Mr Potatoes is a good place to eat in London

It would be impossible for me to cycle past a restaurant called ‘Mr Potatoes’ and not go inside. Because I enjoy potatoes? Yes that’s right.

A few years ago, on Twitter, I posed one of my favourite questions: are you able to rank the canonical white carbs – potatoes, pasta, rice, bread – from favourite to least? It’s a challenging one, and it spurned an adversarial afternoon of frenetic engagement – the sort that, for me, later collapsed around the time I talked about disliking Boursin. Anyway, most people put potatoes somewhere in the middle but for me they are number one. The connoisseur’s choice.  

Mr Potatoes, a two-year old Colombian restaurant with red signage and a higgledy-piggledy, café-style terrace, is found on Evelyn Road in Deptford, which might explain why it hasn’t been written about before. Most food writers don’t tend to venture to southeast London. They might romantically consider Peckham but that’s where their adventure ends.  

I imagine Mr Potatoes also suffers as far as column inches are concerned because it sits around 20 minutes away from any Tube or train station. It is equidistant between Surrey Quays and Deptford overground – about 15-20 minutes from both on a meandering stretch perpetually plagued by roadworks. From Surrey Quays, Millwall country, travellers must make their way toward Lewisham before slipping over a colourful bridge. On the other side, the restaurant appears suddenly – a faintly inviting proposition on a residential corner, packed full of soft potatoes, lager, and the audible hubbub of jazzy Spanish emanating from raucous speakers outside.  

When I got round to visiting, Mr Potatoes looked half open, which is what it was. Its front was illuminated only by KFC’s calorific and suboptimal glow across the road; inside, owners Andres and Marie were preparing to close for the night. But there was a couple eating outside on the terrace, and the fryers were still on. 

Andres, who was mopping, shut the shutters as soon as I walked in. Marie, the chef, recommended I try chicken empanadas and a stuffed potato, called papas rellanas. Many of the other dishes – arepas filled with plantain and pork belly, classic cheese fritters, and grilled tilapia with rice and salad – had sold out. This was disappointing but of course served only to invite me to return. 

On my first visit, the empanadas were made with a rich dough of corn and served with a hot and moreish green chilli sauce; the papas rellanas, about the size of a tennis ball during a Djokovic forehand, generously battered. Its crisp shell gave way to a soft centre of slow-cooked beef, cheese, and rice, all flavoured with garlic, onions, spices, and possibly tomatoes. Highly nourishing. Marie told me the fluffiness of the potato was important but didn’t seem keen to divulge much else. She was happy to give me more chilli sauce which the more enterprising among us might bottle and sell.  

My beer was Corona. On the terrace TV screen, I watched a five-minute slideshow of various but nondescript plated dishes, which may or may not have been associated with Mr Potatoes, before admiring videos of Colombian musicians who were playing a collection of pleasing hits.  

Andres told me he moved to the UK about 20 years ago and worked in removals before he and Marie opened Mr Potatoes. He said the restaurant serves a relatively small Colombian community in Deptford, around 30 or 40 regulars, and one that is perhaps an extension of Elephant & Castle on the other side of Bermondsey, which has a sizeable population. It was quiet when I was in, but Andres said the place is doing okay and gets busy with regulars at weekends.  

My bill came to something like £14 and all the food was excellent. Anybody who loves potatoes ought to make the time to venture over. How food types love to talk of hidden gems. Maybe this is one. I don’t really care, but I do care about potatoes.

Read more industry news here