Who comes up with all this fiction just for a restaurant? This is the persuasive language Oliver’s people have generated for his latest project:

“Ours is a union of ideas, traditions, and of people.”

“Where wood-fired flatbreads meet great British flavours.”

Lookintomyeyeslookintomyeyes.

What’s with the wonky name – why not just call it Union or Union Jack. Is this meant to be ironic? I don’t get it. The ambiguity with the plural form (or misplaced punctuation) is the restaurant equivalent of the 2012 Olympics logo.

In spite of the spin, this really is just a pizzeria. It’s billed as some kind of ground breaking bastardisation of the humble Italian pie, by the hand of Jamie’s very Bri’ish style and nicknamed as Flatbreads. As if one could reinvent something simply by calling it something else. I do like the ‘Gary Baldy’ biscuit, however. I’d like to think these concepts were the result of a complicated brain storming session by a think tank of consultants locked in a meeting room and eating nothing but pizza to precipitate ideas.

Back in the real world, this union is a partnership between Jamie Oliver and Pizza Maestro Chris Bianco. This Central St Giles location being the pilot for a upcoming franchise, which (presumably) pending the success of this branch, will spread throughout London and the rest of the country in the next couple of years.

Bad naming aside, I think the rest of this restaurant however is brilliantly conceived. The decor is spot-on. Few restaurants come in pink, this one is so colourfully retro, it feels like a fifities diner which has been lifted out from Archie comics. I especially like the cinema billboard style overhead menus above the open plan kitchen. Speaking of which, you can sit by the bar and watch the chefs stuff the wood-fire ovens with bubbling pizza dough. Picture this : solo dining, malted milkshake, by the bar, reading 1Q84 Part III. And then Betty Draper walks in wearing a neat black and blue pokka dot, body hugging, knee high dress with a big blue bow as a belt. She decides to locks eyes with you, as she undoes her elbow length white gloves. (Huh?)

It’s clear that Jamie’s people have astutely noted the current trend of un-ceremony and retro flair. This place is so back to the future, so infectiously a happy place, that you can’t help but smile when you come in. Service was so terribly friendly and forward that I just wanted to give my waitress a big hug every time she brought me some food. She was blonde, was very nice to me without crossing waiter-customer lines and she may have fooled me into believing it was.. love.

By-Catch Fish Fingers & Tartare Sauce, £5 with Roobarb & Custard, £5.50.

The Captain would’ve been proud of these fish fingers, flaky, crumbly, can’t say they were best but they were nostalgic with gooey batter coating the undersides of the crust.

The real eye-whopper was the roobarb and custard – great drink! I can hardly believe it contains alcohol, but apparently it is made with Chase’s Rhubarb Liqueur. That’s a distillery in Hereford which makes vodka from potatoes which they grow themselves. An interesting story, they sold their first bottles in 2008. For this liqueur, they laced their vodka with rhubarb from the area. The rest of the drink was finished like a spritzer with Union Jack’s in-house apple and cinnamon drink. It’s like an apple strudle flavoured cream soda! Addictive.

Flatbread, Oxtail & brisket, slow braised in Worcestershire sauce, Sparkenhoe Red Leicester, watercress & fresh horseradish £12

Ah, here we go, the flatbread. Well, well, isn’t she a sight for sore eyes. The Betty Draper of pizzas, look at those beautiful burnt spots and the perfect oval shapeliness, the tussled watercress with flaming red stems. Is your blood racing yet? The flatbread was still sizzling when it came. Freshly grated horseradish produced stinging eye-watering fumes and breathing in all the flavours nearly knocked me out. The dough is somewhere between the juicy Franco Manco dough and the powdery Pizza East semolina base, I liked it fine. Generous flosses of tender oxtail and brisket with full bodied winter stew flavour was extremely pleasing. I have to say, the sharpness of the melted red leicester did give the impression that this was not just a pizza, but that it had beenlocalised as an ‘English’ pizza. I gobbled it up very quickly, and I really wanted to have another one.

Retro Arctic Roll, £4 and Home made Earl Grey Tea Ice Cream, £1.50 per scoop.

Oh man, pure nostalgia. This was a treat for me when I was growing up. I think my mum bought the Bird Eyes ones which came with this cream flavoured ice cream centre and thin swirls of jam. This version is just as frozen, but has additional swirls of chocolate ice cream. The blackberry jam it came smothered in, with was very good, but the frozen pudding was no where close to replicating my favourite memories.

The home-made earl grey tea and biscuit ice cream, on the other hand, was bloody fantastic. It’s frozen cream tea and biscuits! Served in a frosted copper ice cream cup! Also retro! The best £1.50 I’ve spent all year, this is the dessert of the year for me.

But here’s an idea, an alternate version of the artic roll with the excellent earl grey tea ice cream. I recommend they call it “Kang’s flamin’ tea flavour arctic roll”.

I paid exactly £30, plus an espresso. Service was at my discretion so I put in an extra £2.

Ok I admit. The think tank wins. The British theme is a charmer, I’m totally into the Union thing now. The flatbreads are of excellent quality, and the British toppings do work. Oxtail, horseradish work just as well as egg and potatoes on pizza. I think that stronger English hard cheeses when melted produce some game changing flavours, as compared with relatively mild mozzarella. I am intrigued with the potential of the other choices. The Old spot with pork shoulder, quince and stilton sounds like it could be immense. So too the seafood option of cornish sardines with fennel.

His other partnership, Barbecoa was shambles, but this one is going to be a winning franchise. It’s very likeable and upbeat, I predict Union Jacks invading the high street, and eventually superseding Pizza Express.

The Gist of It

Union Jacks
The Flatbread formerly known as Pizza. £25pp
4 Central St. Giles Piazza
LONDON
WC2H 8AB
Tel : 0203 597 7888
Tube: Tottenham Court Road

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Banana skin. I was suggested to try the ‘Ocre Rouge’, a Pinot Noir from Dions (as opposed to Burgundy) and I had come to the conclusion that this was a quirky little devil of a wine. The finish and its tannin structure was akin to banana skin, a first and a rather interesting peculiarity. The same could be said of the terribly cramped environs of the new Soho opening which has captivated Twitter’s appetite. Not only are they the latest restaurant to operate a no reservation service, they have gone the extra mile to install a record player on premises, inviting returning patrons to share their vinyl collection with everybody in the room. Ducksoup is either a genuinely hip place to dine or at the very least a good pretender. It is in keeping with the presumption that Londoners are still very much in love with the idea of less is more when eating out. Think Brawn, Spuntino and Rochelle Canteen throw in a Kitchenaid, then splashed across Fernandez & Wells. Et voilà.

