Little Quiet: The latest – and most clandestine – venture from Disappearing Dining Club

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: there’s nothing more impressive than turning up to a totally unassuming front door on a super residential street, and then pulling out a serious royal flush in the date stakes. Little Quiet, from Disappearing Dining Club, is such a win.
Sandwiched between a couple of houses near Barbican station, it’s the last place you expect to stumble across such a trendy, dimly lit bolthole – and be handed a welcome cocktail as you take a seat. This is clandestine to the max.
Food-wise, the choice is a simple two, three or six courses – and I recommend going the whole hog with the tasting menu, for the full DDC experience. These guys have honed the art of dinner to a tee; dishes always contain a hint of Scandinavia, thanks to the skilful Swedish head chef (think yellow gazpacho soup, home-smoked salmon and Eton Mess with a liquorice twist), and the wine list is spot-on.
It may look unassuming and pared back at first glance, but Little Quiet is shouting loud on the London dining scene – and you’d do well to head on over before the secret gets out.

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