Table talk

Michael Deacon at Lahpet in east London

LOOKING FOR A quick way to lose weight? Simple. Just read the first half of this column. After that, you won’t feel like eating for days.

That’s because I’m going to tell you all about… my guts.

My guts – and indeed your guts – are home to trillions of bacteria, and although individually they’re microscopic, together they weigh a remarkable two pounds. Think about that. Two whole pounds. If it helps you to picture it, that’s about the same weight as a large ferret. A large ferret, writhing around in your entrails, smacking its greedy lips, rubbing its filthy paws, and then noisily feasting on the mushed-up remains of your takeaway.

That ferret’s worth of bacteria is, of course, essential to your digestive system. But not only that. It also influences your weight, your skin, your sleep – and even your mood. Studies suggest that the more ‘good’ bacteria you have squelching away in the fetid black cauldron of your guts, the slimmer and happier you’ll be. Too many ‘bad’ bacteria can lead to weight gain, restless nights and anxiety.

So how do you get more of the good bacteria and fewer of the bad? The trendy way is to eat plenty of fermented food. In particular, sauerkraut (fermented cabbage), kimchi (also fermented cabbage, but with added garlic, ginger and fish sauce), kefir (a yogurty drink that tastes a bit like sour milk), and kombucha (a cold fermented tea).

On your behalf, dear reader, I have

been selflessly experimenting with all these for a few weeks now. Glass of kefir with breakfast every morning, a heap of sauerkraut with lunch or dinner most days, the odd little bottle of kombucha here and there. It all tastes quite acidic and fizzy, but for the sake of my bacterial revamp I’m ploughing on.

So far, I must admit, I haven’t noticed any improvement in mood. Possibly I’m beyond cure. I am, after all, a political journalist. Telling me to cheer up is like telling a bollard to do ballet. Then again, I do feel vaguely lighter, and I’m convinced that my skin is starting to look a bit less jaded. Normally it has all the carefree sparkle of an insomniac tortoise. But now it looks… almost human. The other difference is that I seem to be burping a lot. Perhaps it’s just the sound of the bad bacteria, fleeing in terror.

All of this is an extremely roundabout way of explaining why I wanted to visit this week’s restaurant. It’s a Burmese place in east London called Lahpet (pronounced lah-pay). The name is taken from a traditional Burmese delicacy. Fermented tea leaves.

Fermented! Well, I just had to try some of those. And indeed I did. But we’ll get to that in a moment. First, the starter: a big platter of vegetarian fritters. There were four flavours: sweetcorn, bottle gourd, shan tofu, and mandalay (kidney bean and ginger). My favourites were the tofu. They didn’t look like much – limp and weedy and orange, like underfed fish fingers – but they tasted unexpectedly delicious: so soft and airy. I liked the mandalay version, too: imagine a kind of beany flapjack. The sweetcorn ones were a bit nothingy: dull strips of lumpy batter. Not a lot going on with the bottle gourd, either. Plenty of crunch, not much flavour. (Sorry, my bacteria are very picky.)

Next, though, was the dish I was excited about: the Lahpet tea-leaf salad. That’s right: a salad, made with tea leaves. Not just tea leaves, obviously – it also contained sesame seeds, tomato, broad beans and red cabbage. It was terrific. So many textures. Crunchy, soft, nutty, savoury, zingy. Every mouthful

It was terrific. So many textures. My tongue hardly knew whether it was coming or going

was different. My tongue hardly knew whether it was coming or going. And the fermented tea leaves added a wonderful bonus tang. Normally I’m suspicious of people who order salad on a night out – it’s the culinary equivalent of virtue signalling – but at Lahpet, perhaps uniquely, salad is the most interesting dish you can go for. And it was certainly a lot tastier than the other fermented foods I’ve been eating.

If you prefer a slightly more con- ventional main, there’s the hake masala, an elegant curry served with gorgeous rosti. Alternatively, try the coconut noodles with chicken. A big, slurping wet bowl of carbs and sauce, colourful and filling. One dish that’s liable to divide opinion, though, is the balachaung: a spicy shrimp relish. It’s monstrously strong, blazingly hot, and looks like a mound of fisherman’s bait. Stick some of that on your hook and it wouldn’t just catch the fish, it would fry it.

I liked Lahpet. The one disappointment was pudding. When I went, the menu listed just one: banana and coconut cake with chocolate and caramelised peanut. It was fine, but somehow I felt as if I was being guilt-tripped. I mean, only one pudding. What message is that supposed to send? ‘Puddings are beneath us. Since the greedier among you obviously can’t help yourselves, however, we’ll permit you to have ONE. But that’s IT.’

Then again, sugar does cause a surge in the bad bacteria. I suppose they were only thinking of my intestines.

Left Vegetarian fritters. Right Coconut noodles with chicken