Dorset-born Elliot Hashtroudi worked in a number of London’s top kitchens before becoming the head chef of Camille, in Borough Market. Here, Hashtroudi showcases his regional-yet-irreverent approach to French cuisine, and an affinity for whole animal butchery.
Chefs who are born into a family of food often start young. They pontificate over the hours spent sweeping the floors of their familial dining establishments, lamenting a lost youth, and daydream of a career path in another life never realised. Hashtroudi did indeed spend a considerable amount of time at the apron strings of his mother but, unlike his family (great-grandmother a butcher, mother a cook), he initially wanted a life outside of the kitchen.
‘I grew up cooking with my mum, she was really hands on every day in the kitchen. My dad is Iranian and we used to go a lot to Charminster in Bournemouth – this sort of Middle Eastern road – as we’d get a whole leg and butcher it down. I grew up in and around restaurants, and at that time in Bournemouth a lot of restaurants were shuttering. You could see how tough it was. My family used to have a couple of restaurants and unfortunately they all shut. Financially they lost a lot of money, so while I always helped out growing up, I never really wanted to be involved myself.’
Despite an enviable insight into the world of cooking at such a young age, his experience of the struggles of running restaurants proved too much. Moving away from his family restaurant after school – both from Bournemouth, as well as the food-forward traditions of his family – Hashtroudi began a an English degree at King’s and to follow his passion for cinema.
‘Going to King’s College for university in London, I just transitioned into film: I loved watching films and I thought [a career in filmmaking] was going to be this really creative thing. Eventually I got a job as an assistant director, but I was just doing paperwork all the time and managing people.’
Filmmaking didn't satisfy – in Hashtroudi’s own words, ‘it was boring.’ His girlfriend at the time – now his fiancée – one day turned to him and asked, fatefully, ‘Why don’t you just be a chef?’ An inspired idea.
Eating pickled cockles on the beach with my grandma.
My mum. I was cooking with her all the time growing up, not doing my schoolwork.
That hunt for a more creative life helped Hashtroudi in the early years. Perhaps a little ‘creative’ with the truth, he confessed to lying on his CV and, in his own words, ‘completely blagging my way into this kitchen in Mayfair.’
Stork in Mayfair might not traditionally be considered as a training ground for young chefs, but Hashtroudi admitted that despite it being an old school kitchen – ‘there was a lot of shouting’ – he learned much from the chefs.
From Stork, a slightly more typical path for chefs learning the trade in town followed: Trullo and Padella first, then onto St John, which Hashtroudi describes as ‘the great finishing school’. At Fergus Henderson’s St John, which has seen so many greats come through its kitchen doors, Hashtroudi expanded upon his ‘whole animal’ understanding, an insight he picked up in his early years. ‘My great grandma was a butcher and she frequented Smithfield market and my dad’s dad was a leathermaker, so this “whole carcass" thing has always been there.’
Hashtroudi still holds a deep admiration for Henderson – ‘Fergus is such an inspiring guy, my love for Fergus is still strong’ – but after four years of working for him, and growing to be the sous chef of such an institution, he concedes, ‘I’d done my time there. I was happy, but I’d done my time.’
Hashtroudi went on to complete a number of trials across a range of London restaurants, including Mangal 2, Lyle’s and Kitchen Table: restaurants known for their exemplary produce and commitment to quality. After hopping around London as a stage, he hosted a handful of pop-ups at restaurant incubators like 26 Grains and the then newly expanded Carousel. It was clear big things were brewing.
A friend introduced Hashtroudi to Will Gee, the man who’d transformed P Franco into the 107 Wine Bar and Shop following the pandemic. Reminiscing on that first meeting, Hashtroudi said, ‘I was like “what I want to do is make this massive menu where people want to actually go for dinner, not just a glass of wine and a snack.”’ Gee agreed, and before long, Hashtroudi was running a kitchen famous for having just one induction hob.
‘It was so ambitious: I was getting whole carcasses delivered to this tiny room, but we made things work. We were doing steak and pork shops there, the restaurant had a tiny extraction and the room would fill with smoke. Will [Gee] would always ask to turn it down but it smelled amazing and added to this awesome ambience – everyone was loving it.’
