lima floral, covent garden - review

So many restaurants, so little time / money / metabolism / willing dining partners [delete as appropriate] to tackle them all. Despite my interests placing me in them many times in a week, there are a number of key players I am yet to visit: The Clove Club, Morito, River Cafe, Antidote, Pizzaro, Tayyabs - the list is longer than the one to get into Chiltern Firehouse (don’t bother) and I’ve still barely made a dent. So if, from the endless London dining offerings all vying for my attention, I choose to eat at a new opening twice within a few days of each other, the place is doing something right.

Granted, both of these visits were within Lima Floral’s soft launch period; a common undertaking for new openings where 50% or so of the food bill is removed in exchange for the grace of customers to allow them to work through teething problems often only discovered in the throes of a busy service. It also already had it’s older, smaller, Michelin-starred sister - Lima in Fitzorovia - setting the bar high when it comes to Peruvian food; my first meal there in 2012 was my maiden encounter with the cuisine, and I fell for it and the the restaurant hard.

My expectations were high. I sidled up to the monastic building of this second site on Floral Street in Covent Garden, whilst at the same time recalling the sensation of aching jaw joints from the lime-hit in their unrivalled ceviche in Fitzrovia. The juice of citrus may as well run through my veins (that’s the Turk in me), and their liberal use of it - along with expert amounts of salt and chilli and onion and quality fish - gives me unbridled pleasure. They’re consistent, and the sea bream ceviche here is of equal distinction - joyous (£10).

For something similar but not quite the same, tiradito is akin to ceviche in that it’s raw fish in a sauce, but differs in the way the fish is cut, and that the liquor is spicy and lacks onions. It demonstrates the influence of Japanese immigrants on Peruvian cookery and here sports heat from rocoto pepper and an arresting green tiger’s milk, vibrant from coriander and parsley. Also great, my only gripe being there’s not enough of it on the plate (£9).

Then there was tuna tartare with a fat caterpillar of yellow potato sporting spines of root veg (£10), and an escabeche salad with crimson slithers of beef and an algarrobo syrup (made with pods from a carob tree) which made this a little too sweet for me (£10).

Dry Andean potato stew has an adjective misnomer; it is in fact a saucy, hearty bowl of food, the golden colour of good daal, with chunks of soft salty sheep’s cheese the texture of a sweaty Brie (£7).  There was a plate covered in glossy black roasted quinoa beads - that I’m pleased they avoided marketing as ‘soil’ - with fabulous bite between the teeth, topped with an egg that could have had a runnier yolk, a yacon (tuberous root) reduction and the apparent presence of avocado, although I couldn’t detect it. Regardless, very clever texture and flavour matching (£15).

Organic lamb rump, with both blue and yellow potato (Peru boasts a rainbow of potato colours), more quinoa, filaments of crisped onions, and queso fresco demonstrated skill in both execution and presentation. A striking dish with just-right meat, and despite the most conservative drizzle of a jus, not at all dry (£22).

I rarely order fish for mains (it’s hard to ignore red meat winking from a menu), but the grilled monkfish is superb. In a tiger’s milk broth with great depth, courgette and chilli peppers settling at the bottom, and hunks of meaty flesh bobbing about, I sunk the dregs direct with a throw back of the head. Too good not to, and it had a great back-of-the-throat climbing chilli heat (£20).

All the desserts are unusual, and good. Suspiro ardiente has shards of meringue speckled with chilli, powdered pink beetroot and a little dulce de leche that should have been a lot of dulce de leche. Café Peruano, with it’s coffee ice cream, a crumbling of purple potato and red kiwicha (amaranth seed) was great - just remember not to breathe as you’re eating or you’ll have something close to the cinnamon challenge as table entertainment. 

The chocolate mousse with oats and wood sorrel was thick and decadent and a glorious texture. I tried the fourth dessert on my second visit - with chirimoya (a fruit that tastes like an amalgamation of lots of other fruits), more potato, and maca root. It was also good (all £6).

South-American superstar of the moment, chef Virgilio Martinez, sources ingredients from the UK as well as introducing diners to new and unheard of Peruvian elements, which makes a reviewer like me more thankful than usual for Wikipedia. There is a real sense of the kitchen showcasing Peru’s vast biodiversity with what is indigenous and unique there.

The website describes Lima Floral, when comparing to Lima, as “nothing better nor worse but clearly distinct and in the same spirit: dynamic, bold and in a traditional kitchen”. I think it’s spot on. Like Lima, everything looks beautiful - both the food and the interiors, with the bright Inca patterned cushions and abstract art found at both sites. The capacity at Floral is far greater, with a basement dedicated to walk-ins and a ‘piqueos bar’ serving cocktails and a completely different menu of small plates, which I must return to try.

It’s worth noting that a pisco sour is my go-to cocktail. I order them wherever I drink that has pisco behind the bar. I’m yet to find one as good as those rustled up at the two Lima’s.

Liked lots: ceviche, ceviche, ceviche
Liked less: some of the starter portions could be deemed as on the small side
Good for: the best pisco sours in town, colourful potatoes, unusual ingredients, their great value set lunch menu - three courses and a glass of house wine for £19.50 and includes Saturdays - see you there

My rating: 4/5

Afiyet olsun.