The brains behind this genius are ex-Hix, chef Julian Biggs ( I think he is the beardy one) , Clare Lattin and Rory McCoy, collectively have managed to make the genre of uber-cool and understated, easily egalitarian yet decidedly British restaurant, feel refreshed once again. I really like the name, obviously it is not named after soup, but it gives the entirely random but accidentally on purpose impression, yes? (Yes Kang, keep up the bullshit). Might it have been a homage to a Marx Brothers film, I wonder.

Like many of today’s savvy restauranteurs, the key to conquering market share is online presence. Ducksoup are well equipped of course, already making all the right connections on twitter, (very usefully) posting their daily changing menu on their tumblr. That saves me the trouble of having to snap a photo of their menu. People are tweeting about them, forums are intrigued by the idea of this restaurant, half the battle with restaurants – in my opinion – is appealing to the masses. Once you get it in the prospective diners’ mind that your restaurant is ‘the place to be’ , you are half way there to enticing free wheelin’ hungry gluttons to your restaurant. Whoever Ducksoup have paid to brand their restaurant, I think they have done a bang up job with the subtle campaign.

So lets rewind to my first visit, a late 3pm lunch (high tea?) on the 14th October 2011, to some of you, it may be significant, because that’s also the day we queued up for the iPhone 4S. Yes, heckle as you do, what can I say? I’m a victim of the times, I queued up and paid my dues to the Cupertino empire, and then promptly trotted off to Soho for a late lunch to fondle my new gizmo. Since then, I’ve discovered what anaddictive app Instagram is. Take it from me that the camera on the new iPhone is so good, it alone is worth forking out £500 to replace any ageing point and shoots.

Tomato bread, olive oil, £3.50.

Snap. snap. I was expecting baked foccacia with bits of dried tomato, but instead, this was more like a stew, or perhaps a panzanella made with fresh instead of stale bread. The keyword here is fresh : This bread salad was really wholesome, juicy stuff. I don’t know what tomatoes they used, but I could tell you now, that they were plump.

Lamb cutlets, lemon, salt, £14.00.

Bony. Really bony, is this all the food £14 buys these days? I could pardon the low value for money because these were some of the best lamb cutlets I’d had in a long time. Again, I don’t know where the sheep were from, but they were fragrant, juicy, interestingly a little gamebird like, well seasoned and well fried.

Creme Caramel, £5.00.

What? A fiver for baked milk and eggs? Somebody’s having a laugh. Overpriced and not that well made, could do with more caramel sauce.

My first visit was intriguing enough, that I felt compelled to go back to try it again. I enjoyed the cosy atmosphere well enough, and whoever served me that day, she made me fall dangerously in love… with the restaurant. After meal one, it was pretty obvious this place was not another Russell Norman copycat, because it was rather expensive. I paid £35 for three plates of food plus a glass of white wine. I did admire the sheer quality of produce, while cooking was minimal, I felt it was the work of deft hands.

And so, I went back a week later. As you can peer into the ktichen, and if I am not mistaken, I believe I spotted an (ex?) Zucca chef in there. Can someone confirm? A she.

Chopped raw bavette, toasts, £7.

Fucking great tartare. The meat was beaten to a mince, which meant slithery, soft and smooth going down. Again, I thought ‘wow what great produce’ managing to taste visceral and lively, who knew a bashed bavette could be so tender? Most of all however, it was expertly well seasoned, I’m supposing garlic, salt, onion and capers (and obvious the egg yolk) , that if they were to turn it into a burger, it would turn out to be a pretty sterling patty. Fancy that. Bavette Burger, with Brioche and Ovinsardo. And ducksoup chips. They could sell that for £14.

Fritto Misto, £14.

A langoustine, artichokes, sliced orange, seabass and two slices of scallop, all fried. At first I thought “bloody hell is this it?” (Yes, I talk to myself a lot). The equivalent makele samak at Yalla Yalla gets you a mountain of seafood at half the price, but then I cut into the seabass and all memories of shitty seafood fried to a crisp were banished. The fish…amazing. The langoustine …fresh , but it were the queenies which took my breath away. I cut them down the middle and found a reassuring translucent centre, clap, clap, I applaud a kitchen that understands the importance of never overcooking. The scallops were some of the juiciest mollusks I’d ever had. My mum would have loved it. In fact, the restaurant had so much confidence in its produce that the other mains were simply raw queenies and raw langoustines.

And so we are back to the Pinot from Dions. I was certain of it now, it was definitely the taste of banana skin. This time round I avoided the pudding, but still forked out £30 for the meal. I did not have the Fucking Hell during either visit.

I am overwhelmed by the quality of produce, the seasonal menu may not read well, but I think it is a mark of sure-footed focus and even in its beginning days, Ducksoup is already a rather refined product. Because the space is really just a bar attached to an overachieving kitchen, the ambiance can become quite a bit chaotic. For instance, I was solo dining at the far edge of the bar which was also used by staff to consolidate orders and take card payments, I couldn’t hang my coat, so it stayed on my lap through the meal and at times, it felt like eating on a moving bus. Then again, if you are willing to eat standing up at Jose, this will not be an issue. I think we may be witnessing the derivation of a certain genre of restaurant. What shall we call it ? The soho diner perhaps. It feels cool, it is obvious that people come because it makes them feel exactly that. It’s not a bad thing of course, there is nothing wrong with feeling cool when eating out. In some ways, it reminds me of when Polpo first opened.

So my verdict is that Ducksoup is a solid 3.5 titanium stars out of 5. I think cooking is precise and disciplined but honestly, the recipes are banal, so don’t come here expecting fancy antics. Ducksoup is a no bullshit establishment. I’d like to think it is serving food that its chefs would cook for themselves at the end of service, which is the source of its appeal. The produce is of exceptional quality, if they can keep up the standard of sourcing, I think they will win many fans.

But I feel that they could have eased off the pricing during year one. £5 for small plates and £12 for large ones would have made more sense. Perhaps the ingredients are already quite dear, I don’t know, but I can’t keep up £30 two plate lunches when I know I would only spend a third less at a Russell Norman. I recommend avoiding the creme caramel until they pump more effort into something that is actually worth five pounds.

So, Soho is becoming a great place to eat isn’t it? There are now so many unique options for nourishment nestled amongst our beloved tourist traps. Superb noodles? Koya. A slice of America? Spuntino. How about some trendy beans from down under? Flat White. Tart up for some vintage fayne dining ? Gauthier. Simple everyman burger? Darth Byron. The best roastduck in Europe? Four Seasons (debatable of course). And introducing fried oranges and your personal LPs : Ducksoup.

The Deets.

