Gunpowder Spitalfields

Chettinad pulled duck at the London pass

Chettinad pulled duck lands on oothappam at the pass where Stuart Tattersall, Chef at Gunpowder Spitalfields in Spitalfields, London, works in a shorter register than the estate kitchen that shaped his earlier cooking. From 2014, he was Chef Patron at The Gunton Arms, where Norfolk venison and local beef tied the menu to a precise landscape. At Gunpowder, that control moves into Modern Indian small plates, with Kolkata home cooking and regional Indian influence doing the structural work.

The restaurant opened in 2015 as the first site in the group, a small White’s Row room that set the method before later addresses followed. Its Michelin Bib Gourmand arrived in 2016 and has stayed with the Spitalfields house. Tattersall’s role here is not described through spectacle; it shows in how a dish is held to a narrow frame. Chettinad pulled duck is the clearest marker attached to his London work, a preparation that gives the menu a fixed point while the wider table moves through Kashmiri, Nagaland, mustard, tamarind, yoghurt, sev, and smoke.

Small plates with heat in short runs

The format matters. Gunpowder does not build its meal around a long tasting sequence; it works through small plates, ordered in clusters, each one carrying its own seasoning and texture. The known menu has included around 20 dishes, a compact architecture that lets the kitchen move between crisp, soft, sour, smoky, and hot without asking one plate to carry the whole argument.

Maa’s Kashmiri Lamb Chops bring the grill into the room with a marinade built for smoke and tenderness. Gunpowder Chaat stacks potato, chickpea, yoghurt, sweet tamarind, and sev so heat and coolness arrive together. Nagaland Crispy Pork Ribs use tamarind kachumber for sweet, tang, and spice, the kind of plate that asks for hands rather than distance. Mustard Malai Broccoli gives the vegetable section its own weight, not a concession. The wine program stays curated and the drinks lean to craft cocktails, but the food sets the tempo; the pass works best when several plates arrive in quick succession and the table has to keep up.

Brick, stools, and a cramped counter

The room keeps little space between the bench and the guest. Exposed brick, dark wood, hanging bulbs, high tables, and stools make the original Spitalfields site feel close to the work, not insulated from it. It is a small room, often described as 20 to 28 covers, and that narrowness changes the food. Plates cross the room quickly. Smoke, frying, spice, and conversation sit in the same air.

There is no softened dining-room hush here. The lamb chop board has been part of the restaurant’s rhythm, a visible reminder that some dishes run out because the kitchen makes them in finite batches. In that setting, Tattersall’s Chettinad pulled duck reads less like a signature on paper than a working plate at White’s Row.