Under the knife: The Begging Bowl
Since it first swung open its doors in 2012, The Begging Bowl has been firmly embedded in Peckham – championing authentic Thai food and a sense of community that is much more than pure marketing
I first went to The Begging Bowl in 2020. Yes, 2020. That 2020. I’d been dating someone, long-distance, in the strangest way possible. So when a much-anticipated rendezvous was finally legally permitted, I planned a weekend of extravagance. I’d only moved to Southeast London a month before the pandemic started, and, rather than exploring the area, I’d been building IKEA furniture, figuring out bills, and all the other admin that comes in with a move, not knowing I’d shortly have all the time I needed to sort such things. That weekend, therefore, was not just about that man, but it was about feasting, about getting out and finally hitting as many of those newly re-opened local spots as could possibly be squeezed into 48 hours.
And The Begging Bowl beckoned me. Firstly, there’s something about the vibrancy of Thai food that is my crack. It’s the combination of sweet and sour, the freshness, the hit of spice, the moreish deliciousness, and that – even though it’s really not – it feels sort-of healthy. Secondly, it’s an alluring spot. Perched on a corner on Bellenden Road, just a few doors down from General Store and where The Sourcing Table now is, the main part of the restaurant is an exotic conservatory, with greenery bursting from the glass frontage, its windows opening to create an indoor-outdoor space, reminding me a little of The Garden Café or Rochelle Canteen (two of my favourite spots in London).
That first visit was excellent – a flavourful bite of the freedom that I’d forgotten, a vivid reminder of what lay beyond my doorstep, and how good it was for someone else to do the washing up. Unfortunately, however, it’s not the place to take someone with a peanut allergy (whoops), and ordering was severely limited. So I was delighted to finally make it back last week – unshackled by dietary requirements and the sheer anxiety that came with a high-risk environment and an unfamiliarity with EpiPens*. And it was as good as I remembered.
Ginger, peanut, shallot, coconut, galangal, palm sugar on betel leaf set the tone. A deliciously intense, sweet and salty, flawless amuse-bouche of sorts, the crunchy peanut-driven mix piled onto a pretty betel leaf that we devoured in two ravenous bites. Chive cakes seemed almost impossibly light, the dark soy dip perfectly balancing their earthiness, a dainty pace-setter. Five spice braised duck, shiitake mushrooms, mustard greens, chilli vinegar was a triumph – the meat melting off the duck leg, subtly spiced and savoury but with the vinegar piercing the more European flavours.
The pièce de résistance was the deep-fried whole sea bass, physalis, green mango, roasted rice, tamarind, chilli dressing. A sexier fish doesn’t exist, the beast curled nose-to-tailfin, lightly battered, its flesh bursting away from the bones from the heat of its deep-fried dive. Beneath the crisp batter the fish was sweet, soft and juicy, while its gentle flavours were contrasted by the punch of sweet mango and tamarind, while the bite of physalis cut through the combination to add freshness. More of a kick of chilli would have taken it to the next level for me, but it was glorious as it was.
Two of us didn’t make it past a bowl each of the unlimited jasmine and sticky rice – the former gorgeously fluffy, the latter irresistibly glutinous – but that touch of generosity encompasses the feel of the establishment. For it’s not just the food that makes The Begging Bowl superb – the staff are a joy, kind, full of the right sort of advice, friendly and as attentive as is needed, but not overly so, letting you linger as long as you need. Combine that with £10 corkage (even if the glassware isn’t perfect), and this is the sort of local everyone wants (unless, perhaps, you’ve got a peanut allergy).
The Begging Bowl, 168 Bellenden Road, London SE15 4BW
*Just in case you were concerned, no one died (or even had to go to A&E, although on the upside, it’s pretty close to King’s) – and despite it being an utterly stupid place to dine with a peanut allergy, the staff were glorious about it (and much more forgiving than I was).
