Review at a glance: ★★★★★
The usual rule of menus is this: met with an indecipherable ingredient, assume it to be an obscure cheese or avant-garde mushroom. Most of us learn this the hard way with Hen of the Woods, when the promise of a hearty chicken dish from some rustic French backwater unveils itself as an oil-slicked fungus. Demoralising. But such an approach will not work at Impala, unless you are particularly au fait with northern Africa. You need to know where Djerba and Nabeul sit, what sheftalia is, how aish baladi differs from ftira. This is a restaurant to revise for.