 

Lima in London - Review

braised lamb shoulder / coriander & pisco jus
/ black quinoa & white grape

I’ll be the first to admit there isn’t a huge amount I know about Peruvian cuisine, other than what the odd Facebook holiday snap has taught me from friends who have undertaken the obligatory year of travelling before starting any real work (pangs of envy fully acknowledged), opting for South America rather than the equally well-trodden Far East. Which is that they eat guinea pigs (what a philistine).  But what I did know was that I certainly would not turn down the opportunity to learn more, an offer in the form of an invite to visit Lima (alas, not the actual city) in London with two very good friends.

Our table was booked for 7pm and on arrival, I was greeted by a young woman very pleasing to the eye who directed me through the narrow channel running along the length of the bar at the front of the restaurant.  It lead to about 15 tables at the rear against an understated but sophisticated neutral backdrop, interrupted by a burst of colour from a piece of abstract art on the back wall and a scattering of bright Inca patterned cushions.

Lea & I

The menu was brief – a telling sign in the confidence of its content.  Yet it still managed to result in many minutes of painfully toying between the offerings - their highly appraised sea bream ceviche or duck crudo to start? The crab or confit of suckling pig for main? They were fighting it out on the page and in the end I ordered none of the aforementioned, instead succumbing to the octopus and the lamb. Along with one of Peru’s signature cocktails of which we all indulged in – a pisco sour.  These were served light and frothy, depositing the remnants of a milky moustache from the whisked egg whites whilst leaving the mouth reeling from an invigorating, lip-puckering sourness with every sip. I could very easily start every morning with one of these.

The meal began with a presentation of a delightful amuse-bouche along with our bread basket, in the form of a shot glass sized serving of wonderfully creamy and coating pale yoghurt with the characteristic tang of acidity from one of quality, shocked with a bright green coriander sauce.

The starters soon arrived and were quite glorious in their presentation – my octopus was braised and served on a bed of white quinoa alongside lilac polka dots of an incredibly intense olive sauce.  The charred edges of the meat that caught the pan were crisp and concentrated in their flavour, marrying very well with the fruity familiarity of the olives.

braised octopus al olivo / white quinoa
/ botija olive bubbles

duck crudo / algarrobo tree honey /
shaved fois gras / ghoa cress

Lea was keen to sample the ceviche of which there had been many favourable references to in various reviews. Whilst looking delicate and dainty in the bowl, I knew nothing about what it contained and immediately assumed a bout of food envy on Lea’s part when compared to the presence of Mel’s silky duck slithers, or the chunky charred tentacles on my plate.  

I duly and politely dipped in a spoon to sample the unassuming milky liquid housing pieces of barely opaque fish. And, well – the mere half teaspoon of this nectar was enough to nearly blow me right out the front door with its chop-walloping splendour.  The barrel gun impact of sourness and salt with an allium and chilli presence exploded on the palette, the tongue smacking the roof of the mouth in reflex to such a taste sensation.  Coupled with the spanking fresh sea breem it contained and the crunch of the salty corn kernals for texture, it was really something else - a whole paragraph dedicated to a dish I didn’t even order says something. 

I subsequently found out post-meal what a ceviche is – at its most basic it is raw fish marinated in citrus, salt and seasonings with the acid in the juice denaturing the protein in the meat in a similar way that cooking does. Or in other words, something I need much more of in my life.

All hail the mighty ceviche
- with sweet onion skin & inka corn

Plates were cleared and our mains were delivered while I was still preoccupied with thoughts about the dish that got away. However, I had a new task to address sitting under my nose and in need of attention – a neat hunk of braised lamb shoulder lavished with a coriander and pisco jus, alongside black quinoa and white grape. 

The meat was beautiful - a concentrated and slightly sticky crust encasing soft and moist flesh providing almost no resistance against the fork. The snippets of sweet from the grape worked very well in contrast to the deep flavours from the lamb. 

Mel’s confit of suckling pig was generous in its portion size with a sticky richness and a perfect amount of bite from the puy lentils, and Lea’s crab was an absolute riot of natural fresh colours, almost arresting in their iridescent quality.

crab / purple corn reduction
/ huayo potato / red kiwicha

Lea ordered the dulche de leche ice cream which was pleasant when I sampled it, particularly with a touch of the set Amazonian maca root honey smeared onto the side of the bowl. I had the cacao porcelana which is essentially very similar to chocolate fudge – the crunch and teeth-sticking quality of the blue potato wafers worked well with the silky texture of the chocolate, along with the hint of sharp sweetness from the mango. 

Mel ordered the Andean kiwicha (another South American super grain like quinoa) with sheep’s milk, purple corn and pineapple jelly, and a cinnamon crust. Contrary to all the other dishes, this one didn’t look as appetising on the plate.

dulche de leche ice cream / beetroot emulsion
/ amazonian maca root honey

cacao porcelana 75% / mango & hierbabuena granita
/ blue potato crystal

Whilst still good, I felt the desserts were the weakest of the courses. However, the sheer unadulterated joy provided from the previous dishes was so all-encompassing that it really didn’t matter. The meal, my company, and the whole evening was a full on pleasure steam train ploughing through the Peruivian landscape and absorbing all it had to offer. It was a sublime way to spend a cold Monday evening, and I shall without a doubt be returning.

Afiyet olsun.