Coal Rooms Peckham is no more, but its replacement is far better.

Given that I’ve now been reviewing restaurants for 15-odd years, it’s perhaps surprising that I haven’t been to more restaurants that have taken over the premises previously occupied by another restaurant. If there’s one constant in London’s restaurant scene, then it’s one of seemingly constant churn, evolution and reinvention.

Hausu sits within the former ticket office of Peckham Rye station, previously home of the Coal Rooms, which was an underwhelming Temper-a-like. The main dining room, kitchen counter and the toilets haven’t changed hugely since Coal Rooms’ day. Hausu’s menu, which refreshes reasonably frequently, on the other hand is very different from that stolid, monolithic meat feast with a selection of dishes that pulls in eclectic influences from all over.

Starters and side dishes at Hausu

There’s clearly a personal story behind the Dad’s Broth. Whatever it is, I hope it’s as warming as its bowl-inhabiting namesake. This thin soup thrummed with the astringent tang of lemongrass, warming the cockles.

The ox heart ragu had, unlike so many others, a firm bite despite being minced. The crunchy toast didn’t get in the way of this or its fine umami.

A ceviche-like heap of tuna was both umami and fruity sweet in equal measure.

Reinterpretations of prawn toast, that classic staple of anglicised Chinese takeaways, are popping up here and there. Hausu’s attempt took the form of a rough sphere, with the carbs on the outside and a briney surimi/fish ball-esque mix of minced scallops and prawns on the inside. A lightly spiced sauce was served on the side for dipping. It was far from bad, but neither was it especially memorable. While anyone familiar with Cantonese cuisine won’t bat an eyelid at the fish ball-ish texture and construction, I fear it might put off anyone else expecting a more literal, maximalist version of the dish.

If you want a scallop starter with visually identifiable mollusks, because of whatever mental twitch, then grilled whole scallops are on the menu every now and then. They were reasonably firm and plump, although the crisp seaweed was more consistently pleasing in terms of texture. The XO-like sauce was umami and chewy, but not especially spicy.

Hausu’s crispy pork belly reminded me of hong shao rou, each bite was crispy then fatty, honking with rich caramelisation.

’Tokyo Turnips’, accompanied by sesame, pickled ginger and leek ash, certainly sounded intriguing on the menu. Then reality was much more mundane: firm turnips with a reasonably yielding follow through bathed in a lightly creamy and rather shrug inducing sauce.

Pumpkin, gourd and squash haters should turn away now. Yieldingly tender and sweet slices of pumpkin were complimented well by the crunch of hazelnuts and the creaminess of melted Colston Bassett.

Hausu’s panelle were more crumbly and not quite as nutty or as moreish as those sometimes available at Mercato Metropolitano, but it was still enjoyable enough. The one-dimensional heat of the srirarcha sauce was hardly needed.

Hausu’s lamb agnolotti was so superlative that it should serve as a stern rebuke to the countless Italian restaurants treading water across the land. Each pasta parcel was toothsomely yielding and filled with earthy, sinewy meat. Shavings of umami parmesan were the proverbial cherry on top.

Whole ratte potatoes were tender with a transient nutty butteriness. The miso confit garlic was also notably underpowered, all of which made for an underwhelming side dish.

Charred leaks were soft, slippery and not too difficult to cut into scoffable sized portions. They proved to be a fine textural conveyor for the zestiness and creaminess of the lemon soubise.

Main dishes at Hausu

A 750g slab of ex-dairy sirloin is perhaps one of Hausu’s few culinary acknowledgements of the restaurant that used to occupy its premises. Cooked medium rare, the expertly crisped mantle cracked apart with ease, while the pink meat delivered its umami with moist aplomb. The fat could’ve been rendered further, while the chilli and lime butter was disappointingly meek, but this was still a fine example of the edible bovine arts.

Wild mushroom rice was much like risotto, each small/medium-sized grain of rice neatly separated and possessed of a gentle milkiness. A variety of firm, bouncy and earthy mushrooms capped off a fine vegetarian-friendly main.

Delicately milky plaice peeled off the bone with ease. Although the promised kelp had little to say for itself, the burnt lemon butter gave the fish surprisingly complimentary notes of citrus and milk.

Pork collar was almost like lamb in its earthiness. While it had a firm bite and tender follow through, its relative lack of rich fat meant that the sour apple sauce and tart, firm quince felt almost redundant. Even so, with a bit of refinement, this dish could be a real winner.

Desserts at Hausu

The fruitiness of the blood peach and pink peppercorn sorbet was neither here nor there, tasting much like a weak blood orange.

Toasted rice ice cream was far better with a delicate nuttiness. But it would’ve been only half a dessert without the five spice caramel. Alongside the unusually bold strength of the caramelisation was umami and an astringent pepperiness, courtesy of five spice. It was more like an unusually flavoured parfait than a more traditional refreshing ice cream. Which is all the more reason that it should be an absolute classic. 

The senior partner in the yoghurt and honey ice cream most definitely wasn’t the honey. The bold lactic tang was dominant, easily overwhelming the transient floral sweetness of the honey.

A tart of chocolate, orange and saffron was unconvincing on all counts. The thin pasty broke apart easily, but was otherwise forgettable. That might’ve been fine if the filling was more bold and sassy, but it was a sadly meek affair all round.

Hausu’s financier was only half a financier, but at least it had a toothsomely chewy crust with a soft follow through. Although the unidentifiable compote had only a moderate sweetness and the custard was meek, both somehow pepped up when taken with the financier, with everything coming together nicely.

Non-alcoholic drinks at Hausu

Coconut soda was a bit too mild, but it was still suitably fizzy and tropical.

Plum vinegar really was a vinegar, rather than a kombucha, puckering one’s lips with its tartness. I’m still not sure what to think of it, or whether I’d have it again. At least it’s not boring or forgettable, which is easily said of so many non-alcoholic drinks.

The Verdict

While there’s plenty of joy to be had from Hausu’s kitchen, its efforts are surprisingly uneven with just as many milquetoast duds as there were dishes of verve and technique. Despite this, it’s an easy place to recommend (it was where I told several good friends about my stroke). The best seats at the house, perhaps second only to the kitchen counter, are in the ‘foyer’ (for the lack of a better tern) which is not only quieter than the main dining room, but has an atmosphere that’s just as warm and welcoming as the service.

Hausu isn’t the untrammelled blockbuster that I hoped it would be. But I’d still be sorrowful if I was back at the same premises in nine years’ time, thinking about how it used to be the home of Hausu.

Name: Hausu

Address: 11a Station Way, Peckham Rye Station, London SE15 4RX

Phone: 020 4618 6101

Web: https://www.hausulondon.co.uk

Opening Hours: Tuesday-Friday 18.00 – 22.00. Saturday noon-22.00. Closed Sunday-Monday.

Reservations: highly recommended.

Average cost per person, including soft drinks, when shared between two: £80 approx.

Rating: ★★★☆☆