Chishuru

Oxford Street has the air of a scraggy cat that refuses to die. It’s taking Wahacas for its stomach, Primarks for its fur, a rub of Intimissimi here, a drop of Simmons there. Perhaps this faltering heartbeat of a destination should place its faith elsewhere. In something more independent. In a restaurant brimming with life, flavours, and genuine verve. Because unique experiences aren’t easy to come by in London, but Chishuru is one of them.

London is blessed with plenty of West African options, but none of them are like this place. Joké Bakare’s cooking had people flocking to its pint-sized original Brixton location and its two-floor evolution on Great Titchfield Street has got the room to seat them. The terracotta tones are warm, the spicy okra martinis lethal, and the peppersoup broth is the drinkable kick up the arse that everyone needs. There isn’t a similar restaurant in Fitzrovia, nor the whole of London.

photo credit: Aleksandra Boruch

photo credit: Aleksandra Boruch

photo credit: Aleksandra Boruch

A meal at Chishuru hums rather than hurtles. It’s a set menu affair, at lunch and dinner, with a careful rhythm to everything that comes out. The maisonette setup means lunch is best enjoyed upstairs, while the moodier basement has a cave-like booth that begs you to explore the low-intervention French wine list. There are touches of personality to be found all over. From Joké’s tableside chats and embrace, to the exhibition of chic crockery put in front of you.

photo credit: Aleksandra Boruch

photo credit: Aleksandra Boruch

Only an idiot would come to Chishuru for one meal. The menus comprise 12 exceptional dishes, so two visits are essential. But outside of that logistical necessity, every sauce, every spice, every morsel needs to be tried. Ekuru, a wild watermelon seed cake, is ingeniously paired with mellow waina, a sweet rice and coconut ball. At dinner moi moi, a bean cake, with duck liver and a pungent duck egg sauce stands out. Lunch can certainly be enjoyed solo, but dinner here should be with multiple people—if only to guarantee a taste of each of the three different mains.

photo credit: Aleksandra Boruch

photo credit: Aleksandra Boruch

photo credit: Aleksandra Boruch

If Oxford Street is dying, then it needs Chishuru on drip. It’s not showy. Nor is it seamless. Instead, Chishuru seems to hone in on being consistently impressive. Of course, it might help that it's located in a quagmire of chains and Sour Patch Kids vendors. But put Chishuru in any part of London and it would be a destination, no matter what.

Food Rundown

photo credit: Aleksandra Boruch

Lunch Set Menu

Chishuru’s £50 a head lunch is a wonder. The two starters are both sweet and spicy: a precise square of ekuru topped with pumpkin seed pesto and a scotch bonnet sauce siphoned from Mount Doom. You’re best off eating this and having the golf ball-sized waina that’s filled with sweet beetroot purée and a brilliant black garlic paste after. There’s a choice of mains, but the yassa is an astoundingly tender charcoal-grilled guinea fowl. It comes in a shallow bath of caramelised onion and lemon sauce, served with rice and plantain. Sweet, smoky, and a little sour from some pickled onions on top. To finish, kuli kuli. A peanut and ginger cookie that tastes like it’s a distant relative of the Australian anzac biscuit, with a scoop of faintly aromatic chai ice cream on top. Ditch the spoon and go with your hands.

photo credit: Aleksandra Boruch

Dinner Set Menu

A trio of starters will have you slurping, singing, and quietly counting your blessings. Peppersoup broth with eko, meat floss, and tofu might be the most enlivening thing on a London restaurant menu right now. The moi moi, a bean cake, with duck liver and duck egg sauce, is deeply savoury and deeply delicious. The sinasir, a fermented rice cake topped with white crab meat, is impossible not to shovel. Of the mains, the nsala, a tender guinea fowl served with an unforgettable uziza sauce, is excellent. But it’s egusi with grilled and stuffed Napa cabbage that stands out. Every sauce at Chishuru is astounding. Silky, savoury, sweet, and spicy. By the time the ngalakh (rice ice cream) comes, you might feel perfectly content. But, trust us, that bowl will be gleaming by the time you’re done with it.