As a loyal carnivore, I find that few dedicated vegetarian restaurants have — what I like to call — fun. Harvest bowls and oats bombard menus as they sit proudly beside minimum spends of £25 a dish. The playfulness that should come naturally to the vibrant pinks, purples, greens and oranges that live in vegetables is often lost as soon as the venue adopts a label that ropes itself into a dietary restriction. A bummer, because despite my unwillingness to cut meat out, vegetables are far and away my favourite food group. Holy Carrot, though, is different.

Vegetarian restaurants in London are not bored, nor must they wield the tired title of restrictive or bland; with a colourful eye, with an excited approach, vegetarian restaurants are simply restaurants. Holy Carrot is a restaurant; it is a good one.

Mallory, Junior Food & Drink Editor

What sets it apart

Despite Daniel Watkins’ self-proclaimed title of “man of few words” coupled with his witty, albeit self-deprecating, sense of humour, the menu he has created for the new and improved Holy Carrot location in Spitalfields is best described as whimsical. That being said, as lighthearted as sexy tofu and blueberry burrata are, the technique exercised within the kitchen is nothing if not tactical, perhaps even masterful. 

What sets Holy Carrot apart is its refusal to treat vegetables as a compromise. There is no sense of substitution here, no attempt to mimic meat or persuade diners that they are sacrificing something. Instead, vegetables are given centre stage with the same ambition, confidence and care that many restaurants reserve for expensive cuts of beef or pristine seafood. It’s crafted a result that is a menu that is indulgent rather than virtuous, a team that is playful rather than preachy.

A peek into the fermentation station in Holy Carrot’s kitchen

Holy Carrot’s greatest achievement is not that it serves exceptional vegetarian food, but that it renders the distinction largely irrelevant.

What we ordered

devilled egg with chilli hazelnut salsa (£6); gildas pickle skewer (£3); crunchy new season radishes with whipped tahini (£8)
King oyster mushrooms vol-au-vent with lyonnaise onion and rich peppercorn sauce (£19); tempeh & smoked tofu schnitzel, celeriac remoulade — cafe de paris butter (£18); Caesar side (£8)

Our order saw dishes that have and will most likely be staples of the menu (lucky for any of my daring recommendation takers). There were green gildas, deviled eggs with hazelnut salsa, and piles of radishes aside whipped tahinis. 

There is no sense of substitution here, no attempt to mimic meat or persuade diners that they are sacrificing something.

Khachapuri — molten cheese, egg yolk, black pepper (£16)

There was khachapuri, a more than generous pizza dough that acted as a bowl for molten cheese made better only by an erotic pop of an egg yolk and a cheese pull that would have Wingstop fall to its greasy little knees.  

A true shocker for me, perhaps even a reality check in the lengths to which you can push tofu, was tempeh and smoked tofu schnitzel with celeriac remoulade. Big words, eh? Big flavour, too. The tofu was crispy, with an integrity which much of its meaty inspirations lack. To me, this dish was strong, confident, like a firm handshake after a successful business meeting. 

Acheese pull that would have Wingstop fall to its greasy little knees.  

Deep-fried and glistening mushrooms alongside one of the better Caesar salads I have had as of late (perhaps due to my slight disdain for too-much-anchovy) proved that vegetarian restaurants in London are not bored, nor must they wield the tired title of restrictive or bland; with a colourful eye, with an excited approach, vegetarian restaurants are simply restaurants. Holy Carrot is a restaurant; it is a good one.

Verdict

Holy Carrot’s greatest achievement is not that it serves exceptional vegetarian food, but that it renders the distinction largely irrelevant. In an era where many vegetable-led restaurants lean heavily on virtue, restriction or earnestness, Daniel Watkins has built something far more compelling: a restaurant driven by flavour, technique and a sense of fun. Rather than asking diners to compromise, Holy Carrot offers something better: a reminder that vegetables, in the right hands, can be every bit as indulgent as anything else on the table.

Daniel Watkins has built something far more compelling: a restaurant driven by flavour, technique and a sense of fun.


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