Cafe Murano, Mayfair

Mother's Day lunch at Cafe Murano with the family. 

Santa Maria, pizza to make you smile

"All men are made equal", but the more I eat and try new food, I realise that those immortal words certainly don’t ring true about food. All food is different. Even the same food is different. For example, take the humble burger, one of the most hotly discussed topic amongst my food loving twitter friends. Open or closed, sauced or unsauced, cheddar or American, pink, how pink? With such a plethora of requirements and protocol around the humble burger, I guess it is unsurprising that many other comestibles have a strict list of points to make it “right”.

Berwick St newcomers: Banh Mi 11 and Pizza Pilgrims

Berwick Street Market is one of the oldest in town, having been established in the area since the late 19th century. Traditionally home to old school fruit and vegetable salesman, you would walk down the narrow street and be met with the cacophany of tradesman pitching their wares. These days, many of these sounds are muted, and although a few of the fruit and veg salesman remain, new residents are beginning to move in.

Union Jacks - "We're not in Italy any more..."

Jamie Oliver, love him or hate him the little scamp. Personally, I am stuck right in the middle of this rather complicated equation. I love rustic Italian food with strong clean flavours, and much of the food that Mr Oliver serves at Fifteen (his first solo venture) falls firmly into this category. Jamies Italian, his subsequent chain of Italian restaurants, still hits the spot if all I am craving is a well put together bowl of pasta (ignore the other stuff like the “worlds best olives”. They’re not bad, but definitely not the best and the rest of the menu is lacking). Now we have Union Jacks, which, at the insistence of our server, does NOT serve pizzas but very British flats.

This emphasis amused me a lot, but I kind of understand why. The amount of times where I have declared that a pizza was good, only to be castigated by an Italian friend telling me that these pizzas could never be good, as they aren’t real Italian pizzas. Too much sauce, the wrong dough, bad mozzarella, the list goes on. Best to play it safe. Jamies rendition of an English "flat" is definitely not that far removed from the Italian pizza, but tasted pretty good in my eyes.

Taking along a few of my colleagues, we managed to give most of the flats a run out. My personal favourite was the Woodman which was essentially a mixture of mushroom, cheddar and herbs. The chervil and tarragon were a nice touch, with hints of licorice cutting through the rich mushrooms and the pickled red onion adding a little pep to the rich earthy flavours.

Out of the other flats, the Red Ox (ox tail, brisket, red Leicester) was the surprise hit for colleagues who were a little wary of oxtail (but grew to enjoy the deep beefy flavour), where the Chilli Freak and the Old Spot weren't too bad either. The only real disappointment was the slightly wet ham hock terrine, even though it arrived looking the part.

Geographical origin aside, I enjoyed the flats, and although the space is rather large and oddly shaped, there was a nice hum around lunchtime, even if the staff seemed to be rather haphazardly running around and chatting to each other as opposed to tending to their tables. I guess I would be the same if I knew I had to spew the same "these are not pizzas" spiel every time somebody sat down. Even so, embrace the flats and swing by for some tasty treats on dough.

Union Jacks - 4 Central St. Giles Piazza, LONDON WC2H 8AB

Da Polpo: The Norman Conquest gathers speed

Ever since the opening of the original Polpo, Russell Norman's empire has grown rapidly, one establishment at a time. Each iteration, expanding on the last, all subtly different, but at the heart of it, serving simple straightforward Italian dishes to the good people of Soho. I never had that much love for Polpetto (which seems to be a lot of peoples favourite), with Polpo remaining a firm favourite for a fun and enjoyable meal in Soho, and Spuntino beating them both for fun and food, serving slightly more American orientated dishes.

The one and only River Cafe, Hammersmith

On paper, River Cafe comes across as one of those nose bleedingly expensive places in London. One that instils you with doubt before you even had a second to give it a chance. One where you start wondering where the magic is going to come from to justify the notes you will inevitable have to drop. In my years in London, I always thought of it as somewhere that would be nice if someone decided to take me (be it a client or long lost rich aunt) but with no such miracle forthcoming, it remained on my "when I happen to win the lottery" list.

Mini Bites: Pepe, Covent Garden

I have just got back from holiday, a lovely week sunning myself in the South of Italy, only to find myself wrenched back to normal life, staring out the window from my 6th floor office, into nothing but miles of grey clouds. I know what will cheer me up, some Italian food will surely do the trick.

Making Pasta at Fifteen, Old Street

The brand of "Oliver" has definitely spread far and wide since the first few days that his face appeared on the Naked Chef. I remember fondly the day that he brought a different kind of energy to the TV screen and I always waited intently for what next week would bring. Not everyone's cup of tea, but I have always been a fan. A couple years down the line, he has spawned multiple tv series, crusades and the restaurants. Some might say, he's done pretty well for himself.

Los Angeles Day 2: In-n-Out and pasta with the Village Idiot at Osteria Mozza

The recreation grounds at Venice Beach

Day two in LA saw me really embrace my inner tourist. Being a non driver, and facing up to the lack of public transport in LA, I decided that the best way to see the city would be to hop on a city tour and let them drive me around. My tour of choice cost $65 for the day, starting at 9am, picking me up from my hotel and proceeded to take me around LA, delivering me back to my hotel at 4pm.

