quattro passi, mayfair - review

Should you, dear reader, happen to be a Russian oligarch, Middle Eastern oil baron or a member of an acutely irritating, internationally worshiped teenage boy band, then allow me to assist with your New Year’s Eve plans.

Quattro Passi on Dover Street in Mayfair launched in September this year. At the helm, two Michelin-starred executive chef Antonio Mellino, heralding from the original restaurant on the Amalfi Coast which boasts the glittering accolade. 

On the menu, Amalfi delicacies, from the region of Campania in Southern Italy, with ingredients flown in three times a week. And in the L-shaped dining room, hand-carved leather wall panels, French silk wallpaper, and diners who aren’t shy of a few bob.

They are offering a New Year’s Eve menu of seven courses with a glass of champagne on arrival for £222 (before service, I presume). There is the promise of a DJ below deck in the private lounge area, with the chance to dance the night away as you bid farewell to 2014 and what could have been the deposit on a new car, should you succumb to its bar loaded with fine cognacs, brandies and whiskies.

Unashamedly, this restaurant is tailored to the well-lined pockets of the affluent and uninhibited business accounts. Outside the New Year’s Eve offering and on a normal day, antipasta dishes are between £18 - £40, intermediate courses £16 - £42, mains around £28 - £50 and desserts £18 - £22. You won’t find a bottle of wine for less than £50, and a lot of them are over £100. 

As the old adage goes, “something is only worth what someone is willing to pay for it”, and it seems there are quite a lot of people willing to pay these prices.

It’s also a place for celebrities. It’s polished and dimly lit, and has a chandelier made from a thousand silk petals (celebs - they love that sort of thing). In the short time it’s been open, clients have included Lindsay Lohan having lunch, Valentino hosting his book launch dinner there with Kylie, Hugh Grant and Anne Hathaway, not to mention a host of royalty from far off lands.

I am that person that gets excited when the slip of paper that comes out of the Sainsbury’s till tells me I’ve got £0.72 off my next shop. Therefore, I can safely assume I don’t fall into Quattro Passi’s target market. But I was invited to a trial run of this New Year’s dinner, and I will write about the menu objectively, with my money-is-no-object hat on, my favourite of the imaginary hats.

Marinated carpaccio of Sicilian red prawns in a blueberry sauce

Probably best I couldn’t detect the blueberry in this. Otherwise, very well seasoned raw prawn, somehow fashioned into a square sheet on the plate, with a couple of quenelles of what I think were soured cream. Perhaps a little too prawn-y for some (as my companions mentioned), but it was good for me.

Potato veloute, poached quails egg, white truffle from Alba

A shallow bowl of an interestingly textured velouté, a little gelatinous, but with good flavour and a generous shaving of punchy funghi.

Signature risotto with Sorrento lemon zest

I very much liked the look of this - a piatto bianco - white risotto on a white plate, with strands of zest within the mass that would have been easier to spot had the lighting been brighter. It looked like it had great texture, the plate given a good shake to spread the rice. And the grains were beautifully cooked - fantastic bite. 

But the flavours did not work for me. It seemed too sweet, more like a rice pudding, with medicinal tasting lemon. It was as if it had been grated from a waxed fruit, which I’m pretty certain was not the case.

Interestingly, it was the favourite dish of some of my fellow diners. Which just goes to show how subjective food and eating it is.

Oven-baked daily catch fish fillet with potatoes mille feuille

The catch that day being sea bream, and a very nice plate it was. A well seasoned, well cooked bit of fish - although it could have had a crispier skin - with good potatoes and crisp pak choi nicely dressed with lemon. Nothing too spectacular, just solid.

Fassone beef Fillet with Barbaresco wine Jus de Viande with broccoli flan and porcini mushrooms

The meat here was spot on - succulent and pink. The flan was an interesting take on the vegetable - never before have I had my broccoli wobble. Porcini mushrooms were a good call, the jus tying it all together nicely.

Tagliolini pasta with artichoke hearts and lobster

This pasta shape was a new one to me. It’s a variety of tagliatelle - the classic noodle from the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy - and is long, paper-thin, and cylindrical in shape.

