No really, that’s its name. Used to be a clothing factory in Bethnal Green. Still looks like a clothing factory too. Cross the Regent’s Canal heading away from Hackney and swing a left down a side street with a Jasmine Allen lurking at the end. Pass the Thai boxing gym and cross over. There’s a bin outside. Up some stairs, through the kitchen and you’re there, new restaurant.

Right, poor punning, non-location, no advertising. So why was it busy yesterday lunch-time? I think a combination of tasty lunches, reasonable prices and bright service. With these things in place, you forget you’re eating lunch in a clothing factory with a daft name.

Menu is split into daily specials, mains and sides, a French influence in several dishes (I like to think the concept of the name preceeded the cooking). I had the vegetarian tart with a side of new potatoes. The sauce (mushroom and white wine draped over crumbling pastry) left a fizz on the tongue lasting into the evening. The wine list was wide ranging, if unadventurous and the bottles of mineral water, huge.

The restaurant (and separate downstairs bar) trade on their inauspicious location, offering irreverent directions and bypassing traditional marketing. Wednesday night is set aside for Transvestite Lip Synchronicity. ‘500 cash prize. The Sunday afternoon crowd wore clothes that seemed to fit other people. I guess they were artists. The skinhead in the scarf and orange cotton trousers spent the whole time saying (loudly) how wonderful Bethnal Green was, as if every street had a warehouse converted into a minimalist restaurant. Taxi for Hoxton tosser.

Bethnal Green isn’t known for modern cuisine and perhaps it never will be. It’s there though, shy behind the factory doors. If you can find it.