Ducksoup
Egalitarian. Italian, I suppose. £35pp.
41 Dean Street W1D 4PY
Tel: 0207 287 4599
Tube: Piccadilly Circus

Stir the soup: TimeOut , A lot on her plate , Richard Godwin , The Skinny Bib

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I was with a table of four and a half, and I was glad to see the energy and the smell of roasted coffee beans still filled the atmosphere inside this restaurant. The menu was still as brief as the A4 it was printed on. A smatter of antipasti dishes, fish, cheese, Italian ham; a couple of pasta dishes, a meat ragu and one with mushrooms; grilled fish fillets and meat chops. The memory of my first couple of meals at Zucca last year, lingered like a good summer fling, fuelling my appetite as I sat down to order. However, as this meal progressed, it was obvious that the restaurant had become masters of their trade – the meal better than what I remembered.

It began with their signature bread basket, olive oil, but new (to me this year) was a kind of potato omelette.

On the house while you wait, of course, and something which would give nearby Jose a run for its money. I forget what the dish was actually called, but it was so delicious we asked for another plate. How they managed to sell at at the cost of air was beyond me.

Salt cod with tomatoes, £4.25

A stroke of rustic genius, this was such a beautiful dish, it felt as if it had been stewing for at least the entire day, in a pot that had travelled all the way from someone’s kitchen in Castelvecchio.

Mozzarella with Sicilian aubergines, £4.25

Yes, I was skeptical too, when I saw this menu, but the waitress assured me that aubergines flown in from Sicily were simply to die for. Chopped garlic, peppers, oil … gosh it was the gooey texture of the browned aubergine that really had me cooing for more. The soft spongey and cold cheese, the meaty burst of flavour in the aubergines and the rather overpowering garlic – it was superb. Who knew aubergines and mozzarella was ever such a good fit. As good a fit as is white chocolate with banana, scallops with truffle, miso and black cod.

Pappardelle with veal ragu, £9 (large)

The pasta is made in house, and is expectedly al dente. I wasn’t too hot for the ragu, if I was honest, but on the other side of the table were thinner ribbon pasta made with a potent mushroom sauce. That…that dish was awesome.

Veal chop with spinach and lemon, £14.75.

But of course, we had to have the infamous Zucca veal chop. The pièce de résistance, the pride of Bermondsey, the chef d’oeuvre, the chop that launched a thousand bellies. One can only speculate that this was a porterhouse cut, with a tenderer and smaller side equivalent to the fillet, and a larger more muscular and flavoursome sirloin bit. Simply charred and juicy, mellow in flavour and texture, like a middle white pretending to be a longhorn, it was sheer magic.

Amaretto, coffee and vanilla, £5.

There were a couple more dishes on the table, like the sea bass carpaccio that I forgot to take pictures of. With a bottle of Gavi di Gavi, we paid £114 for four and a half people. Fabulous value for money, incredibly enjoyable and if they keep going like this, Sam Harris’s honest little labour of love will surpass River Cafe. There’s just something very exciting about the cooking here, they’ve made it so easy to fall in love with it. Zucca remains, in my opinion, one of London’s best restaurants.

The Gist of It

Zucca Official Site
£30pp Italian.
184 Bermondsey Street SE1 3TQ
Tel: (020) 7378 6809
Tube: London Bridge

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One can only admire Russell Norman, Richard Beatty and their merry team for breathing revolutionary life to the London dining circuit over the past two years. It kind of reminds me of the Star Wars prequels, how as each chapter unfolded, came the buzz, the anticipation and the new effects. I thought Revenge was the strongest of them all. The last in the trilogy, the most unique, and the one which wasn’t held back. Come on folks, you gotta admit, Spuntino was special. Russell and co created a landmark with that one. Who knew that truffled egg toasts, ground beef sliders, grits and a brew, would still taste so good the third time round.

And so the Russell is back yet again with the fourth (and last) in the Polpo line (until the next revelation comes to his brilliant restauranteur mind) , and its like sitting down to see Episode Four, after seeing Revenge. You’re fooling yourself into thinking you don’t know the score, when in fact, you already do. All the hype is in place, as we’ve seen before, twitter a flutter bearing the good news of the successful soft launch, which will be – inevitably – followed by the barrage of words, photographs, videos and interviews over the coming weeks.

Of course, I had to saveur the moment for myself, so I decided to obey the egalitarian policy, and walked in sans booking on their second official day of service, for a lazy Friday lunch.

This new chapter hints at the storied granduer of its predecessors. It inherits several motifs, but is distilled in a more pragmatic manner, a more refined way, a reboot of the el classico order. The best bits of Spuntino, Polpo and Polpetto is apparent in its design – the curtained glass front, the aged walls, the tiles, the creaky wooden floorboards, 50s American rock, hotpants, shaggy tees and rolled up sleeves, and the bar stools. But this one probably wins for it is blessed a skylight, that allows the heavens smile upon its guts every morning, and if you position yourself just in the right spot under the skylight, you might see the tip of the nearby church on Maiden Lane.

The menu printed on the brown paper table cloths, was familiar territory. Pizzette, cicheti, salads, an expanded meatballs and other nibbly Italian bits were present. Da Polpo takes an even more pronounced less is more approach to the food, nothing seemed too challenging, osso bucco, squid ink and lentils were absent.

Bottle of Moretti £4.00 and Arancini, £2.50

I taste sage (I think), I see dollops of mozzarella (I think) and sticky viscous rice. Nice. Wash down with birra.

Whole mozzarella, broad beans, £7.50.

Mmmm, classic. Fresh, buttery broad beans, buttery cheese, buttery olive oil, simple yes, but also something that Obika would envy.

Fennel, curly endives, almonds, £4.

The salads are good, across all four restaurants really.

Grilled sirloin steak, £8.50.

No eggs with this, you can taste hot iron on the surface of the meat, it’s grilled, with no frills.

Piadina Meatball Smash, £8.

The smash is literal, in that it is pressed in between piadina, an Italian flatbread, with cheese and sauce. I chose the classic pork & beef balls, though the full suite includes lamb & mint; spicy pork & fennel; chickpea, spinach & ricotta. The meatballs were nice, comforting and as you’d expect from meatballs, in their powers to heal the soul from a week long battering at the office.

Affogato, £2.5 and Tiramisu pot, £4.50.

To finish, the missus and I were greedy and went for a affogato (each) plus a pot of sinful tiramisu. We ended up fighting over the last scrapings of the pudding from the tumbler.

Cost for two was £42, including service, a glass of wine and a bottle of beer. Classic cooking going on here, this is not a place for cutting edge ideas; rather there are comforting recipes and fresh salads, to accomodate the all day dining mood, those who wish to hang around, to have some booze, to drink some coffee, to take time out for some reading and to laugh the night away.

Like you, I’ve been to all four of Norman’s restaurants. Of the four, my favourite is Spuntino, da Polpo is a close second, and I think they should bring the osso bucco to all four restaurants. All four are accessible, affordable, come with funky and pleasing service but most of all, they are all imbued with the unmistakable and magical hazy amber-lit ambiance. Has Russell Norman’s grand idea of bacaros now reached the rarified space known to few as perfection, or might there be an epilogue which is yet to be revealed? Only time will tell, until then, the octopus worship continues.

