turkish spring lamb with green beans

I’ve been doing a lot of writing recently. Which is great, because I don’t half love it. Sharing my dining experiences at restaurants I think the world and his wife should eat at, writing up my weekly Food Bites column for the website of my local paper (on which it seems I am yet to offend; that, or no one is reading it), informing the nation they’re mad for not liking sushi, and so forth. But it’s time intensive. Each piece is a process and a labour of love and to be frank, a pain in the arse in the firm grip of self-doubt. I can imagine it’s akin to the doting parent wanting their child to succeed academically, once they are able to exert the authority to stop said child running about with their pants down and a crayon up their nose. Each piece presents a certain amount of stress that needs to be managed and contended with. My personal process for a piece of food writing, with no applied science or order, goes something like this: find an interesting and relevant topic, conduct necessary research, think of an introduction angle, spew my thoughts into the glaring abyss of a blank white screen, realise I haven’t actually made a point, make a point, panic at required deadlines, apply a filter to discard the crap, find better ways to phrase sentences, get rid of more words, find better ways to say ‘delicious’, attempt and fail at humour, mutter inaudibly ‘this is really shit’, insert hyperlinks, edit photographs, contend with the wretched personality of Blogger’s formatting, proofread, remove more words and finally a good few hours later, I’ll submit. And I’ll do so with a sense of achievement, despite the aforementioned tribulations. Chaotic creativity at best. Ignored online fodder at worst.

These increased hours spent at the laptop of late have inevitably resulted in less time spent in the kitchen. I’ll often find myself writing about food, with self-inflicted hunger pangs due to the nature of the content, only to find I’m surrounded by a food void, a culinary abyss. I have coined this predicament The Food Writing Paradox - writing about food when the presence of anything decent to eat is absent in my immediate surroundings. Like shopping for food on an empty stomach, it is not advised. 

But I made a point this weekend to busy the fingers with a different activity and one that would result in stomach satiety. And here it is, a Turkish regular on the weekend dinner table when I lived with my parents. A one pot wonder perfect for when the hankering is for a light but hearty meal on a summers evening.

Turkish spring lamb with green beans

Makes 4 portions

600g lean diced lamb

500g potatoes, cut into bite-sized chunks

350g green beans

1 onion, diced

3 tbsp concentrated tomato purée

Meat stock (lamb or chicken), enough to just cover the contents

Olive oil

Juice from two lemons to serve

Top and tail the beans and then carefully split each one lengthways with a knife.

In a large saucepan or casserole dish, fry the lamb in a little olive oil until browned. Add the potato chunks, the halved green beans and the tomato purée and coat in the meaty juices for a couple of minutes.

Pour in your stock until the contents of the pan is only just covered. Season with salt and pepper and leave to blip away on a low heat until the lamb is tender and the potatoes and beans are cooked.

Serve in warmed bowls and with a tablespoon or so of lemon juice over each portion. Accompany with crusty bread to mop up the juice and a simple side salad of flat leaf parsley, cucumber and mint if you fancy it.

Afiyet olsun.

food blogger connect event #FBC5

outstanding cheeses from La Fromagerie

From 5^th – 7^th July, Battersea Arts Centre will be home to the annual Food Blogger Connect event – the world’s leading international food blogger conference. Food bloggers, food stylists, food writers, industry specialists, media contacts, suppliers, caterers and a whole host more all gather to connect, share, learn and of course eat. The programme over the three days sees an array of talks, interactive workshops and question panels with some of the most tenured names in the industry, using the opportunity of a gathering of like-minded food enthusiasts to share their experiences and advice with all. Sessions range from how to get published in magazines and writing memorable recipes that work, to how to launch a product line and direct blog monetisation, not to mention almost everything in between (and needless to say punctuated with a lot of eating and drinking).

David Lebovitz and
Bethany Khedy

Founded in 2009 by Bethany Khedy (@Bethanykd) and celebrating it’s 5^th successful year, the event has seen incredible growth in its popularity with humble beginnings of just a handful of food bloggers meeting in a pub to revel in their common interest of food. 

The mission statement of Food Blogger Connect is ‘to connect food bloggers and food industry folks, helping to create a community that inspires and nurtures creativity, innovation and professionalism’. With attendees having travelled from countries such as Italy, the Netherlands, USA, Canada, and in my case the far-flung land of ‘around the corner’ from where I work in Clapham, the event seems to achieve just that.

