London’s blase restaurant-goers are always looking for something different. If beef, chicken, lamb and cod are causing ennui, might crocodile, zebra, wildebeest and locusts kick-start your gastric juices? If so, head to Archipelago, a little restaurant secreted in a side street off Warren Street, the decor of which is as eccentric as its menu.

The Venue
Walking into Archipelago is an eye-popping experience and a maximalists’ delight: vases of peacock feathers and artfully mismatched cutlery and glassware adorn the tables, paintings and masks from around the world cover the walls. A glittering, glamorous, slim, Thai Buddha surveys the warmly-lit, irregular-shaped room. Colours are bold, earthy greens and reds. The menus are rolled-up scrolls, camply secured with a silk flower; the drinks list pops out of a cylindrical treasure box. To call this place theatrical would be an understatement.

The Atmosphere
Young couples and groups of friends are relaxed and animated and apparently unafraid of the forthcoming culinary challenges. Some groups become a little raucous as the night wears on; unsurprising, perhaps, when the waiter dons head mirror and case (known as a doctor’s visit) to create shooters at their table. Service is efficient and well-paced, with staff sensibly keen to explain the outre dishes fully, and to assure customers that the more unusual ingredients are farmed and from sustainable sources.

The Food
Starters don’t seem nearly so weird once you inspect the list closely: who would take fright at spiced chestnut soup (£7) or manouri (semi-soft, white, Greek cheese) baklava (£8), for instance, or even deep-fried beet ravioli (£7.50)? For the intrepid, however, crocodile fillet seared in vine leaves with plum dipping sauce (£10.50) is a must: the meat is lusciously tender, tasting like pork with a slight fishy overtone whilst its surrounding vine leaves are crisp, and the plum sauce deliciously tangy. Wild duck breast with pomegranate and pistachio salad (£10.50) is almost as good. Spinach and rocket comes astringently dressed, whilst the jewel-like pomegranate seeds suit not only the salad but also the room. The only downside is the duck whose life was perhaps just a tad too wild: it’s a bit chewy.

Granites (granitas, or crystallised sorbets) are offered next. Both mango and lychee, and coconut and pineapple do their palate-cleansing job, but are fairly meagre portions of only gently-flavoured ice crystals. It seems a bit steep to charge £2.50 a go: shouldn’t intercourse cleansers be complimentary?

It’s the mains where unusual ingredients abound. Whilst scared-y-cats are still well catered for with roast chicken breast Thai peanut curry (£16.50) and vegetable, cashew and callaloo (Caribbean greens) stir-fry (£13.50), zebra, kangaroo, wildebeest and frogs’ legs all beckon the adventurous. The seared zebra comes with a port and blackcurrant sauce and sour green mango soba noodles (£19.50). The meat medallions again resemble pork but taste a bit beefier. The gratifyingly sour sauce makes perfect sense, just as it would with venison, lamb or any number of other meats. The noodles are correctly al dente and well-seasoned with chunks of still crisp mange tout, not an easy thing to get right. Spicy gnu stew with aromatic cabbage and kubz (mini pitas) (£19) is actually a rich, dark and fairly fierce curry which may take some palates by surprise. The meat is meltingly tender, however, and the cabbage and bread, perfect foils.

Talking of fiercely hot, the bugs in the love bug salad (£7.50) will have you reaching for the water jug, too: whilst the crickets and locusts are delightfully crunchy, they’ve been oven-dried with ginger, garlic and a heck of a lot of chilli. The waiter theatrically shines a torch so that you can see them lurking amid the rocket and spinach, so there’s no pretending they aren’t really there. A delicious, sweetish dressing at least tones down the chilli a bit.

From a list of six puddings, granadilla (a type of passion fruit) bavarois (£6.50) is a well-made, light-textured, set mousse topped with Champagne jelly and gold leaf. A few grapefruit segments dotted around the plate balance it beautifully. So many places still offer the cliched trinity of chocolate, strawberry and vanilla ice cream with maybe a lemon or orange sorbet if you’re lucky but, of course, that would never do at Archipelago where both the ices and sorbets (each £6) are outstanding both in invention and execution. Chocolate and rosewater, and peach and black treacle ice creams are unlikely but inspired combinations. Kiwi and ginger sorbet works equally brilliantly. The only tiny disappointment is the lack of pepper in strawberry and paprika sorbet but it’s still fabulously fruity.

The Drink
A compact, international list features 10 whites, five roses, 14 reds and three dessert wines priced from £17.50 to £52.50. No wines are advertised by the glass: upon asking, it transpires that only the cheapest red and white are available this way which is disappointing and unusual these days. The upside is that the cheapest red, a Marques de Caza Tempranillo, Terra de Castilla is spicy, clean, full of red fruit and value at £17.50.

Additionally, there are eight sparkling options, plus a small wine section entitled ‘Rare & Fine’ of which Meursault, Rougeots, Coche-Dury (from France) is the priciest white at £230. It’s the reds that really cause the jaw to hit the floor, however: four or them break the four-figure barrier, including a Petrus, Pomerol (France) at £7,630.

The Last Word
This isn’t a cheap night out: three courses plus half a bottle of modest wine will set you back £50 to £60. But it’s also unforgettable, fun and highly unusual: how often do you crunch bugs, sample zebra or feast on gnu stew? Some of the spicing could be a little lighter but, otherwise, the cooking is good to great. And it’s worth going just to experience the room.

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