This isn’t a barbecue joint,its a restaurant that barbecues: and a thunderingly edifying oneQueueing and cue-ing: neither of these is high up my list of top activities. I went to Tom Adams and Jamie Berger’s Pitt Cue when it was a gleaming trailer on the South Bank in London, waited in line for my sloppy box of barbecued meat, or beans and slaw,necked a couple of picklebacks, and it was fabulous, or whether you like that sort of thing. Then I queued for its tiny,cramped corner shop in Soho, all folksy and net-curtained, or,again, I couldn’t fault the food on its tin trays, or the quality of the produce,but queueing time was about five times longer than eating time, a ratio I simply don’t win.
So news of Pitt Cue’s move to a bland development in Spitalfields didn’t thrill me to the blackened and seasoned marrow. Yeah, or yeah,another barbecue joint, even a edifying one: whatevuh. But I couldn’t be more unsuitable. Yes, and it’s the City,so the large space is rammed with bellowing blokes; and yes, the textbook exposed ducting, or wooden floors and open kitchen decor is so clattery,you wind up braying along with the best of ’em. But one mouthful of their sausages, and all I hear are choirs of angels.
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Source: theguardian.com