When you hear SLoW Lagos, you imagine a place where time pauses, your senses awaken, and everything unfolds with a certain deliberate elegance. What I didn’t expect was noise levels that rivaled a secondary school night prep class after exams. Seriously, the chatter wasn’t the soft, delightful ASMR-type that whispers, “Welcome to fine dining.” No. This was the cacophony of 30 classmates playing Jackpot and trying to settle their debts before heading home for the term.
Then there were the yelling tables. Two of them. Competing. One table went, “Oya loud am!” and the other said, “Challenge accepted!” I honestly thought a referee would blow a whistle at some point. What baffled me more was the staff’s nonchalance—like this was a live entertainment feature we were all meant to enjoy. It made me wonder if this was the norm or if I had just come on “Shouting Saturdays.” If I wanted vibes and noise, I would go to Shrine.
Now, onto the food. The slow wood oven-roasted chicken, fries, and beef lasagne? Not bad—commendable, even. But the Peruvian rice? Listen, if that’s what’s in store for me in Peru, I’m fasting. It tasted like asaro (yam porridge) met lime at a poorly attended food fair. The mashed potatoes? I can’t judge; I’ve always had a personal beef with potatoes. Let’s just say my dislike remains intact.
And about affordability—well, there’s a Yoruba adage that translates “if you can attach a price tag to something, it’s affordable to somebody.” But I think SLoW’s menu is more expensive than most restaurants in its class. Yes, the ambience was amazing and the parking was a dream for Lagos standards, but my experience wasn’t fine dining; it was just meh dining.
If you’re planning a visit, lower your expectations. Way down. If this is the top of the fine dining ladder, I might just cling to Chicken Republic—at least they deliver what they promise without a side of chaos. 2.5 out of 5 stars, and most of those stars are for the parking and the decor. The noise moved it from demure to de-mu-reh.
