up to its name so far for two of us. At ground level, around the back of a block of flats, a turquoise sofa finally drew me to the right place. From outside I could see into the kitchen, where our host Horton Jupiter was rushing about in a cool stripey apron, chopping, mixing, plating and gesticulating wildly at a girl in a chic flowery dress. This turned out to be his lovely girlfriend Rachel, who welcomed us in and was our gracious waitress for the evening. She led me through to the dining room, where two other guests had already arrived and were chatting about naked bingo or something similar. 

Our party of six had a table for four and a sofa for two. Although we appreciated being able to sink into the cushions and liked the small home-made circular tablecloth laid on a mini-table on wheels, the two of us on the sofa did feel a bit left out. However, Rachel was happy to let us turn the wheelie on its side, use it as a chair and squeeze in around the bigger table. The whole restaurant seemed to join in and had suggestions on the re-arrangement of the furniture too.

We cracked open the bubbly we’d brought and toasted several things – two new jobs and one successful CRB check (don’t ask). Meanwhile, in the kitchen… Horton, who had originally announced:
- I’m more organised than I’ve ever been tonight! I really do feel rather relaxed about it all…
…was becoming increasingly frenzied as the time ticked by and the food wasn’t quite ready yet. He popped his head around the door every once in a while to check that we were okay and we certainly were. The dining room was cosy – softly candlelit with tea-lights and three tables of excited diners.

The menu was a vegetarian Japanese feast. We began with a small starter of pickled onion each. Some didn’t eat much of this at all for fear of onion breath, while others ate two portions and could’ve eaten more. Next came a dish stunningly presented on a mirror: crunchy cabbage maki, sesame-flavoured carrots delicately tied in seaweed, a beautifully cut radish with a mini lemon slice and some raw apple chutney. I won’t spoil the rest of the seven-course menu for those that want to go there, but it was good.

There was a second sitting after ours and the diners arrived as we were still eating our star fruit. Luckily for us, and unluckily for the hungry arrivals, these were friends of the cook, so he sent them packing to the pub down the road while we finished the last drop of hot sake and ambled out.

Not only a talented cook, Horton Jupiter is also in pop band They Came From The Stars. I met him at the opening of The Underground Restaurant a few weeks ago, another private dining room which is opening its doors to the public once a week. These two super supper clubs might be just the start of something new on the London restaurant scene and I’m definitely going to be keeping my eye out for more popping up. But get in there fast, as the prices are rising. The Underground Restaurant (every Saturday) is already charging £25, while the minimum suggested donation at The Secret Ingredient (every Wendesday) has gone up to £15.

Personally, I think this one is worth every penny.