Soo Dhawoow

Amongst Somalis, the phrase “Soo Dhawoow” means “welcome”. And just off Fulham Palace Road near Hammersmith, this hospitable term glows in neon red above a dark and unknown leading staircase, and down to a basement restaurant that is so much more than just somewhere you go to eat.

For generations of Somalis living in Shepherds Bush and White City, The Village has been a staple point for the community, a place to hang out, eat and connect to cultural values in a city that sets plenty of boundaries. It’s a West London pocket of Somali heritage that celebrates food from this East African region and provides a place for comfort, familiarity and union between people.

Hungry and in the area on a Monday afternoon, I popped into The Village for a quick lunch. Greeted warmly at the front door by Jibril, the owner, I wandered down the stairs and into a charmingly minimal and ordinary aesthetic. Themed in red and green, the colours of traditional Somali sauces, the restaurant’s style, yet simple, mildly intense and not the most sophisticated, just works.

I asked Jibril what he recommended to eat. He said it was all good and traditional. So I went with my instincts and ordered the samosa starter, the chicken and rice lunchtime deal as my main alongside a portion of the corn maize. In seconds, two sauces were brought out to accompany my samosa, a chili green one packing a punch and a red chutney to sweeten my palate and help take the edge off. Both complimented the hot crisp exterior and earthy interior of the samosa. The chicken and rice, generous in its portioning and humble in its presentation, was so much more complex than at first glance. With every bite, different herbs and spices popped up around my culinary periphery, taking the dish to a level beyond expected. For me, the corn maize was a big surprise. I never thought another starchy vegetable dish could rival the mighty mashed potato. But I was wrong. Served alongside a creamy green sauce, the dish became the most indulgent and delicious treat at the table. A final red sauce was brought out by the chef, which he stated was a very classic Somali sauce. Fragrant and pretty spicy, it enhanced each plate despite making me sweat. I asked what was in it and was told: “If I tell you, I’d have to kill you.”

For not very much money, you can eat like a king here. Everything from the side salad dressing to the cooking of the chicken is paid the utmost attention. You are fed with a sense of pride and generosity that feels truly special. But the star of the meal and the glue holding it all together, were the sauces. Each one was unique, colourful and versatile. Giving me a masterclass in how a sauce can elevate a plate of food.

After wiping the sweat away from my face, I chatted with Jibril about the history of The Village and its meaning to him. Growing up in London, he’d been going since he was a litte boy, conveying its importance to feeding and building unity between Somalis and other working-class communities in the area. Unfortunately, during Covid, like many restaurants, it closed. But after recently reopening in February, The Village is here to stay.

The Village is the epitome of what motivates me to explore and write all about London’s hidden gems. It’s what this blog is all about. I urge my readers to dine here and have a real Somali culinary experience. Restaurants like this need support and must never disappear. For the people working here, it’s an extension of Somali culture, a way of life, that is founded on pride, identity and beautiful intention.

95 Fulham Palace Road

London

W6 8JA