I had a pass for the Friday and with Moleskine in hand, scrawled down the most useful insight I took away from the talks and workshops, some of which I have shared below:

What does successful blogging mean anyway?

Panel with David Lebovitz (@davidlebovitz), Niamh Shields of Eat Like a Girl (@eatlikeagirl), Emma Gardener of Poires au Chocolat (@poireschocolat)

• People like to read about flaws in others and overcoming them, people with problems and challenges DL
• People like tension in photography (e.g. a plate teetering on a table edge) DL
• Think about any monetisation from your blog once a few years have passed DL
• Regarding photos, the messier it gets, the better it will be. The flaws in photos are the most interesting part. ‘Perfect’ pictures whilst pretty, can be less evocative DL
• Some people will like what you do, some won’t. But it doesn’t matter. The good thing about getting older is you don’t care anymore – do it all for yourself DL
• ‘Blog for yourself and other people will come’ NS
• Edit, edit edit – take out anything superfluous including words and photography DL
  

David Lebovitz

How to get published in magazines

Panel with Ren Behan of Fabulicious Food (@RenBehan) and Karen Burns-Booths of Lavender and Lovage (@KarenBurnsBooth)

• Have a particular angle or niche – find something unique you have to offer that will make you stand out
• Don’t blog all your recipes, keep some back to give to Editors who show interest as they will want exclusive content
• Be sure to ask for Editorial Frameworks
• The key feature of a good piece is quality – ‘quality speaks for itself quietly, mediocrity has to be shouted about and is often ignored’
• Think a few months ahead and try to identify trends that are coming up – submitting content around these will get you noticed

Nichely Does It

Aoife Cox of The Daily Spud (@DailySpud)

• Ways to carve a niche can be subject matter, writing style, type of post, breadth of focus

The important stuff

It is of course neither possible nor wise to bring a bunch of food enthusiasts together in a single building and not feed them regularly with decent fare - the force of a hungry baying throng should never be underestimated, particularly if 97% are female (a fair reflection of the gender representation at FBC). 

Not only were we not disappointed, we were thoroughly thrilled at the sight of upcoming food and drink stands lined up outside, attracting the attention of passers-by, sun drenched and serving up freshly cooked delights to fill our bellies with as much as we could muster as the sustenance was included in the price of our tickets. A collective declaration of 'result!', was detectable when us first-timers realised it was all at no extra cost. A reason to return in itself. With SLR laden necks and lenses pointing at every bit of activity taking place, once we had achieved our desirable shots there was no stopping us. 

The folks at Pig a Chic (@pigachic) had some of the best tasting stuff there with meandering queues of attendees eager to sample the spicy Bangkok street food stall. There was marinated pork and chicken available, smoky from the grill and served with a papaya salad and your choice of chilli sauce - quite delicious.

La Fromagerie (@lafromagerieuk) are based in Marylebone and presented us with a table laden with quite simply some of the finest cheeses I have sampled, sweating and gooey from the midday heat, only adding to the glorious flavours on offer. Particular favourites included the Beaufort and truffle infused Brie - does it get any more unashamedly decadent?

From Asia via Dorset, the lovely folk at Dorshi (@eatdorshi) rustled up fried pork dumplings and hand-rolled-on-demand pearl barley sushi with crab and fresh horseradish. Moreish bites indeed.

Things took a sweet turn at afternoon tea, with Bev's Cookies (@BevsCookies) serving up dessert flavoured rounds of delight - think tiramisu, apple crumble, red velvet, strawberry cheesecake and lemon meringue flavours hiding behind the façade of a cookie. To help wash it down were large glass jars of homemade milkshakes decanted into little shot portions.

Mauritian supperclub extraordinaire Selina Periampilli from Yummy Choo Eats (@yummychooeats) along with her mamma served up the usual high standard of typical street food from the island, including gateux piment, aubergine fritters, pineapple with chilli and homemade chutneys. Check out my review of one of Selina's pop-ups here - they come highly recommended.

The very friendly folk representing Appleton Estate (@appletonestate) plying me with far too much delicious Jamaican rum punch.

It's worth mentioning these were just a few of the consumable delights on offer that I had the patience to photograph before my overriding hunger pangs took the wheel - there were many more. Not to mention other stalls for the remainder of the weekend event.

And check out the goody bad bounty (minus two bottles of beer I shared with a friend somewhere between the end of the event and getting home).

