Honey & Co gets a new home in London

After opening Honey & Co in 2012 and quickly picking up a legion of fans for their take on Middle Eastern home cooking, the restaurant long ago outgrew out its humble (read: inexpensive) setting. "We love the site, we love Warren Street. But the place itself – it's a flat, not a restaurant," says Srulovich. "We didn't have the electrical capacity to run the dishwasher and the aircon at the same time as the oven. We didn't have the water capacity. There's not enough room. You know, it's not actually a viable restaurant."

But for the past three years, their heads and their hearts couldn't agree on whether or not to move from a place that launched them onto the London scene and became synonymous with their intimate, homespun charm. To add to matters, their mini-empire – incorporating sister restaurant Honey & Smoke and deli Honey & Spice – were all located within a four-minute walk, making the convenience of the location hard to replicate.

By the first lockdown, they still hadn't come to a decision. However, matters would soon be taken out of their hands, with the landlord declining to extend their lease and instead putting the property on the market. "In a way it was a big relief for us in a very difficult situation," says Srulovich. "It was…" Packer, who often finishes her husband's answers, interjects: "An answer. It was someone making a very difficult decision for us."

Replicating the bijou charm of the original Honey & Co wouldn't be easy. "It was all about being small and intimate and personal, so the new site had to be something like that," says Packer. "We couldn't just walk into a massive, empty, fully designed restaurant."

The answer came up purely by chance, with Srulovich cycling past a vacant site on London's Lamb's Conduit Street. "It's an amazing street," says Packer. "It feels very us because it's semi-pedestrian and there's still a lot of independents and a nice old-London feel to it. We went to view it and it was amazing. And suddenly we could see the move happening."

At the time of writing, the original Honey & Co has done its last service, but the couple have yet to hand back the keys. When that moment comes, will they be sad to say goodbye or excited for the new opportunity?

"It depends who you ask. I'll be very emotional when we lock the doors for the last time," says Srulovich. Then he gives a mischievous smile, pre-empting Packer's pragmatic response – a look she clocks. "No! I'll be very sad to leave. We had so much fun there. But I don't hoard or get emotional over stuff and I look at the restaurant in the same kind of way – onwards and upwards."

A fresh start in Bloomsbury

As emotional as it may (or may not) be, the couple are clearly excited by the opportunities the new site will bring, especially their expensive new kitchen. "The old Honey & Co was so rudimentary, so we really wanted to have every-thing we've ever dreamed of," says Srulovich. "We're over-compensating," adds Packer.

It has, however, made an already pricey move even pricier. "We based our calculations on the build at Honey & Smoke, which was five years ago, but everything has at least doubled in price," says Packer. "Then Omicron happened in December and it was very scary and the reality hit of what we were doing. But what can we do? We're not just going to fold and say: everything we've done in the past 10 years can just go in the bin. So we throw the dice and we hope for good things."

When complete, the new Honey & Co will double the old numbers – from 25 covers to 55. Diners will be greeted by a restaurant that is new but familiar. Coming with the couple are the old tables and chairs, the wall tiles and the whole team, however, they will need to find extra manpower, with both kitchen and front-of-house teams expected to double.

A swish new kitchen and extra chefs will mean they can – finally, after 10 years – expand Honey & Co's offering. The old kitchen meant almost everything had to be made in advance, but now they'll be able to serve made-to-order mains, as well as harking back to some of their very early offerings. "We had to stop doing some of the very labour-intensive stuff as we got busier and crazier, like a lot of the small stuffed things or little pastries," says Packer.

A long way from Ottolenghi

Ten years ago, when Honey & Co first opened its doors, the couple were an unknown quantity. They'd both been working for fellow Israeli Yotam Ottolenghi for more than five years and realised they'd come to a juncture in their careers. "We had good jobs and we were running kitchens and companies and thinking about the next step for us personally," says Srulovich. "Either we had to go and work for a bigger company like Four Seasons or go much smaller and do something on our own."

Along came the Warren Street site, which worked within their limited budget, and they signed on the dotted line. In terms of a concept, they didn't really have one, says Srulovich. "We didn't have a mission statement. We wanted it to be cosy, we wanted the food to be real. We thought we'd start off cooking Middle Eastern food, but thinking that if nobody likes it we can do delicious lasagna or flip burgers. We weren't really hung up on an idea."

All they knew was that they wanted to put clear water between them and Ottolenghi. "It was really important for us to do our own thing and not do a deli with big salads. I think we have a lot of similarities and, of course, we learned so much, but we didn't want to be a copy and paste job. We felt it wasn't honouring us and it wasn't honouring them."