The Gist of It

da Polpo
All day Italian small bites, with a skylight. £20pp.
6 Maiden Lane
WC2E 7NA
Tel : 020 7836 8448
Tube : Covent Garden

More photos on my flickr.

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Kilburn is another story altogether however.

I’d already written about the lovely Salusbury pub before, and if you follow my twitter feed, you’ll note the weekly oyster popping at the Sunday farmers market, but I have always been itching to put something together regarding the two Italian cafes in Queen’s Park, which are both highly recommended, if you happen to be in the area.

Giorgio’s

The first candidate is situated on the corner of Salusbury Road. It used to be the grocery bit of Salusbury, and about this time last year, it was rechristened as Giorgios, and redecorated into a lazy corner cafe which served food throughout the day. The pizzas, bolognese arancinis and cannolis are all pretty good, though on this trip, we had arrived for brunch.

Swirly hot chocolate to get the day going..

… and a vegetarian fry up. Hmm, wasn’t quite so sure about those vegetarian sausages.

However, these bad boys – French toast with streaky bacon and maple syrup – were the stuff.

Finally this was a little concoction of mine. Ham, egg and melting cheese ‘breakfast sandwich’. I call it Le GBK. A truly awesome sandwich, trust me.

The salt beef sandwiches, ham baguettes and chicken escalopes are also quite formidable as well.

The Gist of It

Giorgio’s
Italian cafe, £15pp
56 Salusbury Road, NW6 6NN
Tube: Queen’s Park

Alimentari

Alimentari is probably more deli than cafe, away from the activity in Salusbury road, and on a rather less glamorous street on Kilburn Lane, but it is worth sitting down for coffee or breakfast for that matter.

Feast your eyes on this Italian breakfast for two, for £19!

Served on a large platter, on it’s own four legs, as our table can’t hold it, and it also comes with ham croissants and two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice as well. Yeah of course, one might say that this is nothing but good foraging, what with their range of Italian cheeses and cured meats, that one could easily whip this up in the comfort of one’s home. But nothing beats sitting in a relaxing cafe, with all of Sunday’s papers in one hand, and coffee in the other. Speaking of coffee, their special is a mocha with a double dose of melted chocolate.

And they sell pretty amazing white chocolate cannolis, and paninis can be loaded with whatever choice of cheese and meat they have in stock behind their cold counter.

The Gist of It

Alimentari
Italian cafe, £15pp
Tel :
Tube: Queen’s Park

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When I think about spending big on meals, where multiple stars are involved, I think French, I think Japanese, I think miniscular gastronomy, water-bathed, raw and beetroot. Rarely does the thought of an expensive Italian meal ever cross my mind anymore these days. I put this down to the recent drive by like-minded restauranteurs in launching the lean and mean, baby River Cafes (and derivatives). As you are well aware, we’ve been loving the revolution in London-Italian dining, feeling the gastropubistro-fatigue. Come on admit it, you can’t get enough of a novel-thick grilled veal chop, dripping in wet bloody juice. Especially if it costs under £20.

Yes, the Zuccas, Tinellos, Dock Kitchens, Bocca Di Lupos, Polpos, Tinellos and Trullos are good for Londoners. We have competed with one another in overbooking them to their fullest capacity, and we especially like the much slimmer bottomline, and delicious yet elegant recipes, built around fresh produce, which is the whole crust of Italian cuisine. At last, good Italian food has become democratic.

Having said that, there is still a legacy of the old-world, grand but homely Italian restaurants, designated by (quite strictly) by region and the Michelin man, and the pre-crash prices. Give it a go, call L’Anima, or Locatelli or River Cafe or Murano, and then ring any of the above mentioned mid-priced super Italian cucinas. You are likely to secure a table at the premium ones, before you nail one at the cheaper alternatives.

I’m making sweeping assumptions obviously, but I think its safe to say that the tide has turned. The alternatives are now the superstars. Vivi a lungo River Cafe-nites!

Enter Semplice. Opened to pretty strong reviews in 2007, won it’s first star two years after, and it has a very loyal fan following, yet it is one of these sleeper restaurants which people seem to not like boasting about. It is pretty expensive after all, although like all top end restaurants, they do have a £20-something lunch menu. At the top of the table is Marco Torri whose CV boasts stints at Locatelli, The Halkin, Gualtiero Marchesi, Lucas Carton, and at El Bulli too.

Aside from the Milan dishes, I would boldly guess that the menu is largely inspired by cuisines of Northern Italy. Semplice (for Simple) are also quite proudly insistant on the provenance of their ingredients, going as far as to list an exact % (60 to be exact) of how much of is flown in from Italy.

Baby monkfish “Milanese” served with gem lettuce “panzanella’ style and soft quail eggs, £10.75

Very amazingly awesome. The very embodiment of distilled mastery resulting in something that looked deceptively simple, but which deep down inside of me, after the second bite or so, I concluded that it was anything but. Firstly though, I did a swift google image search for ‘baby monkfish’ because… I’ve not seen baby monkfish up close before. I can only speculate that these are a species of monkfish which do not grow to as large as the normal kind, which can be pretty large. Huge, flat, with a real kisser of a mug. Gunards or Monkfish? My local fishmonger sells the monkfish pre-filleted, so I’ve never really seen a monkfish up close either. Thank goodness for the internet then.

The entire dish was textured like baby food, the salt on the soft quail egg yolk, really so creamy and so simple, and the panzanella, a kind of soaked stale bed salad, vinegary, citrusy and interesting when combined with the truly wonderful baby monkfish nuggets. It was probably the best fish and mash I’d ever had. Loved this dish.

Traditional Milanese risotto with saffron and bone marrow, £14.50

This dish has polarised opinion across reviews spanning the restaurant’s lifetime. Some say this is man’s greatest gift to his neighbour; others write it off as simply bad risotto, for not being creamy enough, for being too al dente, leading to speculation that the rice hadn’t yet had enough time to soak up the juices proper.

I thought it was fucking fantastic. This was definitely the stuff. The sunflower yellow was so saturated that I had to shield my eyes with my wayfarers. It smelled bloody great. Strands of red saffron visible, I like that, and an intensely cheesy creamy consistency. The rice was al dente, chewy and not mushy-creamy like congee. I don’t know, I think I prefer risotto which is ‘thinner’ than what is expected. The flavours of saffron (herby, shruby, tannic, rose-woody, flowery, – how to describe?) was pure love, and to finish off with three flavour bombs of bone marrow was sheer ecstasy.

I really enjoyed this risotto. In fact, it could well have been one (if not) the best risottos I’ve ever had, in London. The cheese, the bone marrow, the saffron, brilliant combo, and more importantly, beautifully cooked.

