Peckham has a talent for reinventing itself every few months. One week it’s a new rooftop bar with sunset Negronis, the next it’s an indie bakery selling miso cookies until 1pm, and the week after that, some new pocket-sized restaurant quietly opens its doors only to become the neighbourhood’s latest obsession. And that is exactly how I found myself stepping under a candy-striped awning on Rye Lane: the unmistakable entrance to Lai Rai, Peckham’s newest Vietnamese canteen and easily one of its most exciting.
From the moment I arrived, I knew this wasn’t going to be a gentle, meditative lunch. Lai Rai doesn’t whisper. It gleams, flashes, vibrates. It’s a little wild in the best way. A small, neon-lit portal into a Vietnamese street-food fever dream, the kind that makes you feel alive, hungry, curious, and deeply ready for whatever is about to hit the table.
First Impressions: Chaotic, Cool, and Completely Charming
The shopfront is deceptively simple until the light hits the awning. It’s playful, almost mischievous, as if announcing: You’re not here for a quiet time. Inside, the restaurant reveals itself with a jolt of personality , red neon glowing from corners, stainless-steel counters catching reflections, tables arranged in joyful disarray, and the kind of design that rides beautifully between Saigon street culture and hyper-modern London energy.
It’s tiny downstairs: just the way a canteen should be, with a mix of high stools, small tables, and low seating that encourages constant movement. Upstairs is a touch calmer, though “calm” at Lai Rai is always relative. The ambience buzzes. It’s the sound of cocktails being shaken, plates clattering, people talking too loudly, laughing too freely, the telltale signs that a place is working exactly as intended.
Lai Rai doesn’t feel designed for Instagram, yet every visual detail begs to be captured. It’s all instinct, flavour, and attitude.
The Drinks: Vietnamese Mischief in a Glass
Before I could even take in the details, someone placed a cocktail menu in front of me. It’s compact, curated, and deeply fun. I started with a mango-picante concoction, a Vietnamese riff on a spicy marg that immediately became one of my new favourite drinks in Peckham.
The cocktail arrived glowing sunset-orange, muddled with fresh mango, slices of red chilli swirling inside like neon ribbons, and just enough heat to wake the senses without overpowering them. It was fresh, fiery, and almost tropical, the kind of drink that brings you fully into your body before the food even arrives.
And let me tell you: the food arrives. Quickly, proudly, unapologetically.
Slow-Braised Pork Belly: A Small Plate With Big Personality
The first plate was the slow-braised pork belly: a glossy, sticky bowl of bite-sized pieces that could honestly pass for sweets if not for the unmistakable aroma of caramelised fat. Each nugget was sweet, savoury, crunchy at the edges, and soft in the centre. A perfect little contradiction in texture and flavour. You know a dish is working when your table goes silent for a few seconds. This one did just that.
And while it reads indulgent, it doesn’t overwhelm. Lai Rai understands balance. Just when you think something might be too sweet or too rich, the next dish resets your palate in the most satisfying way.
The Papaya Jellyfish Salad: Chaos as Art
If the pork belly is comfort food, the papaya jellyfish salad is art, chaotic, colourful, refreshing, and utterly alive. A mix of juicy pineapple, fresh herbs, peanuts, tomatoes that were practically collapsing into themselves, and strips of jellyfish that added a subtle bounce. It was a textural sonata, bright and punchy, glowing the colour of a perfect midsummer sunset.
It managed to be sweet, salty, spicy, and cooling all at once, the kind of dish that leaves you feeling awakened rather than weighed down. I could have easily eaten a full serving of it on my own, and I probably should have.
Beef Tartare With Shiso: A Dish With Swagger
Next came the beef tartare, and if you’re imagining something dainty or French in spirit, erase that immediately. This was a towering, abundant bowl of hand-cut beef, spiked generously with cucumber for crunch and freshness, topped with crushed crackers and peanuts that gave the dish a playful, unexpected texture.