This was a very good dish, wonderfully savoury, with delicate slithers of artichoke hearts and the occasional presence of crustacean. My only gripe being there wasn’t more of it.

Soft sponge roll with chantilly, raspberry coulis and pistachios crumble

A sponge roll, how retro. Like something from the birthday parties of my childhood, it evoked the associated memories. Which are all good. Sharp coulis filled the roll, as well as there being a blobbed crescent of it, along with a small quenelle of tart sorbet. A tangy plate to end on.

Accessories

Bread was very good and made on site, stacked on a small set of portable shelves, a range of rolls, flatbreads and grissini. A little olive oil for glugging would have been good with it. Expect a wooden box of assorted petit fours to wrap up.

We were very generously treated to a wine flight to accompany the meal, each tasting swirled in burgundy glasses big enough to house a goldfish or two (even for the non-burgundy wines).

With alcohol, service and a drink or two at the bar, expect to pay around £350 pp for this New Year’s evening. But the burning question is of course, is it worth it? 

For me - who falls squarely into the ‘mere mortal’ category - no meal is worth £350, whether New Year’s Eve in Mayfair or not. But for many, these sorts of figures are lost down the back of Karelian birch, gilded brass, Kremlin-inspired sofas all the time, without being missed. 

And for those people, this would likely be a very pleasant evening indeed.

Liked lots: service was wonderful, particularly from the exuberant restaurant manager (I forget his name, sorry)

Liked less: the dining table was too high for wee me, sat against the wall on the banquettes. So much so that for the first time in my dining life, I had to sit on a cushion to eat. I'm not even that short (5'3.5 - that half makes all the difference)

Good for: laughing in the face of financial restraint

My rating: 3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to this restaurant.

frescobaldi, mayfair - review

Swing a right down an alleyway opposite Hamley’s on Regent Street, and you’ll find yourself on a quiet and short strip of road called New Burlington Place. The only people that seem to know about it are the cabbies that turn into it from adjoining Saville Row for a three-point-turn, and to drop off the well-suited elite; there’s little else there. 

Except, that is, for new Italian fine dining restaurant and wine bar, Frescobaldi. Despite an almost complete lack of passing footfall, little launch fanfare, and having only being open for two weeks, it was almost full late Saturday lunch time. 

People knew it was on this invisible road, and were coming for it specifically.

If the name rings a bell, you may have seen their restaurant on the lower ground floor of Harrods, their branded Laudemio olive oil sold at Fortnum & Mason, or come across their outposts in Florence and at Rome’s Fiumicino airport.

Their major claim to fame though, and the focus around which this new restaurant is based, is that the Frescobaldi family produce wine, and have done for a very long time indeed (more information on that in this recent Independent article). 

It’s an involvement that dates back centuries. During the renaissance, we’re told they traded bottles with Michelangelo for works of art, and they were major financiers to the kings of England, with receipts signed personally by that great wine-quaffer, Henry VIII. 

Most of their nine estates can be found in the hills around Florence and Siena, and a range of wines from the likes of Mormoreto (a single-vineyard cru of Castello di Nipozzano) to the flagship Frescobaldi cuvée (Brunello di Montalcino Castelgiocondo Riserva) take pride of place on the new restaurant’s menu.

To launch this first independent site in the UK, the Frescobaldis have partnered with Good Food Society, a new hospitality venture promoted by fellow Turk, Levent Büyükuğur (also founder of Istanbul Doors, an international restaurant group with over 40 venues).

They’ve done very well with the interiors. A great wall of glass for the frontage, striking frescos of Italian renaissance characters painted onto the tiled walls, a great central column with shelves housing Tuscan paraphernalia and bottles of wine poured by the glass - it’s a handsome space.

At Frescobaldi, you’ll find the largest menu you’ve ever seen, in size rather than content - open, it’s almost as wide as the wingspan of an albatross. The extra maneuverability the broad and comfortable chairs provide are as good for big bottoms as they are for accommodating the perusal of the massive things; best to read them turned sideways for the sake of a smashed wine glass.

