Chelsea can be a daunting place. It’s one of the few places in London where people DO actually pay attention to what you’re wearing. Put an army-booted foot wrong in certain smart venues, and it’s back on the train to Wood Green where you belong!
In a district where there’s a shop selling door knobs for £300, and people called Tabitha fall out of art galleries drunk at 2am, somewhere like GOAT is a welcome respite. Slap bang in the middle of the notorious Fulham Road, this little pub-come-Italian is a cosily casual cableknit sweater in a supercilious sea of cashmere coats.
We arrived on a blisteringly blustery late February evening, and were welcomed in with characteristically Italian gusto. The staff are friendly without being overbearing, which is the winning formula, as restaurant staff go.
The clientele seemed mostly local – another good sign. Effortlessly cool young couples on a casual mid-week date nights, with the occassional raucous table of friends tucking into pizzas and merlot.
We went for pizzas ourselves – usually something more adventurous would have been on the cards, but the smells from the woodfire pizza oven were intoxicating, and the hangovers from the night before needed to be soaked up. One, sprinkled with san daniele ham and oozing with pesto and burrata (creamed buffalo mozzarella) was a winner for not just pizza of the night, but pizza of the decade.
We followed up with two almost insultingly decadent desserts – a mouthwatering cheesecake and possibly the most flawless fondant we’ve ever seen.
The people behind GOAT have discovered the holy grail of West London restauranteuring – taste without pretension, and good food without astronomical prices.
For more info and bookings, head to goatchelsea.com
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