Our Review Of Belly In Kentish Town: Filipino European Fusion Food From Omar Shah

One day in June, my TikTok decided to push videos of a purple tiramisu getting hoovered up at ‘London’s hottest new restaurant’. I love tiramisu, so my interest was piqued - I knew I had to eat this Violet Beauregarde-coloured layer cake immediately. Which is why on one of the hottest days of the year, after traipsing the grounds of Highgate Cemetery (a brilliant heat wave activity), I ended up at Belly, the Filipino and French fusion bistro in Kentish Town.

Belly's interiors were minimal and clean, with the odd tapestry but plenty of wine bottles. 

DesignMyNight’s Review Of Belly In Kentish Town

With a restaurant name that is as glutenous as it is to the point, Belly is bold from the onset. It’s family-run and comes from Omar Shah, a restaurateur and chef who has dominated Kentish Town Road with Bintang, Guanabana, Cafe Mama and Sons and Hoodwood, and counting. This is considerably his most ambitious eatery to date, practising wood-fire cooking and merging ingredients that you wouldn’t necessarily have thought of, such as drizzling fish sauce over a custard-filled profiterole.

While its menu was divisive, the same could not be said for its minimal interiors, as only a few shelves topped with low-intervention wine bottles lined the walls. Fortunately, it was jam-packed on a Saturday, which lent a buzzy atmosphere to the restaurant, and my partner and I were sandwiched between two other couples, debating drinks over red candlelight.

I began by channelling my inner Dua Lipa and ordering the Tita’s Spiked Atchata (£12), which consisted of tequila, pickle juice, chilli, lime and soda, while my boyfriend played it safe with a Pandan negroni (£10). It was very obvious there was a pickle in my drink, which worked after I’d had something to eat to line my palate, but on its own, and even as a pickle lover, I wasn’t so sure.

Belly’s intent was for us to share dishes, so we ordered a trio of starters to begin with and were warned that the steak tartare (£15), made from wagyu rump and served with nori chips, was spicy. However, I found it to be pretty mild, yet still delightfully flavoursome (had my spice tolerance gone up? Was it my time to shine on Hot Ones?). There was a generous amount of silky meat that paired well with the crisps - the tartare sang with salty nori.

Belly's drinks are full of character (and pickles). 

The crispy king prawns (£12) took me aback when they arrived, as the shells had also been deep-fried and tossed in Paris fish sauce and Calamansi hot honey. We were encouraged to eat all of it, and I’m glad we did, as it was like eating a prawn crisp with slightly more sweetness, and affirmed the fact that hot honey really can make everything better. We finished with cured scallops ‘bicol express’ (£15) in light but rich coconut cream with chilli, which I found perhaps a little too milky, but then I’m not the biggest fan of coconut.

We’d ordered a fourth starter too, asparagus ‘Toyomansi’ (£13), topped with crispy garlic and soy, on a bed of white bean puree, which was advised to be served with our mains. This was delicious, and the crispy garlic was so treacly and like fondant, it married the subtle bitterness of the vegetable well, and the bean puree complemented the earthiness. It was nice to see a burst of greenery on what was otherwise a very beige and indulgent selection of food.

I would encourage anyone who visits to get the woodland mushroom ‘arroz caldo’ (£22). This risotto-style dish came with a rich soy-cured egg yolk in the middle that we could burst and mix in with the rice and meaty chunks of king oyster mushrooms. It was umami bliss in a clay pot.

Joining spoonfuls of lucious rice on my plate were helpings of oak-smoked ‘tinola’ herb chicken (£27), drizzled in a zesty ginger beurre blanc with a scattering of capers and coriander. The chicken was delectably moist and a shade of blushing pink in parts, and very juicy to eat - a protein-loving, gym boyfriends' dream. I fear we had overordered with the pink fir potatoes (£7) with kombu butter, but these were fluffy, crumbly when cut open, and a welcome accompaniment to the chicken.

The ube tiramisu (pictured left) really was the star of the show. 

During the period before dessert, I guzzled a watermelon-calamansi margarita (£13), which was a much-needed refreshing change from all the full-bodied food we’d just eaten, whereas my partner went for a coconut espresso martini (£15). It was the sort that knew it was a coffee, as opposed to the syrup-laden drinks he was used to, which was appreciated.

For the grand finale, we ordered the ube tiramisu (£11). We had to. This pillowy beauty featured layers of sponge soaked in Maker’s Mark, tres leche and a blueberry compote, as well as ube, the purple yam that gave it almost a nutty and coconut-like taste too. While there wasn’t any coffee or amaretto in sight (which begs the argument, what makes a tiramisu a tiramisu?), I couldn’t complain. It was light, creamy and rounded off the meal well - as we left, I saw three more come out of the kitchen and arrive at different tables, eager phones and bellies at the ready.

Overall: Belly

I thoroughly enjoyed my meal at Belly and appreciated how creative and moreish everything was. The ambition to create a trendy bistro was prevalent in both the dishes and the drinks. I just wish everything could’ve been cheaper, but I suppose you can hardly eat at a small plates restaurant without spending over £100. The space was small and very modest, making it feel as though you were discovering a hidden gem, but in a time where virality can ruin places like this, it made me fearful for when one too many people post a purple tiramisu online.

For more, check out our guide to the best restaurants in Camden.