Since its launch in January 2018, Kudu has cemented itself as a Peckham gem – solid cooking, good plonk, and a proper platform for South African-influenced fare. In the saddle is Head Chef Patrick Williams, ex-sous at the now defunct Paradise Garage, who brings his heritage to the table with biltong, braai onion squash, and potjie pot cookery (think South African Dutch oven – no need to Google). His partner? Amy Corbin, daughter of Chris Corbin – yes, that Corbin, one half of the powerhouse duo behind The Wolseley, The Delaunay, and The Colony Grill. With pedigree like that, it’s no wonder Kudu’s got its groove.
They have a wine list created for those who love to drink the stuff.
We kick off with the farmer’s spice biltong (£5.50) – a neat pile of cured beef strips, each laced with just the right hit of spice. It’s chewy, savoury, and gloriously meaty, the kind of bowl you instinctively reach for between sips of something strong
The opening act: Kudu bread (£6). Think Parker House roll but lighter, fluffier, and served just warm enough to make you swoon. It arrives in its own skillet, paired with melted bacon butter – golden, glistening, with slinky parsley leaves drifting through the shimmer. This isn’t just bread; it’s a full-on invitation to tear, dredge, and devour.
Then came the peri peri duck hearts (£6.50), punchy with heat and dusted in dukkah – a toasted, nutty Middle Eastern spice blend that brings depth. A dollop of apricot compote sits alongside, just sweet enough to tame the fire and round out the bite.
Then came the curly Parmesan churros (£5.50), crisp, golden, and fresh from the fryer. They bring that irresistible crunch, while the brown crab mayo delivers an umami-rich, silky punch. A joy to eat, though a touch less grease wouldn’t go amiss.
First from the medium plates came a expertly crisped fillet of red mullet (£14), its skin golden and crisp. Curried cauliflower florets added warmth, while faintly wilted sea beets brought a touch of the wild. The beurre blanc, laced with herby oil, delivered the necessary acidic shove to pull it all together.
Next up, a sliced cylinder of duck and pork terrine (£13), rich and well-marbled. A coarsely chopped sauce gribiche brought brightness, while airy biltong scratchings added a welcome textural crunch.
Ricotta dumplings (£13), full of squidge like a well-made gnocchi, came with fibrous confit duck, crowned with deftly sliced button mushrooms. Everything sat in a pool of vivid green liquid – one that likely took time and precision to get right. The menu advertises shiitake – I went looking for it, but it went MIA.
A hunk of boneless confit duck (£13) arrives with crisp-edged discs of maitake mushrooms, their curled forms boasting a deep golden gradient. They fry things here a lot, and they do it brilliantly. A pile of luscious greenery – minestra nera, an Italian sprouting leaf – adds a fresh counterpoint to all that rich, meaty indulgence.
We order more vegetation in the form of braai onion squash £10, it’s sweetness is intensified from the coal cooking and is brought right back down with whipped goats curd. They must have fronds of Italian greens in the kitchen as cavalo nero is placed on top as is dandelion.
The one that stops the clock – of which there are a few – is the seared onglet (£18). Cooked rare, finished in its pan juices, and deepened with an intensely flavoured stock, it’s a punchy, full-throttle dish. The supporting cast? Smoky, pleasantly bitter puntarelle with crisp stems and dandelion – like leaves, charred enoki mushrooms adding umami intrigue, and a silky potato mousse to smooth it all out. A lot of action for for £18.
Beet dauphinoise £7 were layers of beetroot cooked down in a round skillet until it becomes sticky and caramelised with crisp edges. The melting earthy sweetness gets a good kick of savoury oregano and garlic.
We asked for all 3 of the deserts available with a pledge to order more of the one we found the most riveting – it was the malted chocolate ganache with sesame ice cream and a chocolate crumble that came up on top. It was a dessert that made out heart skip and we got 3 to share.
The coffee-poached pear (£7) with clove ice cream, parsnip custard, and sugar-coated oats was a dessert we were curious about – but maybe not destined for. It’s a bold, divisive plate, the kind that’ll split the room. We still crushed it, but it’s got Marmite energy – not your typical crowd-pleaser.
The pineapple tarte Tatin (£7) arrived with a glossy miso caramel glaze and a scoop of coconut ice cream – an ending that was both indulgent and refreshing. A little sweet, a little salty, and entirely delightful.
Verdict
When did I go? Jan 2018
The damage: Expect to pay £55/65 per head with wine
The good:I went to Kudu with an open mind, hoping for the best – I always do. Happily, it delivers on its promise and is genuinely a restaurant worth getting excited about. The onglet? A thing of beauty. The side puntarelle with crisp stems and dandelion and charred enoki mushrooms with the potato mousse was a striking meant too. But it’s not just that – they’ve got a deft touch across the board, from the Kudu bread to the duck hearts, the fish cookery, and even the desserts.
The bad: There aren’t any niggles worth mentioning, all I can say is that this 46 seater is a hub of welcoming homeliness.
Rating: 4/5
Would I go again? I’m surprised I haven’t already!
Address: 119 Queen’s Rd, Peckham, London SE15 2EZ
Web: https://www.kuducollective.com
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