IF PARADISE WERE A RESTAURANT, what would it look like? Possibly not a flyblown street corner in Soho opposite a pants shop. Perhaps the name is a knowing nod to the varied heavens in which Rupert Street used to specialise, or perhaps a learned allusion to Chekhov’s description of his journey around Asia in 1892, of which he recorded that he had found hell in Sakhalin and paradise in Ceylon?
Maybe the kitchen is just very confident, as well it might be, since Paradise Soho has been