Roast milk-fed Piedmontese veal with shitake, courgettes, taggiasca olives and sweet potato sauce, £28.75

Here’s a dish where the proud Italian provenance was realised. Hands down the best sliced veal I’d ever had. The meat was incredibly tender – moral/ethical issues aside – , the natural fragrance of veal (like a really high quality butter) coming through, it just melted on my tongue.

But sadly, I didn’t agree with the recipe. It was tacky, old-fashioned, tired, lazy, stereotypical, uninventive, unimaginable, overpowering, heavy, too heavy, it just didn’t seem to fit in with the semplice theme. The sweet potato sauce was absolutely criminal.

Coffee tiramisu with tiramisu ice cream,

I enjoyed the meal thoroughly through this point, because I really have to hand it to the restaurant manager and his merry servers. Giovanni Baldino is a model front of house man. He and his staff put together a really modest, heart warming, and genuine round of service. One can definitely feel the love. They do take care of guests with true humility and genuine hospitality. In all my years of eating out, I’ve not so much felt so well taken care of, but I’ve never really felt quite so comforted, and genuinely grateful for service. There is simply no ego involved, no bib induced snobbery, and they really gave me the impression that they just want to show their guests a good time. Six stars out of five in this category.

And then they bring me the pudding. What’s this? A twist on the age old Italian stereotypical dessert in a restaurant which goes by Simple?! Hah. I was surprised at first, and I have to say I really enjoyed it. The bitterness of the coffee really lifted the heaviness of all that sugar and cream. It was like having frozen tiramisu and then warm tiramisu. The ice cream was ace, the coffee sauce, probably acer.

It wasn’t cheap, I paid £80.16 (including water + a glass of tipples) for the solo adventure, and it was a pricy lunch. But for once, I find myself recommending that you consider throwing your money away for one special night at Semplice, and to not be thrifty about it. Yes, while you can get fantastic ossobucco at Polpetto, excellent home-made pappardelle at Zucca, and a formidable pumpkin risotto at Trullo; I don’t however think that any of the mid-range trendy Italian restaurants quite match up in terms of sheer technical ability when it comes to the cooking. And I think that’s where the real strength of these rather old-school Italian stifferatos lie. I was blown away by the sauces at Zafferano, just the balance of flavour and texture, spectacular, and I think the same of this meal at Semplice.

Food was simply delicious, bottomline was a little much, but service was stratospherically awesome. I was completely seduced by allure of fine Italian dining once again, and for that reason, I heartily recommend Semplice.

The Gist of It

Ristorante Semplice
Italian, £75pp
10 Blenheim St W1S 1LJ
Tel: (020) 7495 1509
Tube: Bond Street

The interwebs speak: Genuiness ; Travel with Wingz ; The Critical Couple ; AA ; Matt Norman ; TimeOut

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If ever there was a restaurant synonymous with the term institution, that restaurant could well be Zafferano. Entering its sixteenth year of service, it is regarded by all of us, as one of the key purveyors of high Italian cuisine, in London. It boasts a fancy postcode, the single macaron from the Bib, as well as about a dozen or so blogposts showering praise upon it. It even has a name – Zafferano for Saffron – that echoes its maturing charm. This restaurant appears to have become impervious to the trendy competition of younger restaurants, yet to establish the sort of loyal patronage that Zafferano has the distinct honour of having. It is about as proper as it gets.

As Mr Blyde once put it, Zafferano is indeed an important restaurant not only to indulge yourself, but for a ’rounded’ education in classical Italian cuisine (in London (short of a protracted trip to Italy)) to satisfy one’s experiences in benchmarking what is supposedly the best the cuisine has to offer (in London).

This is likely one of the few restaurants to make return visits not for the sake of novelty, but to return because the food is genuinely fantastic. The main man in the hot seat, is the long time head chef Andy Needham who has been with the restaurant (at least to my knowledge) since its beginning days. Previous to his tenure at Zafferano, Andy had trained at the Savoy, Le Pre Catalan in Paris and then joined the Saffron as sous chef… yes, any essay of the restaurant’s origins would be incomplete without speaking of its first steward : The rather legendary, Giorgio Locatelli. He stayed with the restaurant from day one till 1999, drawing his first taste of the red guide during this time with Zafferano in the nineties. Eventually, he went on to set up Locanda Locatelli, and of course in the current gastronomic climate: Both restaurants are considered to be two of the three greatest Italian restaurants in London. The other belonging to Ruth Rogers.

Age definitely shows in decor, taking on a maturing musky charm, that seems to suggest that this would be your dad’s version of Polpo. The white table cloths are a drenched sepia, the yellow walls losing its sheen to match the rather featureless surroundings, small pots of plants litter the rooms, classic posh. The trumpeting jazz in the background completed the ambiance. In its graceful middle age, Zafferano has definitely become the quintessential nostalgic Italian restaurant.

Nostalgia extends to the way the menu reads, that is to say, it reads like a complete bore. It flows as you’d expect, the standard four courses, for a rather reasonable asking price of £49.50 (bar supplements and the truffles) , but dishes are written in such a reserved manner, it just seems like any other neighbouring Italian joint. “Octopus salad with potatoes” , “Buckwheat pasta with leeks, sage and cheese” , “Pan fried veal cutlet with mushrooms and potato gallette”. Maybe I am used to the newer openings which seem to have engaged more enthusiastic copywriters, but if experience has taught me anything, it is that creative prose is never a reflection on the actual quality of food. I drank a glass of Dolcetto, £7.

Antipasto: Bresaola della Valtellina con rucola e caprino

Which translates to thinly sliced cured beef with rocket and goat cheese. Large bulbs of caramalised onions gave the dish a triple dose of sweetness, the lubricating oils were pure luxury and though I thought there was abit too much rocket and too little bresaola, overall it was a fine salad. But a salad nonetheless.

Primo: Pappardelle allo zafferano con guanciale di maiale

One major criticism I have of the food (if not of Italian food in general) is that these classic dishes are apparently formless in presentation. There is very little to look at, hand in hand with a similar assessment of the reserved nature in which it has been described as well. But food is about taste and smell, and in that regard, this dish of saffron pappardelle with pigs cheek was simply tremendous. The entire dish had taken on a regal oilyness about it, the dripping deep-fried crostinis added so much flavour, there was a perfumed sweetness, like vanilla or perhaps it was the saffron, accompanied by a satisfying, meaty savouriness. The small dollops of pigs cheeks, flossy, tender and gorgeous. Finally, the pasta was obviously al dente trice over, while it may be invisible in a photograph, I felt it was an expertly well made dish of pasta, with a sauce that made for tingling tastebuds. This dish demonstrated the kitchen’s deserved reputation as a Michelin restaurant. The beauty was how simple the dish looked and yet it tasted anything but simple.