In it, a confident and concise menu with less than a handful of entries under each section: antipasti, carpacci, tartare, primi piatti (pasta), to share (salads, cheese and charcuterie), secondi di pesce (fish mains), seconde di cane (meat mains), contorni (sides).

Bread was great and made on site, the soft and salty focaccia still warm from the oven, crisp Sardinian flatbread entirely void of moisture, and the basket comes with a bottle of that Laudemio olive oil to glug at your pleasure. 

There were rippled sheets of seabass carpaccio with pink peppers, soy sauce and fresh curly celery strips, that could have done with a touch of astringency (£16). The lactating Puglian burrata, with rocket pesto and ripe tomatoes, was just about the creamiest I’ve encountered (£12.50). 

I thought the marinated black Angus beef with lentils and courgettes would come as a salad with cooked slices of steak, and I expected it to be dull. It was actually like a plate of joyous lemony bresaola, with a little gathering of fantastically dressed firm green lentils and tiny cubes of courgette (£15).

The wide ribbons of pappardelle with the veal cheek ragu were gorgeous - great bite and deep yellow from yolk. The pappy but pleasing sauce, quite sweet from the meat, needed the contrasting texture it got from a flourish of small crisp rosemary croutons scattered before serving - very good (£15).

There were small and soft dimpled gnocchi with porcini mushrooms and an earthy umami sauce, although I do like my dumplings sporting the marks of a longer fry (£15). The ossobucco was a loaded plate of flaking veal, flanked by a barrier of unctuous white polenta, and with a great slug of marrow that slipped out of the bone after just a little persuasion (£23).

Tiramisu came in an unusual format, a mound of yellow sponge, coloured from extra yolk I presume, with a moat of coffee sauce and bitter toasted beans. It was cleared in the same amount of time it took me to register it had arrived (£9).

They've been smart in making more of their wines accessible to diners, by offering small and reasonably priced pre-grouped wine flights. You get a taste of three glasses (125ml each), and there are different groups of three to choose from, ranging from £16 - £68. I had the Red Flight “Sangiovese” at £21.

Two female maître d's were wearing the same sophisticated monochrome dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a cocktail bar, and service was charming and very attentive, if a little too enthusiastic at the beginning of our early lunch reservation, when we were the only occupied table.
  
Fellow diners ranged from groups of American visitors, to distinguished and impeccably dressed Italian matriarchs enjoying a girly lunch, to young couples, to a Turkish family, which may have been a Mr Büyükuğur influence.

Like I said, I don’t know how these people knew it was there. I did, because my visit was in the capacity of critiquing it for the consumer publication for British Turks & Turkophiles, T-Vine (thanks to Mr Büyükuğur’s involvement).

But know about it, people seem to. And now you do too. 

Liked lots: accessible and reasonably priced wine flights, interiors, there’s also a very becoming bar below deck to enjoy both wines and spirits in

Liked less: Frescobaldi won’t win any prizes for ‘bargain restaurant of the week’, but considering the location and setting, it’s not trying to. That in mind, with a bit of considered ordering, you can keep a reign on the bill and enjoy a very good meal

Good for: respite from the hectic shopping streets of the West End, impressing a date

4/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun

Note: I was invited as a guest to this restaurant.

tiramisu - recipe

‘I would like some coffee with this cheese’ is a sentence no one has ever said. Wine, goes without saying. Port, most certainly. Even beer and cocktails work with an appetising platter. Whilst an alcoholic presence isn’t necessarily a precursor for a beverage to compliment cheese, coffee just does not fit.

Unless of course we are talking about tiramisu (and in a similar vein, coffee flavoured cheesecake). Possibly the lone exception in the culinary world of the two brought together in a spoonful or seven of sweetened creamy glory (incidentally through my research I have discovered 'kaffeost' - a Finnish concoction in which hot coffee is poured over chunks of soft cheese - a more pungent affogato I suppose; I'd be willing to try it).