I'll fully admit I walked through the doors of the Battersea Arts Centre a little apprehensive - I didn't know anyone and I've never been to an event like this before. But any qualms I had were soon dismissed once I realised how friendly everyone was, and that most of us were in exactly the same situation. 

Friday was great and I'm more than a little gutted I'm missing out on two more days of new friends, new food and learning new things. I can't even say I'll be back next year (I'll be out of the country) which is a real shame. However there's a lot I've taken away which I'll put to good use, and hopefully I've acquired a few more people to meet and squeal over food with.

A special 'hi!' to the lovely ladies @yummychooeats @FoodEatLove @NoisetteBakes @aalavoie - we need to meet for some wine..

Afiyet olsun.

the 10 most hated foods of the nation

Last month a poll was conducted ahead of an event taking place prior to the G8 summit in Northern Ireland, to drive global action to reduce hunger and malnutrition. A group of 2011 British adults were asked to list the foods they could not or would not eat. The majority of the entries that made the top ten most detested food items reads to me less of a culinary hit list and more of a fabulous tasting menu (albeit a slightly misguided one with the combination of ingredients). This list doesn’t just consist of food I like to eat, it consists of food I actively seek out on a menu and order over other options. This list comprises of some of the most sought after ingredients available to the culinary savvy, providing the centre piece to incredible dishes and dining memories. Allow me to extol the virtues of these fabulous morsels and perhaps help change the opinions of a nation.

10 - Marzipan

The smooth and thick paste like confection that is marzipan comes in at number ten with 26% of the vote. It is comprised of sugar, egg and ground almonds and is most commonly used as a base for the icing on a Christmas or wedding cake. Marzipan can indeed sometimes be too sweet and an aversion to melting teeth is understandable. But if it’s the almond flavour in general that is disliked by the nation, then this is an opinion I, and most of Italy, would find difficult to swallow. Both the riciarelli and amaretti biscuit are made with the same key ingredients of almonds, sugar and egg whites and are almost ubiquitous in their presence perched on the saucer of a strong coffee throughout Italy. If the flavour of sweet almond is something you’re not yet accustomed to, try knocking up a batch of these easy biscuits and start from there. Either that or pour yourself two fingers of Amaretto (Italian almond flavoured liqueur) and initiate yourself the ballsy way.

amaretti biscuits - a flavour of sweet almond similar to marzipan

8 - Olives

In at number eight are olives, the humble collection of green and black oval appetisers found at the start of restaurant meals across the land. According to the results, 33% of British adults would leave well alone and instead probably fill up on bread. Being half Turkish Cypriot, I don’t ever recall a time when I haven’t discreetly been popping out stones between pursed lips at a meal. If a Turkish meal doesn’t contain olives, then it’s not Turkish. Hell, it’s barely even a meal. And the same goes for other Mediterranean countries each with their own range of olive offerings – creamy and mild Spanish Manzanilla olives; firm, meaty, earthy and green Italian Cerignola olives; large black Greek Kalamata olives; and the list extends considerably further. It’s worth spending a little extra for olives that haven’t been brined beyond recognition as I suspect it’s the taste from this process that causes a lot of the hostility. Look for regional olives from a decent deli and give them another try, I implore you.

7 – Blue cheese

Blue cheese pongs its way in at number seven with 34% of the votes. But surely everyone salivates at the sight of mould inflected produce that smells of sockless hipster feet in loafers at the end of a hot day - no? Its presence on this list is not a surprise to me as our ingrained biological instinct is to have a natural aversion to blue food, especially if it is accompanied by a heavy and tangy bouquet. A developed palate is needed to enjoy the pungent pleasures of blue cheese but if the taste can be acquired, it is entirely worth it. Perhaps start with milder offerings such as Danish Blue or Gorgonzola until you’re ready to work your way to the middle ground of Stilton. Then one day you may even find yourself enjoying the potent pleasures of Roquefort. A little goes a long way - enjoy thin slithers perched on water biscuits followed by a sweet seedless grape chaser.

