A night spent discussing hopes, dreams, and macerations as trains rumble overhead is not new London behaviour. Back in the day, Fagin-ish gangs likely schemed with hot gin and a single sausage beneath TfL’s finest abodes. Fast forward and drinking small-batch booze and small bites in a railway arch is a signifier of taste. Yuki Bar does it well. Joyau is a joy. Tempo, in Bethnal Green, takes it to an altogether sexier place. At first glance, the South East Asian restaurant and wine bar is all half-melted pillar candles and glinting Beaujolais on a steel counter. Everyone looks like they have opinions on Lily Allen and a miso pasta recipe up their sleeve. Everyone is also eating Jenga blocks of prawn toast. Do the same. Order a glass of something if you’re that way inclined too. The natural wine list (it’s a joint venture with Dan’s) is serious and we were pointed towards a brilliant glass of Trenzado on first visit. For all its aesthetic style, Tempo has even more substance. A combination of seasoning, fat, herbs, and wine is what this sommelier's afterparty specialises in. There are Chinese influences in the addictive cheung fun layered with mapo butter and Sichuan peppercorns, while the vibrant lemongrass chicken leans Vietnamese. At the counter, couples lean close and scoop whipped tofu, the deep-fat fryer bubbles away, and there isn’t a screen in sight. This is a Diptyque bubble bath of an open kitchen in a room where the most platonic of dinners can look like a hushed tone date. To be clear, Tempo isn’t just for drinkers. Some of the 10-or-so dishes on the changing menu are special. The honey butter madeleines, served as a restrained threesome, are things your mouth will later dream of doing lewd things to. Look around the room and this dessert will vanish in a blink. Ending on the menu's singular sweet offering , and the desperate urge for more feels deliberate on Tempo’s part. The more it encourages that, the better.