Kawan, London W1: ‘This dish is bound to work, we think. But it doesn’t. It’s hideous’ – restaurant review | Food

A couple of months ago, Nigel Ng, the Malaysian comedian better known as his alter ego, Uncle Roger, opened his first UK restaurant in the heart of London’s Chinatown. He’s a man who has built a global YouTube following of more than 10 million subscribers via pithy, endearing videos on how, for example, to make exemplary fried rice, not to mention why Jamie Oliver’s take on that classic dish turns his stomach. Big numbers such as “more than 10 million” make investors very excited, not least because 10 million viewers might potentially equal 10 million bums on seats eating “Chinatown fried rice”, which at Kawan comes with crispy XO chilli and Cantonese lap cheong, and costs £15.90 a bowl. What’s 10 million multiplied by £15.90? OMG! £159,000,000!! Everyone’s a winner. Let’s open a novelty restaurant! It is wonky business logic such as this that has led to Kawan.

On a Thursday lunchtime, six weeks after opening and with Roger having long since had his photo taken on the steps and already departed, Kawan is largely deserted, other than its poor staff, who are pleasant as heck, but who have about them the air of stewards rearranging the Titanic’s sun loungers. There are precisely zero avid Gen Zers queuing to spend their money on the “firecracker rolls”, and no Gen X parents handing over their hard-earned to please their Uncle Roger-addicted offspring with the barbecued pork “aji-no-bun”. What few customers there are, meanwhile, are mostly couples in their mid-40s peering at the “choco-orange ribs” glazed with orange and chocolate, then wok-seared, and “inspired by Uncle Guga”, who is, apparently, one of Roger’s collaborators. That’s just one problem with creating a restaurant out of in-jokes: it’s like being handed a succession of phones showing memes you don’t understand. Or, worse, memes that you thought were funny nine months ago, but are now photocopied in the parish newsletter.

If Uncle Roger and his backers were preparing for 10 million hungry subscribers, Kawan’s bathroom absolutely isn’t. It’s a small, 1970s-style single loo with a Tesco Value toilet duck next to it. No, this isn’t clever staging. The stairs are wallpapered with comic book pages and already feel dated. It’s a cold, stark design that inspires you to eat up and get out as soon as possible. We size up the menu while a server ferries a dish with a long, pointy, upright handle to a nearby table: it’s “fried rice from the village”, AKA “spicy balachan egg fried rice, seafood and vegetables” for £15.90. She interrupts the conversation to make a very specific point: please don’t grab the bowl by the handle, or it will come off and the food will fall on the floor. She states this as if it’s a daily occurrence, and repeats it several times over the course of our visit. Wouldn’t it be easier, my guest wondered, simply to buy some bowls that don’t come apart? It’s very nice fried rice, by the way, but London’s Chinatown has an awful lot of great fried rice already.

The menu is split into four sections: For Niece & Nephew, or small plates and sharing dishes, Uncle Roger’s Takes on British Classics, which includes a £28.90 “Chinese wellington” and “fish and chips not inspired by Jamie”, Rice/Noodles and, finally, Happy Ending, a two-dessert selection including £8.90 “sizzling blue milo” dumplings the shade of Sesame Street’s Cookie Monster.

The British classics section features references to Uncle Roger’s nemesis, Jamie Oliver, as well as Gordon Ramsay, whom Roger seems a bit in love with. We imagine these will be ingenious takes on traditional dishes. Take those choco-orange ribs. The logic seems sound enough: duck à l’orange proves that citrus can work with strong, meaty dishes, many Asian classics work well with some sweet orange jamminess and chocolate orange is a very specific and sentimental British taste. Winner winner, Uncle Roger’s making dinner. This dish is bound to work. But it doesn’t. It’s hideous. It’s just ribs in a weird, brown sludge that’s neither chocolate nor orange, and more vaguely umami seepage. The wellington is even more peculiar: pastry-wrapped chicken with a cheap tablespoon of chopped iceberg and cherry tomato, some thin, vinegary coleslaw of the sort you find in a corner shop and a jug of pale-brown gravy. Who is this food for? Children won’t eat it. Adults might once, but never again.

We ordered the “golden parcel” wontons, which reminded me of Marks & Spencer party food, served on a salad that was basically red onion, then sat, struggling, in our seats like children in detention, dying to be set free. A woman across the room started poking her electric blue pudding dumplings with a face that resembled Edvard Munch’s scream.

Just the bill, I said. Oh, it’s a laugh, isn’t it?

• Kawan 12 Macclesfield Street, London W1 (no phone). Open all week, noon-10.30pm. From about £40 a head, plus drinks & service