Secondo: Merluzzo arrosto con zucca, cime di rapa e bottarga

Roast Icelandic cod with pumpkin , “cime di rapa” and “bottarga.

We took issue with the breathing time between courses, on average it was about 45 minutes. Which meant we sat from 6.45 till 10 at night. Not that I didn’t enjoy Mark’s company, but the long pauses between dishes had my appetite yoyo-ing throughout the meal. “We give good gap between courses, prego.” was the Maître d’ answer to our query. Gap yes, but it was not good.

Luckily the fish was amazing. It was cooked just a little under, perfect in my book, flaky, ever so slightly translucent in the centre, juicy and steaming. It sizzled with every bite. Too much chickpeas, but otherwise, it was the invisible gravy it came with, that made the dish jump in the mouth. Awesome, understated cooking that can really only be fully appreciated first hand.

Dolce: Semifreddo di torrone con mango fresco e frutto della passione

To finish, a simple semifreddo, with fresh slices mango and passion fruit, adequate in cleansing the palate, in the face of an absent palate cleanser.

We paid £129.39, or just under £65 per person. Beautiful cooking, lousy visuals, but beautiful cooking. Did I mention the fabulous cooking? It’s all about the vintage-like food at Zafferano, which in my opinion makes it an excellent restaurant. When we entered the restaurant, we were baffled why something that seemed outdated maintained its Michelin star for all these years, but after the meal, I think Mark and I were in agreement that it was simply because the cooking was brilliant. And I cannot stop praising the food, and food alone. So in the end, I got the education I wanted from the Saffron. In my humble opinion, it’s better than Mazzei’s L’Anima, which in my view, is the new kid on the block, vying to usurp the authority of the old guard. I do not think Mazzei is cooking at this level yet, so it will be a while before we see Zafferano falling out of favour, and until another challenger steps up, Zafferano remains one of the great Italian institutions in the Smoke.

In light of the rather reasonable pricing, especially in comparison with the likes of other leading Italian restaurants, I can only recommend that you put Zafferano on your list. I certainly enjoyed my meal, and it is one of few which I would gladly revisit, just to indulge myself. I already have my nose on the veal chop.

The Gist.

Zafferano
Italian £65pp
15 Lowndes Street SW1X 9EY
Tel 020 7235 5800
Tube: Knightsbridge

Prego: Intoxicating Prose , FoodSnob , Time Out London , Hardens , The Skinny Bib , The Epicurean , The Standard

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Ain’t it just a beauty? I couldn’t help but show you photographs of this lovely little Italian on the corner of Fifth Avenue, toward Kensal Green. Since my move to North London, I have been actively seeking out goodies in the vicinity. And I think I might have found a really nice gem to add to the ‘collection’. Digging around online, I find that her highness, Fay had proclaimed Ida is “the ideal neighbour”, and in equal measure, Marina O’Loughlin, the other high priestess of critiqueing heaped praise too.

The restaurant is heart-achingly beautiful, in an honest, homely and candle-lit sort of way. It exudes a gracefully aged atmosphere, even though it has only been opened for a few years. The walls are lined with colourful artwork seemingly curated through the years, all framed in a variety of shape, size and alignment.

At the heart of this quintessential neighbourhood operation are the husband & wife team of Avi & Simonetta Reichenbach, whom are an engineer and a novelist respectively, hailing from the Marche and Tuscany. Intriguingly, they were never in the restaurant trade, though I imagine the love for food courses through their veins. Hence the opening of this family business, I surmise.

The selling point then, is the home-style cooking, of passed down recipes, something a little more down to earth than the glitz of the usual London Italian restaurant. Ida lays claim to be one of the few restaurants in London – and even Italy – which makes pasta in-house by the dying art of hand-rolling, as opposed to machined ways. They evidence this through their twitter stream as well as weekend pasta making workshops. In the end, all the hard work, of course, is said to lead to infinitely lovely pastas.

We drank a 500ml carafe of their house red from Settesoli, Sicily at rock bottom prices, £8.95.

Food is served through the usual four courses, antipasti, primi and secondi, followed by the pud; the better half chose from the weeknight, £18 set menu (for 3 out of 4) while I chose from the a la carte.

Antipasti

From the set: Salad with cooked ham, french beans, peppers, rocket, tomato, onion and cheese.

The greens were freshly chopped, not much more I can add to that really.

Primi

From the set: Spaghetti with anchovies and olives

So this would be the first brush with their in-house rolled pasta, well, it is definitely al dente, the ragu was mild but came with a potent punch probably from the anchovies. The pasta released a lovely oxygenated chew. Yes, as we had expected really, Avi’s cooking is heartwarming, comforting and made us smile.

A la carte: Ravioli di zucca e prosciutto con salsa parigina £10.50

I had to order this dish, what with the tremendous description attached:

Hand-made ravioli stuffed with pumkin and prosciutto with a tomato and bechamel sauce. (Chef’ Giacomo’s personal recipe created aged 17 when an old man called Peppino delivered a horse drawn cart full of pumpkins to the restaurant where he was working. The ravioli were originally made for the kitchen staff, but proved so popular, they went onto the menu, where they remain to this day!)

Oh gosh, yes, this kitchen staff recipe, was exceedingly good. The pasta was meltingly soft, it hid a champagne coloured filling, that tasted as if it had been whipped for hours, it carried a kind of regality, approaching a sort of rubbery meat sauce and simply beautiful. The bechamel sauce poured over it – and a strategically placed french bean to simulate a zucca – oozed a wonderful balance of the zest, the tang and the buttery. When you visit, you must try this dish, it’s love.

Secondi

From the set: Squid and peas, with tomato sauce.

I apologise for the rather brief titles for the set menu items – I forgot to take a snap of the set menu you see. Anyway, the sauce – bloody brilliant, it reeks of fish, but it’s strength is masked by the sweet peas, and I think there are far too many peas, and not nearly enough squid in the bowl. Grilled bread (also made in-house) is not for show of course, as it was the perfect compliment to the heavy sauce, soaking up all those wonderful flavours in the dough… oh, more bread please. Another simple dish, well made.

A la carte: Filetto di Maialino al Marsala con fagiolini £13.00

And finally, my main course, Tender pork fillet with marsala wine on a bed of steamed green beans. Firstly, the dish smells fabulous. A faint whiff of vanilla, I was amazed at how easily my knife went into the floured pork, it was cooked perfectly, perfectly juicy and perfectly tender, like a knife through moist sponge cake. Flavour wise, it was an exercise of restraint and subtlety, more of the vanilla – I gather from the marsala wine – reminiscent of veal than pork – the silken texture was pure heaven. A joy to eat such a dish, and if it appeared on a Trullo or Zucca or a Tinello menu, I would believe it entirely.