Translating to ‘pick-me-up’ from Italian and originating from Treviso near Venice, the dessert presents itself as layers of Savoiardi biscuits (also known as ladyfingers - the sponge biscuits used in trifles) soaked in cold espresso and an egg, sugar and mascarpone mixture. Often flavoured with cocoa and made suitably grown up with a splash of Marsala wine, it represents all that is great about Italian cooking; simplicity, the love of good coffee and the inclusion of cheese wherever possible.

Have a look online and you’ll come across many different recipes, a lot of which I’ve tried. They include the presence of cream, vanilla, strawberries and a whole manner of other things. The purist in me relishes the fact an Italian politician has recently asked the EU to grant the Treviso recipe invented in the 70’s protected status and rightly so; whilst I can appreciate new takes on classics, I’m old fashioned at heart and it can be too easy for traditional recipes to become diluted and lost over time. 

The Italians are fierce in the protection of their national dishes, already succeeding with the Napoletana margherita and marinara, and I respect them all the more for it.

The cheesy mix in the Treviso recipe is comprised of egg yolks, sugar and mascarpone. How much of each I suppose is up to experimentation, but in my version I’ve also added some fluffed up egg whites. It creates a greater volume meaning the cheese goes further to make more portions. Because of this, the dessert is lighter and therefore I suppose, less of a burden on any guilt you may feel consuming it. Or so I tell myself.

In terms of liquor, feel free to replace the Marsala with rum or coffee liqueur. Traipsing through my local supermarkets, Marsala only seems to be available in standard wine bottle sizes. Should you discover the same, and unless you plan on making tiramisu every week for the foreseeable future or quaffing the stuff straight, substituting with something similar you already have is fine. 

But have it made clear the unmistakable flavour from Sicilian Marsala will be absent and which I believe makes the dish. Savoiardi biscuits can be found in all supermarkets - they tend to sit alongside trifle type ingredients rather than in the biscuit aisle. Ask where the sponge fingers are if you can't locate them.

Classic Tiramisu

Makes 4 portions

Around 18 Savoiardi biscuits (ladyfingers)
200ml strong espresso, cold
2 x egg whites
1 x egg yolk
2 tbsp caster sugar
2 tbsp Marsala wine
250g mascarpone cheese
Cocoa powder
A square or two of dark chocolate (at least 70% cocoa)

In a large bowl whisk the egg yolk, egg whites and sugar until thick and pale but still runny. An electric hand whisk will achieve this quickly.

Add the cheese and Marsala and beat until fully combined and smooth with no lumps. I find the beater attachment on an electric stand mixer does this well. The mixture will still be quite runny but this will set in the fridge.

Pour the cold coffee into a shallow wide dish. Soak a biscuit in the coffee for a couple of seconds each side so it gets absorbed, but remove before it goes soft and breaks apart. Layer the bottom of four individual serving glasses with one layer of soaked biscuits.

Tip For an extra boozy kick, add a splash of wine to the coffee too before you soak the biscuits

Tip If you need to break the biscuits to fit in the glass, do so before you soak them. 

Tip Glass serving vessels are ideal as it allows you to see the layers but if you don’t have them, something ramekin sized will do just fine - I used glass tumblers.

Over these bottom layers pour 2-3 tablespoons of the cheese and egg mixture - you want to use half of your mix across all portions in this first layer. Top these with another layer of soaked biscuits, and finish with a final layer of the mixture, using it all up.

Using a sieve or tea strainer, dust cocoa powder over the tiramisu portions ensuring all of the white is covered. Finely grate the dark chocolate and sprinkle this on top to finish.

Cover each portion with clingfilm and leave to set in the fridge for at least a few hours before serving. I find they taste better the longer they are left as the flavours mingle, so I would make them the day before you wish to serve them.

An indulgent treat at any time of day, they do very well in the ‘hard to resist’ stakes.

Afiyet olsun. 

24hrs of eating in soho

For those wanting to experience a true slice of London life without the rose-tinted spectacles of well-kept tourist attractions and stately buildings obscuring the view, there are few better places to while away all hours of the day than at its pulsating core; the area mainly bound by the arterial routes of Shaftesbury Avenue, Oxford Street and Regent Street, also known as Soho.

