Some restaurants hand you a menu; Da Terra presses play…

There is something quietly rebellious about this restaurant that doesn’t shout its brilliance but rather invites you to discover it, like a lovingly compiled mixtape passed between friends, revealing its tracks slowly, deliberately, each one with a story to tell.

Housed inside Bethnal Green’s old Town Hall (which in the early 2000s was elegantly transformed into a hotel), Da Terra doesn’t immediately announce itself. The building’s grand Edwardian façade, all symmetry and stone, might suggest something stiff or formal. But a discreet brass plaque and the soft thrum of music leaking through the door hint at something else entirely: a place that prefers to speak in rhythm, not volume.

Inside, it feels like someone pressed pause on the outside world. Instead, you put on your headphones: the city hushes, the groove starts, and you’re suddenly tuned to another frequency; one composed by chef‑patron Rafael Cagali and general‑manager Charlie Lee, and one that had me humming a tune I didn’t even know I knew by heart.

The evening begins in the lounge, a soft ochre-painted room that feels like a lived-in sketchbook of memories. Brazilian-inspired artworks from local independent artists fill the walls, whilst shelves hold artefacts from Rafael and Charlie’s travels: reminders of people and places that shaped them. The music? samba-laced soul and bossa nova tunes with an ‘80s undercurrent, a nod to Rafael’s roots and musical sensibility. You’re not here to be impressed. You’re here to feel something.

This is fine dining with its shoes off

Settling into a comfortable armchair with a glass of Hundred Hills sparkling wine (elegant, citrusy, effortlessly cool) the first bites arrive like the soft overture to a symphony. A buckwheat croustade with turbot mousse and minty peas plays a delicate intro, leading into a playful single-bite Caesar salad that riffs on memory and tradition. The tempo lifts with smoked eel mousse brightened by confit lemon and English asparagus, before a cassava terrine crowned with confit tomatoes and sweet carabinero prawn drops like a perfectly timed hook – bold and unexpected.

There’s no menu handed out. No list of what’s coming. Just a printed card listing only the “main instruments” alongside the wine list – not to explain, but to assist. The rest? Trust.

So let’s hand over control, lean in and let the setlist unfold one track at a time…

Beyond a soft black curtain, the dining room waits. Light spills through tall windows onto tabletops wrapped not in stiff white linen, but in soft, earthy cloths – tactile, tonal, gently imperfect. Atop each is a distinct hand-carved Brazilian animal crafted by a local Brazilian artist from recycled Amazonian rainforest wood. These animals, each endangered or extinct, spark quiet conversations about deforestation and climate change without preaching – a subtle but powerful gesture woven into the dining experience. On our table sat a Pirarucu, the largest river fish of the Amazon, a beautiful reminder of what’s at stake.

Rafael and Charlie designed the entire space themselves. It seats just 28, with no table turns for either lunch or dinner service. There’s no rush here, no spectacle. It’s dinner party energy, if the hosts happened to be quietly producing some of the best two-Michelin-star food in London.

The kitchen is open – not theatrically, but naturally – just there, part of the room, where the team moves with perfect flow. This ‘behind-the-scenes’ yet ‘in-front-of-your-eyes’ look into how Rafael and Charlie nurture their team with genuine care and vision is exactly what every restaurant should be doing – transparency as emotional currency.

The culture here strips away the macho bravado often associated with fine dining, instead fostering softness, balance, and camaraderie. Professional development is a priority, and much like the ever-evolving menu, the team are encouraged to hone their creativity and experimentation, to truly experience the food they are cooking. The payoff is palpable: a relaxed team yet focused, dancing to their perfectly curated 80s soundtrack between tasks with smiles, and creating an atmosphere where authenticity and fun thrive alongside Michelin-star quality – all overlooked by Rafael’s playful “ninja turtle” mascot that remains perched on the pass throughout service.

There is true warmth and personality beneath the precision

But what about the food itself? The menu plays out like a mixtape of Rafael’s life: Brazilian, Italian, Japanese, English, and Spanish influences layer into one another with seamless transitions.