6 - Sushi

Sushi has made a splash at number six with what to me is an incomprehensible 37% of the votes. Forget polls, surveys, or the ‘cool foodie’ associations this far-eastern food item might have. Hands down, Japanese cuisine is in my top three favourite cuisines the world has to offer, and it’s one I could solely eat for the rest of my life (although the lack of dairy would hit me at some point). There are many components to it, with sushi (parcels of cooked rice with other ingredients such as egg, vegetables, cooked fish and raw fish) and sashimi (thinly sliced and spanking fresh raw seafood) being just a couple of these. There are few things more delightful than rigor fresh seafood, bright and firm, seasoned with soy and accompanied by the temporary but intense nose-busting hit of wasabi. A perfect example of fresh ingredients stealing the show with little if any interference. Never buy pre-packaged sushi from supermarkets. Do venture to a well-reviewed establishment and introduce yourself to sushi and sashimi the way it was intended. If you’re feeling particularly extravagant, pop over to Tokyo to enjoy a 15 minute slot of silent eating after a one month waiting list to sample a piece of 87 year old Jiro Ono’s offering – universally acknowledged as the best sushi chef on the planet. The privilege will set you back upwards of $300. But then his octopuses are massaged for 45 minutes prior to slaughter..

5 – Black pudding

If the thought of eating blood sausage turns your stomach, you are part of the 39% of the population with similar sentiments. Regardless of what deep-rooted experience or ingrained belief renders black pudding an issue for so many, if these qualms can be overcome there is a lot of deliciousness to be savoured. I recently indulged in a high-end Full English breakfast from Hawksmoor in Seven Dials, purveyors of some of the best meat on the market, and it was in fact the black pudding that was my favourite thing on the plate – a beautiful soft texture and wonderfully seasoned. Alternatively, seek out Spain’s equivalent (morcilla) and the presence of the smoky sweet heat from pimenton (Spanish paprika) may be enough to entice you. Source, slice and fry for a traditional tapa. Give it a go.

4 – Tofu

Tofu is such a quiet and unassuming ingredient that it’s difficult to see why a whopping 42% were adamant they would not eat it. Tofu is made from pressing the curds of soy milk into soft white blocks; granted it has the potential to be an uninspiring and bland slab of sponge. But it’s the properties of this sponge like form that can make it a winning staple; cook it with exciting and vibrant flavours and all of the seasoned goodness will be absorbed and permeate. Tofu is the blank canvas of the culinary world, ready to showcase any flavour you throw at it. Try the fried tofu with Chinese mushrooms noodle soup from Mama Lan in Clapham Common for an excellent example of them crispy, packed with flavour and swimming in a deep and spicy broth. 

fried tofu with Chinese mushrooms noodle soup - Mama Lan

3 – Anchovies

Do you like Worcestershire sauce staining the bubbling grilled cheese on your toast? Of course you do. I’ll bet you didn’t know anchovies are a key ingredient in it. 45% of those surveyed are against the idea of the small, salty, silver sea water fish. It seems the staples of the Spanish cuisine get a bit of a battering in this survey; the best tasting anchovies are the Engraulis Encrasicholus (EE) species found in the waters around western and northern Spain, Portugal and the Mediterranean Sea. Anchovies are as much of a seasoning as they are an ingredient. If the strong flavour from whole preserved fillets is too much to handle, try mashing some in a pestle and mortar along with grated garlic and olive oil. Heat this mixture in a pan until the fish flesh has disintegrated, then add cooked spaghetti and coat in the oily mixture on a low heat – serve immediately with parsley and lemon. I challenge anyone to not enjoy it in this format.

2 – Liver

As soon as I spot on a menu chicken liver parfait, pâté, mousse, or any other ‘way’ in which chicken livers can be treated, there is little point in me eyeballing the remaining offerings. These concoctions spread on crisp thin toast with a sprinkle of thyme are outstanding bites. I recall being overcome by an intense craving for chicken livers one lonely night in university halls. I promptly procured a tub, fried them until just tender, doused them in lemon and ate a whole plateful with crusty bread. The texture of gently fried chicken liver is soft, smooth and crumbly and the flavour is even better. Other liver such as calves can be richer and heavy with the taste of iron, so should the 46% who do not care for it wish to initiate themselves, start with the milder chicken offering. If gristle puts you off, visit a butcher and request they leave you with nothing but the glossy pink brown meat for you to apply heat to. Sensational simply with lemon.