Settling in at 107 seemed fateful and yet, at the same time, unlikely to last. Through one of Gee’s connections, Hashtroudi was introduced to the owners of Ducksoup and Little Duck and it quickly became apparent that the chef destined for bigger things. ‘We met over the road at Brindisa,’ Hashtroudi begins, ‘and sat in this “Apprentice” style boardroom. They said they wanted to open a French restaurant and straight away I said “I’m with you, but my style is French regional.” I didn’t want to tread on the toes of friends or colleagues like Henry Harris or Claude Bosi, to do something specifically Lyonnaise, I wanted to focus on Normandy, or go down to Provence, or to central. Basically, offer something all-encompassing which is offal-focussed, only using regenerative farms and British produce.
The owners were on board, but gave a tight deadline: ‘They said “Yes, but you start in two months.”’
It might be a controversial one but I love tripe. You get that slightly farmyardy smell, I just love it.
Opening a restaurant in two months is a tall order. Recalling his initial thoughts on seeing the space Hashtroudi noted, ‘My first reaction was “Fuck, there’s no walk in and it’s a really small kitchen!” But owners Claire Lattin and Tom Hill had this amazing vision to create a small bistro akin to something you’d find on the borders of Paris. They began dressing the room and totally transformed it. Camille became this shared vision of of a space to come for a long lunch, sharing [looking at the large table we’re sat at] this big long table, like an extension of my home. I want people to feel like they're at home and having fun. For me, that’s a good restaurant experience.’
Camille has gone from strength to strength. In the first three months of opening, a flood of positive reviews from The Times, the London Standard, The Guardian and the Financial Times poured in, and shortly afterwards the National Restaurant Awards rated Camille in the top 100 in the UK. ‘I thought opening this restaurant would be more stressful,’ reflects Hashtroudi, ‘I mean I’ve got a few grey hairs but it’s going well.’
While the restaurant continues to thrive, there’s a quiet philosophy Hashtroudi is trying to instill. ‘When I first opened this restaurant I was adamant to have a 50/50 gender split, and to have a team of different ethnicities and different backgrounds. Being Iranian myself, it was important to me and now we have a team member who is Kurdish, one who is Jamaican, a few Brits. It’s nice to have people from all walks of life, because everyone’s mind works differently.’
The diversity in the kitchen goes beyond gender balance and ethnicity. There’s also a philosophy of raising standards that comes from hiring from the best restaurants, staff who bring with them best practices and ideas from places like Mountain, Little Duck the Picklery, St John, Bistro Freddie and Planque. ‘We’ve just got this amazing mix and everyone has all these little intricacies they’ve picked up from these great restaurants.’
Alluding to the fact that some of his past kitchens didn't have the best work culture, he’s keen that Camille becomes fertile ground for positivity. ‘I’ve worked in kitchens where people are berated, but here people come in and they're listened to. We have fun and that’s when we get the best out of our team. People aren’t scared to make a mistake and, sometimes, I honestly can’t believe those kinds of kitchens still exist.’
When the extraction is turned off at the end of the night, it’s just so relaxing.
When it comes to the future of the chef, Hashtroudi is both ebullient about the joys of British produce and intentional about his ambitions. ‘I’m currently formulating a book focussing on British farming, regenerative farming, British produce, with a few recipes thrown in there and "Camille Two" is somewhat in the works.’
He continues: ‘[The] next passion project I hope will be more of a British regional restaurant with an emphasis on solely British produce, that acts as a kind of history lesson on British and Irish food. Think the kind of dishes your Grandma used to make and maybe you forgot about; scouse from Liverpool, Dublin coddle, Lancashire hotpot, Manchester tart and Tottenham cake. It’ll be a rediscovery of all of these slightly lost recipes.’
Camille feels like a success story on the cusp of an even bigger and brighter future, helmed as it is by Hashtroudi and his philosophy of kitchen culture, regional food and the wider hospitality industry. This young leader seems settled yet hungry, poised and ready for more.