Never was there a truer representation of the full spectrum of the walks of life that call this city home than within this approximate square mile of London. With a history steeped in entertainment and stimulation of every nature, you would be hard pressed not to find something that floats your boat with an unrivalled buoyancy.

The coarse queens of Old Compton, the vinyl votaries of Berwick, jazz junkies on Gerrard, Italian expats and strong espressos on Frith, working girls gyrating on Green Court, media creatives with sockless feet in loafers, Big Issue sellers and suited city traders swigging pints, pushers and gawkers, pimps and poets, preachers and prostitutes, titillation and tourists, clip joints and clerics, cops and robbers, Hare Krishnas and celebrities, musicians and poppers, even a Church of England primary school - you name it, Soho has it.

When it comes to entertainment in this neighbourhood, Soho caters for every penchant and predilection under the sun: theatre, cinema, striptease, brothels, kitsch cabaret, massages, drinking, book stores, narcotics, people-watching, dancing, debate, religion, stand-up comedy, live music, and galleries to name a few. Generous in its provisions to satiate so many base human desires, Soho does the more socially acceptable one exceptionally well too - food and eating it.

One could easily argue, is there ever really a need to leave? A question often posed in my four years living and studying in the surrounding areas. A pocket of London I adore and one that can understandably be quite the distraction. Here’s my personal guide of how to sustain yourself for 24hrs in this decadent district. 

Breakfast

Pick up a print that takes your fancy from Wardour News (118 - 120 Wardour Street) - one of the most impressive ranges of publications for sale in a newsagents you will ever see. From international newspapers to specific high-end editorials covering food, fashion, the gay and lesbian scene, travel and a whole lot more - if it’s in circulation, you'll find it here.

Armed with your niche glossy, head over to Nordic Bakery to start your day in the exceptional way the Scandinavians do so well.

Fika the early morning away with quality coffee, cinnamon buns, dark ryes topped with smoked salmon, herrings, and revel in the peace. Expect to share the space with some of the Soho creatives attracted by the clean lines of the interiors, and that have likely played a part in designing your reading material.

cinnamon buns at Nordic Bakery

Lunch

To keep it closer to home try out Damson & Co (21 Brewer Street). A much welcomed British deli and coffee house specialising in British cheeses, charcuterie and ceviche - possibly three of the best things to eat, ever. With cool and industrialised interiors, friendly and knowledgeable staff and exceptional sparkling red wine (who even knew there was such a thing), it’s a great option to kill an hour or two whilst consuming some quality fare.

Should the taste buds tingle for the Middle Eastern flavours of tahini and pomegranate molasses, head over to Yalla Yalla for Beirut street food. With a wide range of small plated mezzes (all served with pitta, olives and pickles) and larger mains to select from, you can either share with companions or indulge in a satisfying and solitary fill.

Another great option for a lively lunch enjoyed with friends is Barrafina where you’ll find some of the best tapas in the city. Stool perching allows visitors to embrace the true style of tapas with such traditional plates tempting diners as pan con tomate, prawn and piquillo pepper tortilla and tuna tartar. Expect a wait occupied by nibbles and drinks in the standing area while seating becomes available (they don’t take reservations) and keep your group to four or under.

octopus tapas at Barrafina

Dinner

If the evening calls for life affirming liquid goodness to help rest weary feet, you’ll be hard pressed to find a better place than either Tonkotsu or Bone Daddies, both purveyors of exceptional milky and deeply flavoursome Japanese ramen. In a similar vein, Koya will deliver on sublime udon noodles served cold with dipping sauces, or in hot broths and presented simply and with elegance.

Should the occasion befit a fine-dining splurge then Michelin starred Yauatcha is unlikely to disappoint. Serving high-end Chinese food from steamed buns and dim sum to hand-pulled noodle and rice dishes, along with delights such as jasmine tea smoked ribs and Mongolian style venison, this self-styled contemporary dim sum tea house will certainly tick all the boxes for a special occasion, but do prepare for a dented wallet.