my homemade chicken liver pâté - a staple around Christmas

1 – Oysters

The Marmite of the sea-swelling world, it’s no surprise they top the list with almost half (47%) of those questioned claiming they could not or would not eat them. Once dismissed as simple peasant fare, the oyster is now held in the highest regard as one of the finest tastes available for those able to appreciate it. My first two experiences with these bi-valved molluscs were underwhelming and mostly consisted of a gum line full of grit with a grimace. For an experience akin to churning torrents of the North Sea deluging your immediate dining vicinity and engulfing everything in its path with an invigorating saline slap across the chops, try the Wright Brothers Oyster and Porter House in Borough Market. Juicy sweet meat, wonderful texture and as fresh as if the sea were through the back doors and the oysters had been plucked out just a few moments prior. Any qualms I previously had about oysters were atomically blasted out of existence on my first visit.  Forget tales of slimy flesh and stories of launching them down the gullet to avoid any real interaction with the meat.  Instead find a reputable establishment - eat them fresh, raw and naked.  Chew, savour, and delight over these alien looking wonders.

a dozen rocks from Wright Brothers Oyster & Porterhouse

9 – Liquorice The observant amongst you will notice the omission of the ninth listing further up the post. I thought I’d save this one until last, as it’s the soul entry I agree with. Yes you heard correctly, I agree with it. I am definitely part of the 28% of the population who listed it as a food they would not eat. The only flavour I have come across in my relatively far reaching tales of eating that I simply cannot endure is that of anise. Catch just a whiff of it and I feel my throat closing as it prepares its defences. A bag of liquorice All Sorts is my idea of hell and they look as horrific as they smell – black consumables with unnatural and luminescent pink, yellow and blue colouring. Who does this appeal to? Being Turkish, my dad is partial to the odd glass or two of Raki, the Turkish equivalent of the better known Greek Ouzo, a white aniseed liqueur mixed with a dash of water to turn it cloudy. As soon as the bottle cap is unscrewed I make my excuses and swiftly depart the scene. I once purchased a whole pot of glistening fresh olives from a deli counter only for them to be stealthily scattered with fennel seeds, too many to pick off individually - the (rather expensive) pot of olives was soon abandoned. The level of aniseed I can handle is that of dill (so, extremely mild), which incidentally, I absolutely love. So there we have it, my counter argument to the nation’s declarations of distaste. Liquorice aside, my conclusion is the whole country has gone mad and I’m the only sane person left. That, or society hasn’t give these items enough of a chance. It turns out that most of the time we decide what we like before we even bother to experience it, and this prejudice clouds our perception of what we actually encounter. So the moral of this story is cast your first impressions aside, as sometimes they’ll be wrong. Instead, embrace new experiences, textures and flavours and give yourself a good dozen goes before you write something off completely. I best join my dad in his next glass of Raki then. *barf*
Do you agree with these results? Do they contain any of your favourite foods? What are your most abhorred flavours? Do let me know your thoughts!
Afiyet olsun.

This article can also be found on the Your Local Guardian website.

fino, fitzrovia - review

arroz negro - squid ink risotto 

Along with Japanese and Turkish, I’d say Spanish cuisine is right up there in my top three favourites. Quality cookery shows (namely A Cook’s Tour of Spain hosted by Thomasina Miers in 2008 and more recently Rick Stein’s Spain from 2011) have done wonders in opening my eyes to the regional nuances and the ingredient staples that make Spanish dishes so identifiable and exceptional. 

I recall watching with salivating jaw towards the floor under the influence of both amazement and excitement as I began to realise what I thought I knew about Spanish cuisine was barely the tip of the iceberg. Couple these shows with the immense presence of all 960 pages of ‘1080 recipes by Simone and Ines Ortega’ in my kitchen with its own gravitational pull and beautiful colour shots of traditional Spanish dishes from the country’s best-loved food authorities, and I was sold for life.

The Spaniards love their beans, vegetables, nuts, pork, seafood, garlic and cheese – what’s not to fall for? Dishes are often stained the fiery colours of the flag from the Spanish flavour signposts that are smoky red pimentón de la Vera (one of my favourite spices of all time – a separate post about it here) and the golden glows of saffron, along with sherry vinegar and extra virgin olive oil. 

Here’s a shopping list of what you would find in a typical Spanish larder: chickpeas, chorizo, pancetta, cured ham, lentils, octopus, olives, pimentón, rice, salt cod, almonds, dried beans, fresh white anchovies, manzanilla olives, and so much more. It makes me want to jump on a plane yesterday.

chorizo iberico 

But here’s a joyous piece of news, there is no need. For Fino situated on Charlotte Street presents London with the same quality, freshness and delight you would expect from dining in Castile–La Mancha itself, but with a modern twist and closer to home. 

