Prelude by Oriole: Punchy, promising pop-up shows there’s good stuff to come

I love arriving a little early for a dinner reservation and grabbing a cocktail at the bar. It feels glamorous, and perusing a menu with a little buzz of tipsiness is always fun.

Timing is essential, though. You don’t want the table to be ready too quickly, so that you end up sipping your poorly chosen, probably overly sweet cocktail with a completely ill-matched starter. No one wants steak tartare with a twist on a pornstar; nor pâté and a pisco sour.

Which is why the premise of Prelude by Oriole – the team behind acclaimed bars Oriole, Nightjar and Bar Swift – is really quite exciting. There’s just as much emphasis on the drinks as there is the food – the former developed by bar manager Samet Ali, the latter by Argentinian head chef Gustavo Giallionardo. “Drinks have been expertly paired with the food menu to create a rounded culinary experience” – meaning no gross couplings that shouldn’t be seen dead together, let alone consumed.

Prelude by Oriole is a three-month pop-up, intending to act as a sort of research and development space before Oriole’s second iteration (the original site closed in Smithfield in 2022 due to the redevelopment of the market) opens permanently this summer.

With that in mind, it’s definitely a little experimental. For people like me, the thought of trying new, risque things while they’re still being fine-tuned is an exciting one. For fussy eaters, perhaps not. But if you’re planning on going with one, let them know there’s a savoury green curry ice cream on the menu (more on that later). Or tell them to grow up.

There’s no one cuisine at play here. As with the namesake Oriole birds, the menu flies across the world and back again, offering everything from Nikkei (Japanese-Peruvian fusion) to Argentine-Italian cuisines. It’s intriguing, and the lack of limitation means the scope for this place is massive. Intimidating, even.

Scallop tiradito (Peruvian raw fish), kiwi and edamame aguachile (a sort of Mexican ceviche) is delicate, zingy and fresh. Shards of deep-fried taco sit atop, adding contrast to the soft, muted textures. It’s a great dish, and somehow goes exceptionally well with my acadia cocktail – “a playful take on a whisky Sour inspired by the peanut butter and jelly sandwich”. I know restaurants like to harp on about perfect pairings etc etc, but clearly a lot of thought has gone into the marriage of food and drink here for this to work.

Duck, orange mole and tamal combines that classic French flavour with Mexican technique. The duck is cooked gorgeously and the orange mole makes the whole dish come together and sing. It’s my first time trying tamal. It won’t be my last. Sirloin sando with tonkatsu chipotle is devilishly good – seared steak in squares of white, childhood-esque bread, toasted on one side, with a smoky dipping sauce. It’s one that even the fuss pots should enjoy.

We’re brought a couple of things that aren’t on the menu yet, adding to the research-y feel. Coal-blackened leeks covered in a creamy bechamel are divine; so soft, you could spread them on toast. A piece of pork cooked on their new grill is, no exaggeration, the best piece of pork I’ve ever eaten. It had the hard-to-achieve balance of a sizzled, crunchy outside with an incredibly juicy inside. I savoured it as much as I could as I’m convinced it’ll be a long time before I eat a piece of meat cooked with that much perfection again.

Then there’s the pumpkin, peanut sambal and green curry ice cream – a wacky sort of deconstructed Thai green curry. It’s strange and albeit not my favourite of the evening, but there’s no denying it’s enjoyable in a thought, and palate, provoking sort of way. At least the veggies and vegans won’t be able to complain about being lumped with a boring, forgettable dish.

The drinks really are extra special here, whether it’s the aforementioned acadia arriving with a chilled, maple leaf-shaped chocolate balancing on the ice, a chinca alta with a wad of aniseed candy floss sticking out the top, or a saraburi punch served with a spoon of mango sorbet – there’s fun and theatre throughout. Speaking of theatre, there’s a pre-theatre menu of a cocktail and two plates for £25 – a solid deal considering the location, calibre of food and strength of the cocktails. I’m not joking about the strength, ahem... by my third drink I was ready to paint the town red.

If all this isn’t promising enough, the staff are a fantastic bunch. They’re very friendly, knew exactly when we were ready for another drink and had extensive knowledge of all the food – no mean feat considering the menu’s breadth. Finish up on a burnt matcha and white chocolate cheesecake, the ideal bittersweet finish, and stumble into the night, full, happy and nicely pissed.

Just over £100 for food and cocktails for two people. The pre-theatre menu with two plates and one cocktail is £25.

23 Slingsby Place, London, WC2E 9AB | info@oriolebar.com | oriolebar.com