For something a little more accessible, head over to Pizza Pilgrims where two brothers have moved from selling Napoli-inspired pizza from their three-wheeled Piaggio Ape complete with pizza oven (driven here from Italy), to bricks and mortar in the centre of Soho. Sourdough pizza bases blistered from the authentic clay gas-fired oven and rich San Marzano sauces complete the experience. Stick to the marinara or margherita classics for some of the most authentic pizza you’ll eat outside Napoli in this city.

the Pizza Pilgrims pizza oven

Late night

Pull up a pew outside the late night coffee-culture stalwart of Soho that is Bar Italia serving quality strong coffee to ardent followers from 7am to 5am every day since 1949. A haunt for Soho residents, coffee connoisseurs, creatives and ex-pat Italians alike, it’s a perfect place to banish the onset of fatigue and observe the ebb and flow of life on these streets in the small hours of the morning.

Before the dawn

For the insomniacs, vampires and those who simply refuse to call it a night, Soho’s 24hr dining venues lend a shoulder to momentarily rest tender heads while the party continues on around. When the body is beat but the brain thinks it’s breakfast time, Balans is a sure bet for decent eggs served by flirtatious waiters keen to continue the evening’s frivolities during their shift.

If the hankering is for a second dinner to soak up the sauce then the Chinese fare served at Old Town 97 (previously '1997' when I used to frequent it many a hazy evening - 19 Wardour Street ) will hit the spot like an arrow on a bullseye. Gather your comrades (including the new ones acquired during the course of the evening) and chow down on some perfect crispy Peking duck and pancakes. For mains and to re-awaken the senses, select your preference of carbohydrate and request a chilli oil so hot you could only ever entertain it inebriated.

A night in

With eyes squinting at the dawn of a new day breaking over Soho Square and energy reserves fast depleting, the realisation that the rest of the day will mostly be spent recovering on the sofa hits fast.

With foresight still functioning, make a beeline to Lina Stores once they open to gawp at a huge array of floor to ceiling Italian delicacies, charcuteries, cheese and brimming bowls of antipasti. Purchase a portion of their delicious and fresh ravioli made on the premises daily by pasta chef Gianni, and select from such tempting flavour combinations as beetroot with goats cheese, spinach with ricotta, or veal. Chuck them in boiling water, drizzle with olive oil and you can retreat back to the dark of the living room.

Squeeze in a sit-down at one of their outside tables, drink an espresso and digest the splendour that was the previous 24 hours before heading home.

pasta chef Gianni with all his handiwork at Lina Stores

Soho is one big delicious sullied multi-faceted melting-pot of an oxymoron at the heart of our capital city. Give it your unbroken attention for a full day and you will be rewarded with stories worth telling. 

For as the English author Samuel Johnson once quipped, ‘when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford’.

café murano, mayfair - review

It’s been a while since the efforts of a restaurant kitchen have greeted me - and subsequently shaken me by the shoulders - at the door. The babble of full-flowing conversation from every table, alongside the enticing aroma of seafood stock were the first things to strike the senses once over the threshold of Café Murano.

I don’t think it’s that common to smell the food a restaurant is cooking as soon as you walk in; perhaps ventilation systems are so good these days, and restaurants can be rather large. But it was a welcome I’d like to experience more often, like when entering a friend’s home with a hello of “something smells good”. It felt right and was indicative of the meal to come - unafraid to make itself known and for good reason.

Lunch-o-clock on a Tuesday and I couldn't spot a free table, despite sopping conditions from the mini-monsoon haemorrhaging over the city. People had reservations and they were keeping them; those without them (I assume) were free-wheeling it at the bar. I can think of few better places I’d want to be if it was wet out, or dry. Or snowing, or Med hot (I really like this place).

The design is both classy and chic, whilst achieving a completely at-ease environment. The crowd is sophisticated, often be-suited, but one I suspect find few things more enjoyable than good food with good wine and good company; it was breezy and buoyant and everyone seemed to be having a bloody great “lunch meeting”. 

It’s fronted by Angela Hartnett, as is the refined big-sister Michelin-starred Murano down the road. The term café is what differentiates the two, hinting towards a far more relaxed atmosphere, very accessible price points and a great option for a not-too-showy but suitably impressive second date (so my single companion reliably informed me).



