Mr Buckley’s
Maybe it’s the name, maybe it’s the neighbourhood vibe
that’s typical of an upscale Brooklyn eatery,
but punters tend to assume Mr Buckley’s dishes up modern American cuisine.
The charming owner, Philip assures me he only went to the
states for the first time a couple of weeks ago and that what he very
deliberately set out to do was offer world food on small plates, tapas style.
‘I like food to be shared’, he tells me with real passion.
I settle down to a very fine Gin Fizz (the cocktails here
are superb) and some sharing plates, all recommended to me by the smiling
waitress. The popular lobster mac, blue cheese polenta with wild mushrooms and
truffle oil and warm beetroot and kale salad were stand outs. Two weeks after
my meal, I am still reminiscing about the superb combo of flavours.
In the restaurant, the lighting is low, the brickwork
exposed and the clientele mostly young and local. I stroll in from the cold,
hunting for a socket for my phone, expecting to leave it charging, dangling in
the corridor, but Philip shows me a socket right next to my table and even
offers me a charger. I am impressed: restauranteurs and bar owners take note –
such a simple detail can make such a difference.
Philip was very hands on with the restaurant re-design, even
hammering away at some of the word work. The toilets were so utilitarian in
look that I waltzed right into the men’s, but I imagine these kind of details
will be ironed out pretty quickly. It is easy to forget that Mr Buckley’s has
only been open a couple of months. ‘The atmosphere in which my staff work is crucial’, he
explains. His attention to detail in all aspects of the business has clearly
paid off.
So, what’s with the name? It turns out that the original
premises were a very popular East End drinking
den. One day at the beginning of the last century, a pub landlord from across
the road turned up to gate crash a ball with 200 people. On being refused
entry, Mr Buckley simply set fire to the place.
‘Two weeks before I opened I didn’t know what to call the
place’, confides Philip smiling, as he shows me a framed newspaper cutting
about the Mr Buckley incident on the wall. That he should name his new venture
after an arsonist somehow sums up the free spirited nature of the place: there
will even be a flaming dessert on the menu named in honour of the man.
This lovely new restaurant sits on the highly
unprepossessing Hackney Road .
‘Who wants to be in Shoreditch now?’ Philip, who set up Jaguar Shoes there in
the early days, asks very reasonably. When I press Philip for recommendations
of what to eat, he immediately answers: ‘Everything,’ ‘I like everything on
this menu. It’s all good’. I have to agree.
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