Both Fino and Barrafina (the Soho sister restaurant) are run by brothers Sam and Eddie Hart with the former opening its doors in 2003 as one of the first restaurants in London to offer contemporary Spanish food. The kitchen is commandeered by Executive Head Chef Nieves Barragán Mohacho with roots in the Basque country, and the menu is fluid with seasonality dictating the provincial dishes that are made available. 

The focus on ingredients is centred around the best Spain has to offer alongside available local produce. Having been privy to nothing but glowing reports from friends and colleagues who have sampled it, I’m still trying to figure out why it’s taken me so long to visit. But visit I have, and visit I most certainly will again.

ham croquetas - outstanding

A wooden board layered with kimono silk thin chorizo iberico started off the proceedings, marbled fat disintegrating from the warmth of the tongue. A plate of pimientos (small green peppers) from Padrón crispy fried and sprinkled with coarse salt busied our fingers. Both the ham and cod croquetas were ordered. The latter delicious and sitting on a bed of sable squid ink, but the former were exceptional - light and crisp exteriors encasing velvet béchamel middles and savoury cubes of porky lardons. Unadulterated pleasures to consume. 

The octopus meat was soft and yielding, glistening burnt orange from the marriage between the pimentón and olive oil, and scattered with little piquant capers. Scallop ceviches were presented in their shells in individual portions and while small were soft and delicate, sour from lime, and topped with a sprinkling of chopped chives and a dusting of rust coloured pimentón.

pimientos de padrón 

squid croquetas 

scallop ceviche

scallop ceviche

A tortilla was ordered, almost to my lament. I’ve always viewed them as the fodder of the tapas world to help ensure the diner doesn’t leave hungry. I’m also not the world’s biggest spud fan, so uninspiring looking rounds of amalgamated potato and egg leave me at best taking no more than a mouthful and at worse, completely ignoring them on the menu. 

But praise be, this was not only the best I had ever eaten (not that much of an acclaim as I don’t eat them that often), but it was one of my favourite dishes from this already extraordinary spread. Perfectly formed, moist and soft, and packed to the rafters with flavour. It had a gooey middle and was topped with pungent alioli and diced chorizo. A real joy to eat and a lesson about culinary pre-conceptions learnt. I recall having a similar reaction to what turned out to be the best couscous I have ever eaten in Marrakesh, elevated to levels I didn’t know couscous could reach. You can read that here – scroll down to ‘The Last and Best Supper’.

chorizo & alioli tortilla - gold star 

Fingers of soft potato were wrapped in thin chorizo slices, christened ‘potato and chorizo chips’ and fried to a sensational crisp with the delicious burnished paprika oil staining the fingers and the plate. 

The nutty familiarity of the Manchego (hands down one of my favourite cheeses) was welcomed, slices glistening with a film of sweat from the heat of the spotlights. The arroz negro (black risotto) was served perfectly al dente, glossy and black from squid ink, and in a small copper pot topped with squid meat. It had come recommended from a chef on Twitter and they were spot on with the commendation.

potato and chorizo chips

I have found in previous engagements the fat in crispy pork belly to be too sickly to consume - not the case at Fino. The meat was soft, the fat delicate, and the crackling crisp without rendering it impenetrable. 

A single crème catalana was ordered for all three party members to share in addition to insides full to bursting. The subtle hints of citrus and pallid light orange flesh speckled with the black seeds of vanilla pods were exposed once the hard caramel top had been fractured with the collective tapping of our spoons.

crisp pork belly

creme catalana

The interiors leave quite a bit to be desired, with the high percentage of suited post-work clientele reflecting the generic corporate décor, akin to the breakfast room of a business hotel chain. 

And I really don’t like the lighting – the artificial glare from intense and hot spotlights over tables does nothing to frame the beautiful food delivered, or my ability to photograph it (the reflective pork belly picture is particularly poor - apologies). 

But front of house was faultless and consisted of a small army of petite and pretty Spaniards. And the food was dreamy - certainly the best tapas I’ve encountered. My next table here has already been reserved – I think that speaks for itself.

Liked lots – tortilla, squid ink risotto, ham croquetas, wine, service, value, changing menu, Spanish staff, location, being able to reserve
Liked less – décor, lighting
Good for – catching up with friends, romantic dinners, eating the best tapas in town, regular visits

My rating: 5/5

Afiyet olsun.