The aperitivo of the day was something said with the sort of wonderfully thick and indecipherable Italian accent of a waiter you immediately put all your culinary faith in, the natural response being, “lovely - we'll take two please”. I later discovered it was called an Olandese Volante - kümmel, gin, plum and an Italian vermouth; it was burnished amber and very clever.

A trio of toy-sized truffle arancini were piping-hot and - what I initially thought - a touch underseasoned. Turns out my first bite was wrong (I can only put it down to the palate finishing its occupation with such a great cocktail); all subsequent mouthfuls were so spot on, we ordered another round (£3). Chunks of warm octopus with firm chickpeas, the soft crunch of pine nuts and baby gem were yielding and tasty, but could have benefited from a touch more depth in the sauce. Yet weirdly, again, it seemed to improve as I continued to eat it (£9.50). 

The cacciuccio (I’m so glad my dining partner ordered the thing we were neither able to translate nor pronounce) was a fish stew triumph; had the fish in it had a chest, I would have pinned a medal to it. A rich and deep broth with a touch of chilli, saffron and fennel, we spooned the sauce straight to our lips with great zeal whilst simultaneously lamenting over the diminishing volume. The white fish in it was just gorgeous, and the prawns were soft - really soft (I’m not sure I’ve had such soft prawns before). Served in an oven dish with a hardened and gloriously chewy thin bit of bruschetta slathered in a pesto so vibrant I’m sure it was blitzed moments before, I was still cooing over it once I got home (£8.50).

And then there was the primi - the pastas. The surface area of the linguine with lobster, garlic and chilli had a roughness substantial enough to detect on the lips; the sharp and sweet tomato sauce clinging to every microscopic crevice as though an amorous embrace (£18/£26).

The gnocchi - good grief, the gnocchi. Simply the finest texture of its form I’ve encountered - fluffy and sticky and disintegrating into a silken substance from the pressure of the tongue against the roof of the mouth. Each one browned a little on one side, lacquered with a sauce and joined by such spring time seasonal delights as morels, asparagus and wild garlic (£11/£16.50). It was still great even after an engaging catch-up left a little of it to go cold.

Only a madman would fall for the ill-fated lethargy a carb-on-carb attack almost always induces - who orders polenta as a side to pasta (apart from Italians)? I do (it was raining, remember) and thank goodness for that. How ground corn and Parmesan can be whipped up into something so light and so delicate is a little beyond me, but well done to the kitchen for that mini-triumph. Some of the best I’ve had (£3.50).

When will this gushing end? Soon - bear with me. The tiramisu was without fault (it’s such a good gauge of an Italian restaurant - £6), the scoop of salted caramel ice cream and another of cinnamon had ethereal textures (and the flavour balance of the former was so completely right), and the pink grapefruit and melon sorbets finished the whole exquisite encounter superbly (£1.75 per scoop).

Quite simply, this is my new favourite Italian in town. Granted, I have a few of note I’m yet to try but regardless, Café Murano will be difficult to top. I have little choice but to visit Murano now - oh well..

Liked lots: all of the food, great atmosphere, spot-on warm service, feels special whilst having accessible pricing, that fish stew; there is a set lunch menu of three courses for £35
Liked less: let me get back to you
Good for: a second date (so I'm told), a first date, a 23rd date, all of your dates

My rating: 4.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

bibo, putney - review

Putney is not a dining destination. Londoners don’t, after contemplating where to visit of an evening, respond in exaltation with “Putney!”. It’s a little out of the way for those not situated in SW London. Even for those who are, it’s a first-travel-in-then-out scenario if you’re based on the Northern Line (like me).

A neighbourhood, Putney is. What a neighbourhood needs are good local restaurants that become regular haunts for residents who are after good food and wine. What Putney has recently acquired is a new-kid-on-the-block Italian offering, that, with a few improvements, has the potential to become a local favourite.