We visited on a Tuesday night, and by 8pm it was absolutely brimming with activity. For a short moment, I glimpsed a corner Italian restaurant in Middle Europe, and not Kensal Green, clientele seemed white collar, and having just knocked off work to enjoy a comforting meal. Simonetta roamed the tiled floor by herself, which took on a faded, tatty but loved beige colour. She was overwhelmed by the number of patrons in the restaurant. With food being served at the standard it was – and bearing in mind of the mystique of a neighbourhood gem such as this – I was not surprised by the good business. We paid £56.75 plus service, expectedly great value. There were many dishes which intrigued, and descriptions of which suggested some kind of history, either personal or the region which it originates. Food on the whole was well cooked, and for me, it was a brilliant alternative to an elusive table at Trullo or Zucca. I can’t wait to return – and I’ve used the word many times throughout – in the end, it was a loving meal.

The Gist.

Ida
Italiano, £25pp
167 Fifth Avenue London W10 4DT
Tel: 020 8969 9853
Underground : Queen’s Park

The Grand Dames: Fay & Marina , both for the Standard.

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By now you’ll have tried and failed to book a table at Trullo, the latest budget conscious, laid-back, Italian inspired restaurant to open and to become over-subscribed, in London. Owned by Jordan Frieda, once the front of house at River Café, and chef Tim Siadatan, formerly of Fifteen, plus stints at St John and Moro. What don’t you know about this restaurant which hasn’t already been reviewed to death by the Capital’s most voracious appetites, eh?

At first, it was the Italian summer ‘refurbishment’ break that prevented me from visiting in August, and when it re-opened, Trullo had been turning tables like mad, I just couldn’t get in. In the short few months since its debut, it sure has gained a cult-like status, I gather amongst North Londoners, and those who are willing to make the journey. It took a cancellation to secure a table for lunch on the first Saturday of October. I’d read all the positive reviews, so I was naturally looking forward to the meal.

It is difficult to speak about the menu, as bits of it changes on a frequent basis, courses by fours, antipasti (£4) , primi (£6), grills/oven (£18) and dolce (£4). The concept is to deliver fresh, well-cooked and comforting food, at tremendously sensible prices, creating the illusion of value, when one might think this sort of food could easily go for more money.

The comparisons with Zucca are all too apparent, and upon entering, it would appear that both restaurants were separated at birth. For all intents, the menus are interchangeable, except the Zucca bread basket is more varied, and Trullo’s décor is more amenable.

The speakers squeak pretty old-school stuff, something smoky and jazzy, something that sounds like Nat King Cole. White and greys are wrapped around mature woods, in keeping with protocol these days to make furniture look run down and vintage, it oozed a technicolour vibe. Perhaps most striking was our waiter (the receipt says Tim) with his James Dean-esque, gelled brown hair and – my notes say – green eyes , which add to Trullo’s fifties mystique. The square tables, small, barely fit two dishes for two, let alone tuck elbows in.

I began with pumpkin risotto, £5.50.

Which was all too brilliant. The sweetness of the pumpkin pulsating through the peppery and hearty dish. The rice was al dente as far as I was concerned, it wasn’t too creamy nor was it too grainy, though it erred to being just a tad chewy. Seasoned well, it only threatened to leave my mouth dry. I wash down the rest with a glass of the house white (£3), a Cataratto Chardonnay, ahh…

Wild Porcini Soup, £4.50.

Over at the alternate universe, the better half quietly enjoyed a mushroom soup, roughly but finely chopped that created a slippery, slimy, textured experience. Of course, the soup was beautiful, wonderfully seasoned, but she would have appreciated it more if there were larger pieces of chopped mushrooms. Quite literally, the sensation of chewing out umami juices was lost, with the loss of texture.

Chargrilled quail with liver crostini, £6.00.

Rich and velvety, full of sweet and saltiness, the liver pate was simply superb, with a tinge of bitterness, and matched well with the grilled quail. It tasted almost like baby chicken, just juicy and springly, I could have done with more bread however.

Marinated Jerusalem artichoke, endive and cobnut salad, £6.

This was exceptional, charming and a showcase of the flair the Trullo kitchen had employed to capture hearts and tongues. A little bit of bitterness from the crunchy endive and cobnuts, plus a whole lot of rooty, nutty flavour with the artichokes. I dub thee, Salad of the Year.

Pappardelle with beef shin ragu, £6.50.

Well, well, well, Chez Tim. Beautiful work again, just look at the homely style, the shimmering ragu strewn across the golden streaks of pasta. All made in house, I gather, and soggily al dente. As per the rest of the dishes, it was well seasoned, it was creamy, but not overly rich and decidedly hearty.

Veal chop T-bone, Rosevale potatoes, radicchio, shallot, caper and anchovy. £20.00

That’s a mouthful to describe the potato salad on the side of the priciest dish on the menu. Yeah I thought that too – Not as good as Zucca, and much more expensive in comparison (£20 against £14.50). Not that I don’t appreciate a well-tossed salad, I do, and this was zesty and seasoned and oily and was cooked with beautiful potatoes. But it was so good and so vibrant that it killed the meat, clashing with the subtle butter and vanilla flavours of veal, rather than complement them – it was like Chez Tim was telling me to ignore the meat. The T-bone was grilled naked, dry and drizzle-free and looked like the shell of a crab, that you sucked on, but ultimately discarded when done. In fact, this seemed like a classic dish, cooked by someone who hated meat. Speaking of, the veal was a little overdone. I washed it all down with a glass of house red (£3.20), the Borgo…

Green and Black figs with honey, £4.50.

Fresh, and just beautiful, ain’t it? If there’s one thing I like about Trullo’s work, are that dishes are turned out with flair, however simple they may be. It is like the style chefs turn on, when they go on Saturday Morning Kitchen, that becomes drowned with the militant nature of the restaurant trade, but here the love for the good life is served unhindered.

Pannacotta with caramel, £4.50.

As I usually do, I asked the waiter – who was professional and charming all throughout service – for a recommendation, and apart from cheese (which I didn’t fancy for lunch) he couldn’t stop praising the pannacotta…

…Oh yeah, that’s the stuff. It’s more a cross between crème caramel and crème brulee than a straight up pannacotta, as you submerge your spoon into the pool of egg & sugar, you feel it stick and tug, gooey and thick and only a little wobbly. Rich, indulgent and accurately balance in terms of the sweetness – a theme I found with much of the cooking. A melting pot of custard and caramel, completely and utterly indulgent, and one of the best renditions of this pudding I’ve had yet, albeit much, much richer and more ‘French’ than Italian. A stunning finish nonetheless.

Here is a glimspe of the hard working waiter… James Dean hair, right?

In the end, we paid £70.20, which is exclusive of service and inclusive of a single espresso and an Americano – expectedly, it’s great value.

