Wahaca, Soho

Tommi Miers is beautiful, successful and an immense proponent of a cause that’s Wahaca. With the latest opening in Soho we can now anticipate Wahaca to standardise the running and practices of all their restaurants. The long and the short of it- Tommi’s baby has evolved into a monster restaurant chain. Expect the worst.

Since there’s going to be an onslaught of reviews cascading from elsewhere I might as well do away with mine and bore you at will.

Three things stood out during the evening I was there.-

Men’s loo- where art thou? This is where modern interior design takes the piss proverbial, blissful ignorance resulting in undeserving annoyance to the public. Every bloke should be rewarded with a bottle of tasteless Sol beer if they manage to navigate their way to the little boy's room.
(Chaps, the above might resemble a sight for sore eyes but it’s actually the communal wash basin shared with the girls. You’ve been warned!)

The air conditioning. Sit under one of them and your bottles of beer will thank you for it but any food sitting on the table will begin to freeze into some congealed gloop in no time.

Dehydrated rice- nothing infuriates me more than rice that has been cooked hours (or perhaps days) before and, left drying and subsequently roasting under a heat lamp. The grains were inedible and hard enough to take out your fillings. Poor.

Less memorable was the food we had.

Black Bean Tostadas-

The only palatable dish but drowned by the excessive watery content from the tomato salsa.

Autumn Burrito-

A vegetarian option that promised feta and avocado. Unfortunately the two featured components were lacking, it was just a wrap full of rice and black beans- soulless and bland beyond belief. To be honest the much lambasted Chipotle serves up a much better one here.

Chicken Enchilada-

Mole poblano (a sauce from Oaxaca) was ordered but the salsa verde version appeared instead. Seeing that I was about to throw another wobbly I somewhat restrained and tolerated what was placed in front of me. This was the dish that came with the aggrieved rice. Having taken the woes of the cold air blasting from the air conditioner into consideration, the not so piping hot chicken filling was plainly pedestrian and the roasted onions were basically raw. Disappointing, so much so it reminisces a ready meal so beloved by the microwave oven devotees. I wouldn’t be surprised to see such Wahaca products appearing in the supermarket chillers soon.

Chorizo and Potato Quesadillas-

OMG, this was the kind of last resort thing you had to eat that has been dispensed from a vending machine. It was impervious to deliciousness, period.

Two things worth noting. The service is charming and efficient. Secondly Wahaca takes on a whole new meaning when it comes to the speed of which food is served, like my enchilada turning up before I could verbalize Cuauhtémoc Blanco Bravo. Honestly a Big Mac meal takes longer at McDonald’s!

I’m perturbed, as I’m also worried about my more favourable experiences at the Covent Garden and Westfield branches. What I had here in Soho was pure and simple chainslop. Is Wahaca becoming a victim of its own expanding success? I rest my case.




Wardour Street
Soho
London W1F 0TF

www.wahaca.co.uk