Instead of toast points, it came with shiso leaves, a stroke of genius. Scooping the tartare onto each leaf felt almost ceremonial, each bite a chilled, fragrant, herbaceous experience. It wasn’t classic tartare, but something bolder and more generous. Less raw delicacy and more… meat salad with swagger. But honestly? I preferred it that way.
Mussels in Coconut Lemongrass Broth: A Bowl to Fall For
If there was a dish that made me quietly put my fork down and whisper “oh my god”, it was the mussels. Served in a steaming coconut and lemongrass broth that perfumed the entire table, they arrived plump, perfectly cooked, and swimming in a fragrant liquid that was impossible to ignore.
Most people would instinctively pair this with rice, but the waitress suggested we order the bánh mì-style baguette pieces instead. Best decision of the night. Dunking bread into that broth was pure joy: the kind of food moment where you forget conversation and focus entirely on taste. The bread collapsed slightly in the liquid before holding itself together just enough to deliver a flavour-soaked bite. It was textural poetry.
Crispy Chicken Leg: Twice-Fried, Deeply Irresistible
At Lai Rai, even the “big plates” arrive looking like they belong to the small-plate family — but don’t be fooled by the name. The crispy chicken leg was a sizeable, golden creation, fried twice to achieve a satisfying shatter when cut into. Resting on a green herb dressing that tasted bright and aromatic, it was a dish with full confidence. Comforting yet contemporary. Familiar yet unmistakably Lai Rai.
And though we loved it, the mussels still won the evening: a testament to the broth’s hypnotic pull.
Dessert: A Playful, Peculiar Finish
Dessert is not Lai Rai’s quiet moment. It’s a last burst of playful experimentation. We tried two options. The fish sauce and vanilla caramel ice cream tasted like a rebellious cousin of salted caramel: deeper, funkier, strangely addictive. Meanwhile, the kumquat cucumber sorbet felt like a frozen mojito someone made in a dream where all ingredients were reversed. Bright, clean, almost electric.
A Place With Heart, Humour and Heat
By the time we finished eating, the space had filled with Peckham’s coolest crowd: a mix of creatives, couples, friends, and low-key fashion kids who somehow always look editorial even when holding noodles. The staff moved through the room with humour and ease, familiar with regulars already, guiding newcomers through the menu with genuine enthusiasm.
And this is what I loved most about Lai Rai: beneath the neon, the heat, the chaos, the intensity, the attitude, there is heart. Warmth. A sense of neighbourhood. You feel it in the way dishes are presented, in the way the servers laugh with guests, in the way the menu balances boldness with tradition.
Lai Rai is not trying to recreate Saigon. It’s creating its own interpretation: vibrant, London-born, and deliciously unpretentious.
Why Lai Rai Belongs on Your List
Peckham already has more exciting eateries than most London postcodes combined, but Lai Rai has carved out its place effortlessly. It’s fun without trying too hard, bold without being gimmicky, and deeply delicious without any sense of self-importance.
This is the kind of spot you visit when you want to be energised: when you want food that shakes you awake, cocktails that surprise you, flavours that unfurl across your palate with confidence and joy.
It’s for people who want dinner to feel like a memory in the making: messy, lively, flavour-packed, and thrilling.
And if you, like me, hate ordering timidly, know this: five or six small plates between two people makes a perfect meal. You’ll eat exceptionally well without ever needing to commit to one large main. But honestly? Everything is worth trying.
Lai Rai is exactly what Peckham needed: a pulsing, neon-lit Vietnamese canteen bursting with flavour, charm, and attitude. It’s the sort of place you stumble into unexpectedly and leave telling three friends about before you’ve even made it home.
Come for the mango picante cocktail, stay for the pork belly, fall in love with the mussels, and return because the energy is irresistible.
In a neighbourhood that never stops reinventing itself, Lai Rai has planted its flag with confidence: a place that is, without question, worth visiting very, very soon.