Let me just say that while I think Trullo is fab, we didn’t leave the restaurant feeling over the moon. I get the slick concept, the deft execution, the slender bottomline and the River Cafe emulation, but as hype usually has it, expectation has run a little high for what is suppose to be a good valued, quality Italian restaurant, that could’ve been a very good secret. Not a patch on L’Anima or even the bona-fide River Cafe, however, it is nice to know there is an alternative to Zucca. Or I should say, a clone.

(Mr Ramdsen, I guess I’ll have to agree with you on Trullo… but I maintain my reservations on Polpo/Polpetto.)

Framing it in the sense of a review, I can understand why Trullo is so agreeable. It retains all the crucial elements that make restaurants shine. The true benefactors are probably the Islingtoners (erm..), like AAiL, now blessed with this lovely neighbourhood haunt that turns out such fabulous food, who will be keeping the seats warm on a frequent basis, I’m sure. It does not pretend to be anything other than a restaurant that produces good food, judging by the bouyant mood during this visit, I’d say Tim & Jordan have succeeded at what they had set out to create.

The Gist of It

Trullo
Italian, £40pp
300-302 St Paul’s Road
Tel: 020 7226 2733
Overground: Highbury & Islington

Truly, madly, deeply : Food Fight , Dos Hermanos , Cheese and Biscuits ,Twelvepointfivepercent , An American in London , Jay Rayner , Metro , Guy Dimond

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You would have most likely read about Russell Norman’s new opening on other blogs, or probably were amongst those who went to Polpetto’s first week of launch. Well if you are a Polpo fan, then you’ll be familiar with much of the Venetian inspired bacaro concept, now transported to the upper floor of a pub, The French House, in Soho. Except the space is much smaller, purportedly only sits 28, as opposed to Polpo’s 65.

Polpo receives much endearing love from the zeitgeist, it has a rather ubiquitous twitter presence, not least since Rusell Norman – the owner – is a master at his craft. Previously the Operations director at Le Caprice, he launched the Oyster bar at the resplendent institution that is J Sheekey.

Truth be told, I feel ambivalent writing posts about places as hot as these, ardent loyalists will mock any negativity, and a good review is just jumping on the bandwagon. Oh well.

So the winning formula is untinkered, dishes are tiny and to share, brick walls and wooden furnishings, paper menus as table tops, and the edgy and effortlessly waiting staff – a feature at Polpo – as well as the begrudged no reservations policy.

I must confess, the visit to Polpetto was completely accidental. I was en route to meet Mark for a maiden meal at the egalitarian institution that is Anchor & Hope in Southwark, but as we arrived, the place was absolutely heaving, on a Tuesday night. Disheartened by the queue, we set off to Central London, and wandered up the stairs at the French House. The room was packed of course….but lo and behold, there was no queue!

As our luck would have it, there was one last table available for the two fattest bastards in London, so we sat down. A sign that the initial buzz is waning perhaps? Or just Tuesday?

The menu looks similar to Polpo if shorter. Some dishes look familiar, the flank steak for instance, and others are probably new creations whipped up by the chef, Tom Oldroyd.

Man, this place is noisy.

Lentils & Burrata Salad, £5.50

So we start with a homely bowl of lentils with a lovely, milky burrata (for buttered) cheese, which seems to be creeping into Italian menus these days. It’s a beautiful cheese, I believe it is mozzarella plus cream. Gorgeous stuff, we mop up the lentils with a Pizzetta Bianca (£4.50) or a white mini-pizza as it were, but noted how the dish was a little too salty, as we finished it.

Cuttlefish in its ink, gremolata £6.50.

Swimming in very thick ink. Very intense, a little too much actually, and we thought it was just too salty. Honestly, there’s nothing special going on here. This feels like something any tired and old Italian restaurant in Soho can churn out.

Crispy soft shell crab, parmesan batter, fennel salad, £8.

Yeah, on first impressions, this seems a good dish, but in reality, it’s just fried soft shell crab, and an overly salty cream sauce. Good fennel.

Osso buco, saffron risotto, £8.

I’d imagine this is Polpetto’s signature dish, afterall it has its own glamour shot on the website. Yeah this was proper good. Herby and homely and for some strange reason, the flavours were redolent of New Zealand. Bags of it, I stuck my nose in to the golden rice, and really enjoyed the melt-your-brains softness of the veal which couldn’t help falling off the bone. What a bone hole.

Pigeon saltimbocca, £7.

I actually thought this dish was disgusting.

As the room was so dimly lit, I mistook this initially for sardines. I’m pretty sure the breasts were wrapped in ham as per the classic recipe, though I cannot really tell from the photo. Served pink, but with a juiceless centre, tepid, overly salty, it certainly didn’t jump in my mouth. In my humble opinion, I thought this was one dimensional. I did not finish the breasts off.

Baked Peaches, £5.

Oh that milky stuff, it tastes like whale spit… no I’m serious, ambergris. Waxy and a little weird. Hey ambergris is a delicacy.

…I’m wary. I think the cooking at Polpetto is unruly. The osso buco was faultless, but the rest of what we had, was not up to scratch. I think they’ve crossed the easy like Sunday morning line, the dishes approach banality. I expect more from such an appealing brand, some dishes look as if it could have come from any random cucina off Kilburn High Road. Generally speaking, everything was too salty. Just a little too off kilter.

We also ordered a bottle of the house red – Barbera Volpi 2009 – for £15 which was ok. Staff were generally chirpy, very huggable and instantly lovable. We paid £67 (including service) , a little pricier than expected, and we’d already missed the 50% discount on week one, but it was still cool.

So Polpetto, very faithful to the original. In my humblest of opinion – and feel free to disagree – Polpo and Polpetto are atmosphere first and food later. I feel that it pulls in traffic for exactly this reason. Food is mostly edible of course (even though much was yawn) , but given the choice, I wouldn’t go back. Its greatest appeal is – for me at least – also its greatest turn-off. Bumping elbows with sweaty strangers after standing in a queue for half an hour might have been fun in 2009, but not anymore. At least not for me.

Women seem to love this place, shaking the hair loose, breaking down the invisible barriers to interact with neighbouring diners, given how close tables are. On my visit, a table of five SATC types were quizzical when I pulled out my camera, and on the other side, a couple , probably mid twenties, looked like they were really enjoying the buzz of such a ‘trendy’ eatery. Cute. At one point, she dropped her knife, picked it up from the floor and continued eating with merry abandon and told us it hadn’t pass the “three seconds on the floor rule” so it was clean.

Yeah, that was fun. Next.

The Gist of It

Polpetto
Italian, £30pp
Upstairs at The French House
49 Dean Street
W1D 5BG
Tel: 020 7734 1969
Tube: Piccadilly Circus

Small bites: London Food Detective ; Guy for Time Out London ; Greedy Diva ; Gourmet Chick ; The Grumbling Gourmet ; 12.5% ; Tummy Rumble

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