The first full course arrives at the soft opening chords of Crowded House’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over” – chalk stream trout with nashi pear, salted daikon, finger lime, confit lemon jam, burnt chive oil, and pear sauce. Fresh and delicate, the bright acidity and smoky undertones hooked me like a catchy chorus, a perfect opening track.

The next dish, celeriac tortellini served in a teacup with broth theatrically poured from a teapot, is a celebration of wholeness. Every element of the humble vegetable shines – from puree and tart to smoked egg yolk and celeriac pastrami on toasted brioche with pickled damson jam – the broth finishing with a surprising kick of sancho pepper. It’s a playful homage to using every ingredient with reverence, savouring every track without skipping a beat.

The comforting rhythm continued with sourdough bread served alongside cultured butter, house olive oil, and macadamia nut paste dusted with sage powder – a perfect bridge between the lighter starters and heartier mains.

The mains feel like the heart of the setlist – and Moqueca is the chorus you’ll hum on the way home (it was certainly one of my favourites of the night). A soulful Brazilian classic, Rafael’s version stars dry-aged turbot, Manteiguinha beans, and sweetcorn farofa, finished with an aerated sauce and bursts of chilli heat. But before it even reaches the plate, the performance begins: Rafael himself steps out from the kitchen with the stew in hand, pausing tableside to tell the story of the dish’s roots in Bahia, the cultural and emotional weight of dendê oil, and its ties to the meals he grew up with. Then, he disappears behind the pass and returns with Moqueca reimagined as fine dining art.

Whilst the menu is a living thing, evolving with the seasons and working hand in hand with local suppliers where possible, some signature dishes remain, anchored in a fluid setlist that invites diners to lean in and trust the journey. Moqueca is one of those anchors – a dish that carries the soul of Da Terra. It doesn’t just bridge tradition and technique; it embodies the whole point: memory, mastery, and meaning in perfect harmony.

The finale of the savoury dishes came in the form of grilled monkfish with brown butter glaze, pickled mustard seeds, courgette purée, a courgette flower stuffed with broad bean, and black garlic sauce enriched with geroles, adding smoky complexity and layered nuance – a track that held attention through every note.

As the playlist shifted, a goat’s cheese flan with guava jelly and a fennel and caraway seed cracker marked the transition from savoury to sweet, a whimsical tempo change that lightened the mood.

Desserts arrived as a baba soaked in cachaca, paired with pistachio ice cream and N25 reserve caviar – indulgence balanced with refinement. A strawberry yoghurt parfait with cassava sagu cooked in balsamic, freshly grated Amazonian nutmeg at the table, offered a fragrant, nostalgic note, inviting a deep breath before tasting.

The evening closed with petits fours – sweetcorn macaroons, mango pate de fruit, passionfruit fudge, and Brazilian quindim with desiccated coconut and egg yolk curd – a carefully composed outro, each bite a sweet farewell.

Throughout, the wine pairing was a masterclass in matching fun with finesse, guided by the enthusiastic young head sommelier, Maria Boumpa. From fresh whites from France to a light Australian Pinot Noir, and even a non-alcoholic pairing of house-seasoned lemon rooibos tea, every sip added a new track to this extraordinary meal. The Maculan Torcolato 2022 dessert wine, with its sweet notes of dried fruits and spices, closed the night on a perfect final chord.

Da Terra isn’t just a restaurant – it’s a rhythm, a room, a rebellion. A place where every plate is a conversation, every corner holds a wink, and fine dining takes a deep breath and remembers how to laugh. It doesn’t ask for reverence; it earns your curiosity through flavour, feeling, and a fearless refusal to be anyone but itself.

Some places feed you. Da Terra hits a deeper note, reminding you why you fell in love with food and feeling in the first place. It’s a melody I didn’t know I was missing, now playing on loop in the back of my mind.

In the words of Rick Astley: “Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down…” – and neither will Da Terra.

W: Da Terra
E: Information
T: 020 7062 2052

Written by Emma Blunt for Luxuria Lifestyle International