I don't know about you, but the concept of a 'vegetarian restaurant' brings to mind a certain set of expectations, not all of them good. I suppose it's because traditionally, vegetarian food has been, at best, just 'normal' restaurant food with the meat either taken out, or replaced by meat substitutes such as Quorn or tofu or certain types of mushroom. Sometimes, admittedly, this approach does work - the Shake Shack 'Shroom burger is just their normal cheeseburger with the beef replaced with a breaded, fried portobello mushroom, but it works remarkably well. But too often you're presented with things like meat-less lasagna or a French Onion soup made without beef stock, and the main result is that you just wish you were eating the real thing.
Holy Carrot, then, is best described not as a vegetarian restaurant but an exciting, modern, international bistro that just happens to not serve any meat. And it works because all the dishes they serve are at their absolute best just the way they are, drawing from a number of different culinary styles and making use of the full range of spices, oils and techniques available to the best London kitchens, only with the main ingredient being seasonal vegetables instead of another kind of protein.
Attention to detail is everywhere, not least the drinks list which is courtesy of A Bar With Shapes For A Name, one of the most exciting cocktail bars in town and currently riding high in the World's 50 Best Bars list. This is a dill-infused martini which by virtue of the fact it's come straight out of a frozen premade bottle was icy cold, pure and clean and simply enjoyable.
House pickles are as good as you might hope to expect from chef Daniel Watkins, who at Acme (his previous gaff) had filled the place with giant jars and tubs of fermenting and pickling who-knows-what to keep his menu full of the stuff year-round. So yes they were all good, but we particularly enjoyed the green beans which had a lovely sweet touch, and daikon because, well, I always like pickled daikon.
Koji bread was a lovely fluffy bun, sort of like a risen flatbread, golden and bubbly on the outside and glossed with butter. This would have been worth an order by itself, and indeed that is an option, but really you'd be an idiot not to go for the version with "smoked mushroom chili ragu", a concoction so ludicrously moreish it probably should come with some kind of government advisory addiction warning. I'm not the first person to swoon over this dish, and I certainly won't be the last, but do believe the hype - it justifies the journey to Notting Hill by itself.
Stracciatella came under a pile of endives and other bitter leaves, dressed in the Thai dipping sauce Nahm Jim. Perfectly nice, but I think we were mourning the loss of the mushroom ragu at this point, so it had a lot to live up to.
Coal roast leeks, though, bowled us over all over again. Leeks have a marvellous way of holding the flavour of charcoal smoke, and enhanced with judicious use of green leek(?) oil and a kind of almond hummus, they were a great demonstration of everything that makes Watkins' cooking so exciting. Not to mention beautiful, teased as they were into a neat geometric block and dotted with yellow blobs of aji chilli.
Celeriac schnitzel was a greaseless puck of breadcrumbed, fried celeriac which had a nice earthy flavour and robust texture. On top, more excellent pickles and micro herbs, as tasty as they were colourful, and underneath their version of a katsu sauce, packed full of curry flavour and a perfect foil for the celeriac.
Finally from the savoury courses, a giant skewer of oyster mushrooms, with lovely crispy bits from the grill and soft and meaty (I'm sure they won't mind too much me saying) inside. The mole sauce underneath was rich and glossy and complex, a beautiful match with the grilled shrooms, and the provided (though not pictured, sorry) almond tacos were soft and buttery and held firm even when soaked in gorgeous mole sauce.
Dessert consisted of a pear, simply poached perhaps in syrup or some kind of dessert wine, and a bowl of frilly soft-serve ice cream. I can also see a bowl groaning with 3 scoops of ice cream in my picture, but can't for the life of me remember where this came in the equation. I'm pretty sure I'm on safe ground telling you they were very nice, though.
This wasn't my invite - I was freeloading on my friend's table this time - but another benefit of a largely plant-based menu is that, to be brutal, veg doesn't cost that much. So even if we had been paying, all this lovely stuff would have come to about £70pp by my quick rough estimation, and is even cheaper at lunchtime. Certainly, residents of Notting Hill will be used to paying a lot more for a lot less, as the portions at Holy Carrot are nothing if not generous. We left not only deeply impressed, but absolutely stuffed.
So all-in-all, there's not many reasons not to love Holy Carrot. Don't think of it as a vegetarian restaurant, if that's likely to put you off - think of it instead as a great neighbourhood restaurant that puts interesting, seasonal vegetables center stage and uses a bewildering variety of techniques to make the very best of them. It's not "good for meat-free", it's just plain old good. And that should make everyone happy.
8/10
We were invited to Holy Carrot and didn't see a bill.
