Rochelle Canteen, London E2: ‘It wears its fabulousness lightly’ – restaurant review

I should really hate Rochelle Canteen. It’s the sort of place whose misty-filtered photographs in weekend broadsheet supplements (oops) would normally bring my inner chippy northern cow bristling and spitting to the surface, which is why, I guess, I’ve never been until now. And it’s impossible to find. I wander around for some time, bothering bemused workmen involved in renovating the listed redbrick school (“a singular oasis of creativity”) in which the former bikeshed is situated. Even though it’s in the historic Boundary Estate, one of the earliest social housing schemes, and the menu features mince and tatties, you get the distinct sense it’s deliberately keeping out People Like You.

And here, on one of many outdoor tables, is owner Margot Henderson and influential chef husband Fergus (of St John fame), sitting in the watery sunshine, each wearing one of the straw hats that hang on the restaurant’s wall. This canteen may come on like a shack, but scratch the surface, and tables are Alvar Aalto, chairs Ercol. There are deckchairs. It’s studied-urban-bucolic enough to turn the most liberal-minded bolshie.

But, so help me, I’m seduced right in. I want everything on the succinct menu that whispers of the past – devilled crab, gull’s egg with celery salt, posset – while being resolutely contemporary. There’s an air of effortlessness that’s contrarily hard to achieve: salad of roast lamb sounds like a dreary Monday lunch of leftovers, but is wonderfully tender, rosemary-fragranced meat and perky leaves slicked with the umami hum of green herbs and anchovy. Even hefty stuff is delivered with a light touch: that mince and tatties delivers fine beef, all dark, resonant savouriness (is there a touch of clove?), and tiny, fabulously earthy jersey royals, just shrugging off their papery skins.

There are salt cod fritters, light as marshmallow, a touch of dill and a generous bowl of ochre, brazenly garlicky aïoli as jiggly as a twerk. Just-crisp sweetbreads, creamy inside, bob about in a buttery playground of new green vegetables, peas and wilted little gem lettuce. And I adore anywhere that offers Welsh rarebit, this version as dark and sticky as cheesy treacle from its hefty glugs of Guinness. Meringue, too, with lipstick-pink rhubarb and clouds of cream, a slick of gingered syrup. And fig leaf ice-cream, dense and custardy, tasting, as the pal says, of expensive scented candle (in the nicest possible way).

It’s not licensed, so we do as the website tells us and pick up a bottle from Leila’s Shop two minutes’ away. The couple behind us, who will never see 50 again, have also followed this instruction with a bottle of fizz to kick off and two bottles of red to follow. They’re holding hands – well, I suppose they would – and are now the living encapsulation of my new life goals.

Like a Brit-flavoured River Cafe, Rochelle Canteen has grown from servicing the creative industry that surrounds it – if you can’t cope with the likes of Luella Bartley dropping by, or the coffee-slurping dude who makes Snoop Dogg look like Toby Young, it’s probably not for you. It could easily come across as an elite, arty clubhouse, but somehow doesn’t: like the self-effacing name that gives little clue as to the seriousness of the kitchen, it wears its fabulousness lightly.

Margot Henderson worked in many of the kitchens that shaped today’s culinary landscape – 192, The Eagle, The French House, the original Quality Chop House. She and business partner Melanie Arnold were ahead of the game going east, too: Rochelle Canteen is nearly 12 years old. How on earth had I never been? Too busy, like all the other food-tossers, chasing the new. I’m regretting the wasted years as I type.

So, my bad. I love it. I love the informality of the cooking, its absolute confidence to be itself: a little messy, entirely unfussy, wholly enjoyable. Rochelle Canteen’s food is nourishing for body and soul, and the breakfast- and lunch-only restaurant is enormous fun. I find myself browsing the estate – a three bed flat “in need of modernisation” is on offer for nearly a million, cueing a hollow laugh – with fantasies of being a neighbour. I always think that, in the event of a zombie apocalypse I’ll head for John Lewis, where nothing bad ever happens. But, actually, come the revolution, I’m holing up here. Apart from anything else, they’ll never find me.

• Rochelle Canteen Rochelle School, Arnold Circus, London E2, 020-7729 5677. Open Mon-Fri, lunch only, noon-3pm. About £35 a head for three courses, plus drinks and service.

Food 8/10
Atmosphere 9/10
Value for money 9/10