Instead, the couple leant into the Israeli home cooking of their childhoods. "In those early days it was literally just us in the kitchen," says Packer. "So it had to be something like a mother would cook for a family, and then we'd ask: what catches with people?"

The answer to that question was: all of it. Why do they think their food struck such a chord with the dining public? "I think after the financial crash in 2008, everyone was looking to move away from Michelin-type food with rich butter and big flavours to something that was a bit more casual and enjoyable," says Packer. "This sort of food veers away from pretence. It uses so many herbs and vegetables and the grains and pulses just feel quite natural and easy to eat."

As demand sky-rocketed the couple expanded their team and soon they were faced with a dual problem: a lack of space to make all the pastries and cakes for which they were becoming famous, and a lack of career progression for their staff. So when a site became available a four-minute walk away, they took the plunge and opened sister restaurant Honey & Smoke in 2017. Then they found they needed an office, so they took the shop across the road from Honey & Co to use the basement as an office. "Then we said: what are we going to do with the ground floor? That was a whole different adventure. And not that we have favourites, but the deli is now our favourite," says Srulovich. "It was the only reason we managed to survive the pandemic," adds Packer.

Global community on the menu

The couple's pan-Middle Eastern home cooking now stretches across the three sites, with the Israeli cuisine of their childhoods playing a big part – a cuisine that is now disappearing from Israeli dinner tables. "We're probably the last generation who grew up on these ethnic foods," says Srulovich. "Israel is a country of diasporas. You had communities coming from all over the world to Israel and they brought with them their local cooking traditions. But Israeli people don't cook like this any more – they don't have the time for it."

"Now, in Israel, this food is something you would go to a deli to buy," continues Packer. "No one has time to stand in a kitchen rolling pastry. And as this older generation dies off, fewer and fewer people know how to do it and, because it's so labour-intensive, it becomes expensive food to buy."

The couple's four cookbooks – Honey & Co, Honey & Co: The Baking Book, Honey & Co: At Home and Chasing Smoke – document many of these dishes. A love letter to the cooking of the Middle East, the first one happened by chance: the couple needed to capture recipes that were only ever in their heads, so that their chefs could replicate them. Now, the books have proved hugely popular and added another string on the couple's bow. "I can't imagine not having them in my life. Our work on them, the interaction with them, is something that's so enriching and important to us," says Srulovich, who does much of the writing.

As well as the three sites and the cookbooks, the couple also write a column for the FT Weekend and run a culinary podcast, Honey & Co: The Food Talks. Despite such busy lives, would they ever consider expanding their mini-empire, once the dust settles from Honey & Co's relaunch?

"Can we keep the question open?" laughs Srulovich. "Never say never, we get restless very quickly. We said Chasing Smoke would be our last cookbook but I think there will be more."

Packer cocks her head and interjects: "I'm not so sure. There are lots of cookbooks out there. We'll see about that one. But there might be something else up our sleeves."

The chef couple

The couple met in Israel, working together in an Italian kitchen. Was it love at first sight over the pass? "No! It was a slow burn," says Srulovich. "We are different personalities. It wasn't an obvious match."

As a fledgling couple, they decided to travel Europe – starting in London, where UK-born Packer had already done a stint in Chris Galvin's Orrery. But the complexities of life soon got in the way of their wanderlust – they had to spend all of their money on a deposit for a flat, and dreams of travelling Europe were put on ice. "London suits us very, very well. We felt at home instantly and didn't feel the need to go anywhere."

As a rare thing in the industry – a husband-and-wife chef team – do they take feedback well from each other? "We're both thick-skinned," says Srulovich. "We both seek out constructive criticism."

"Absolutely," continues Packer. "Everything we do, it wouldn't work without the other's perspective. It's like having another set of eyes that is brutally honest. And we are brutally honest. We don't do passive-aggressive, we do aggressive-aggressive."

How do they divide labour in the restaurants? "Srulovich doesn't really do pastry, that's my baby," says Packer. "I don't do any front of house or customer-facing stuff. Srulovich does that and deals with landlords, the lawyers, making sure everyone gets paid every month. The rest, we split custody."

What skills do they admire most in each other? "Packer is an amazing chef. I don't think I've met a better chef," says Srulovich.

"Sammi Tamini [Yotam Ottolenghi's business partner] is a better chef!" retorts Packer.

"He's a better cook, I'm not sure he's a better chef." There's a pause. "Now you can say something nice about me," says Srulovich, with his mischievous smile.

"Don't be like that! You can be such an evil person!" protests Packer. "His writing is beautiful. The way he can convey everything we've done and the stories he tells, it's a gift."