Upper Richmond Road is as uninspiring a high-street as most in London. But nestled in the bosom of a Nando’s, Pizza Express and Dominos that flank either side, Bibo and its interiors have a transportational quality that plucks you out of SW15 and plants you straight into a Soho dining-hotspot. It looks great - airy, high-ceilinged, white-washed exposed brick, dark wood, leather banquettes, a mezzanine at the rear, and an impressive bar upon entry. Once you’re in, you’ll be in no hurry to leave.

Commandeering the kitchen is Head Chef Chris Beverley (formerly at Theo Randall at The InterContinental), offering a menu of regional Italian cuisine. Portioned off into antipasti, primi, secondi and dessert, the pasta is very much where it is at. And it’s where I’ll start. Wide ribbons of crimped-edge pappardelle folded onto themselves, making best friends with a light rabbit and Prosecco ragu, was a very pleasing plate of substance and bite (small portion - £9). Raggedy black squid-ink tagliarini with soft slices of octopus, glorious amounts of garlic and flecked with red chilli was devastatingly good (small portion - £9). Present to me a kilo of this and watch it disappear before your eyes. The pastas were so impossible to ignore, we ordered a third, despite having already worked our way through most of the antipasti. The final was the polenta ravioli - al dente pasta parcels filled with wonderfully textured polenta, sitting in a pool of thickened stock bolstered with dried porcini, artichokes and parsley (small portion - £9). Really splendid.

Backwards to the antipasti. It’s impossible for me not to order chicken liver when I see it on a menu, and there were no exceptions here; crisp crostinis heavy with olive oil were a happy method of transportation for the rough paté, seasoned with capers and sporting hats of crisped pancetta (£5). Potato and ‘nduja crochette were pretty good with a very delicate touch of heat, but could have done with more (£4). The farro arancini less so, lacking in discernible flavour (£3.50).

The borlotti bean bruschetta was ok - sweet roasted tomatoes, good bread, but again the beans themselves were short on flavour, seasoning and presence in general (£6.50). A dish of salt cod, chickpeas, chard and tomato was the D-grade student of this lunch-time class - the pulses were too al dente, the sauce was watery, I was left desperately seeking savour - I’d go so far as to say I didn’t enjoy this plate (£7).

A good finale we did finish on, though. A creamy mound of salty gorgonzola against sweet poached pear and toasted and honeyed walnuts, was very pleasant (£6.50).

How the pastas can be so uniformly impressive, and the antipastis range from not-bad to an-effort-to-finish, almost makes me think there were two entirely different chefs behind them. In different kitchens. Which group the secondi fall into, I can’t say - we didn't order any.

My final concern is the pricing and portion-size ratio. Whilst the pastas were magnificent, £9 for a small plate seems a lot (and £14 for large - of which I didn’t catch sight of - also seems high). A pound for each very small crochette seems a lot. Mains ranging from £16 to £19.50 seem a lot. Particularly when factoring in location and comparisons to some very good centrally located Italian eateries that are less pricey (specifically Bocca di Lupo and Mele e Pere - the latter of which has a pre-theatre and lunch menu that are scandalously priced for the cooking you get in return). 

Despite the food being discounted at 50% during the soft-launch period we visited, we still racked up a lunch-time bill of over £30 per head with a glass of wine each. If the food was fully priced, I would have paid an amount that would not have sat right with me for both the quality and quantity of food I received. My feeling is the prices need to reduce by around 20%, or the portion sizes should increase. But then, what the hell do I know.

A special note goes out to wine man of the moment Zeren Wilson who developed the offering available at Bibo. The Pino Noir and Barbera we had were very accommodating, and Zeren was able to identify what was in our glasses by colour alone - what a pro.

The menu at Bibo reads of everything you would want to eat, yet success is hit and miss from one course to the next with prices not reflecting what is being received. If the kitchen can recover the intermittently AWOL flavour, I think the food would have a really good thing going on and I would probably return for it. 

Liked lots: the pastas - all three we had; design and interiors; staff were wonderful; the menu reads very well
Liked less: location; salt cod and chickpeas; lack of seasoning and flavour in more than one dish; prices that seem too high
Good for: trying out if you're in the neighbourhood - I'd give them another go once they're more settled if Putney were mine

My rating: 3/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.