The canals in Venice

Throughout the day, I travelled far and wide. The morning took in the highlights of Santa Monica and Venice Beach (where the area was designed to be like Venice, Italy, canals and all) and headed on downtown, where the streets were empty bar a group of protesters. With not much going on there other than large buildings housing the cities offices, we swung back to Hollywood to check out the walk of fame, famous theatres, but more importantly, to have lunch.

In-n-Out has picked up quite a following in London. Burgers have been growing in popularity over the years, and the influential Meatwagon, Byron and Hawksmoor burgers are amongst the many who have been leading the charge. In-n-Out are not a gourmet burger, but are much more fast food, focused on using good ingredients with each individual burger cooked fresh. With a limited menu (and a few “secret” additions), the burgers are good, and are head and shoulders above anything you would get at your local McDonalds. Freshly ground beef patties, cooked to order and expertly covered in a slick of day glo yellow American cheese, accompaned with fresh garnishes.

After devouring my burger and animal fries, I proceeded down Hollywood boulevard, where I proceeded to be assaulted by street performers, scarily reminiscent of the stars that they were hanging around, and snapped away at some of the well known landmarks on the Hollywood strip. Next stops were a tour of Beverly Hills and Bel Air, prying into the homes of the rich and famous, with my personal highlight being the home of the "Fresh Prince of Bel Air". A stop on the world famous and ridiculously expensive Rodeo Drive, and I was back where I began, outside my hotel.

My evening stop had me pretty excited. When I put out my call for help, the word Mozza came back at me from numerous sources. The brainchild of Mario Batali and Nancy Silverton, the Mozza group are dishing excellent Italian dishes to the hungry hordes of LA every day from four different outlets. I was lucky enough to secure a table at the Osteria and met up with Charlie who runs the nearby Village Idiot (thanks to the Pubgeek for putting me in touch). It was great hanging out with yet another local, and getting a steer for what the city was about from one of its residents.

The food was definitely memorable. Steering away from mains and ordering a selection of appetizers and pastas instead, I was extremely happy with what we got. First up were "happy sticks", breadsticks slathered in truffle butter and wrapped in ham. A lot to be happy about, I am sure you can agree. Burrata served with speck, peas and beans was light and fresh, the mussels were incredibly addictive floating in a light tomato broth, but it was the crisped pigs trotter which left me a little speechless. The gelatinous trotter was perfectly encased in a light crumb and fried, giving way to an almost liquid center when eaten, with the light and perfectly balanced mustard sauce, and the salad balanced with shards of apple all coming together and singing in harmony.

The pastas were also exceptional. The egg yolk ravioli came wrapped in light al dente pasta, resting on a pillow of ricotta. The nutty brown butter sauce finished off a rich but enjoyable dish. The meaty ragu dish set your tastebuds tingling, although the depth of seasoning was verging on the overpowering. The last dish we had were a plate of gnudi, a pasta I had never had before, but the ricotta based gnocchi were pillowy light and smothered with garlic, butter and greens, each component making this even more delicious.

At this stage, desserts were definitely superfluous to requirements, but we ordered a few anyway, with my assorted ice cream filled cannoli varying from ok (espresso) to bloody great (caramel). Paying the bill (about £65 each with a few drinks), we headed on down Melrose to the Village Idiot where I partook in one last Junipero and tonic to round off a day where I had acted like a tourist, but eaten like a king.

Osteria Mozza - 6602 Melrose Ave, LA, CA 90038

Trully disappointing: Trullo, Islington

I was very excited about the prospect of dining at Trullo, a small but relatively new Italian restaurant located within spitting distance of Highbury and Islington tube. After all, it had been receiving rave reviews from all and sundry, and I hadn’t heard a bad thing about it. Impromptu visits were impossible as reservations were snapped up weeks in advance, and it’s receipt of a Michelin Bib Gourmand last week just accentuated it’s growing notoriety. I think what happened next is best described in an almost accurate transcript of a conversation I had with a friend about it:

THEM: How's you? Saw you didn't love Trullo?

ME: No, Trullo was so disappointing on many levels.

THEM: Why is that?

ME: One of us was late as she had gone to the wrong restaurant (d'oh)

THEM: ergh... how did she manage that?

ME: She went to Tinello, so not too hard an error to make :)

THEM: the other side of town

ME: Well, still on the Vic line, so not a total nightmare. We asked if there was any flexibility on the table time as they wanted it back by 9pm, so a 2 hour window, but they bluntly said not likely and maybe we could call her and read her the menu over the phone?

THEM: They asked what?

ME: Exactly. Anyway, he pressurised us into ordering, which we did, although it was almost impossible to get their attention when we wanted to order as we were sitting at the corner table. We ordered pretty much everything they had. There was no fish as the delivery was stuck on the motorway, but you know how I feel about fish

THEM: That I do.

ME: So, she arrived and all was good in the world (she ordered the rabbit fritti). Service got a bit better, all was looking good. So starters arrived, quail and kohlrabi salad, quail was nice, good aioli, kohlrabi was meh.

THEM: Aioli? That isn't Italian!

ME: Nope, but tasted good. The pastas arrived, penne with chilli and mascarpone lacked any kick but was nice enough. Beef ragu pappardelle was nice, very beefy, but to be fair, nothing special. But then....the duck ravioli though in sage butter sauce. They were amazing and easily the highlight of the meal

ME: So they cleared them away, and I didn't feel massively rushed at this stage, although we were conscious of the clock, so not exactly relaxed. Mains, as they so often are, were very disappointing. My 30 day sirloin was bland, overseasoned and weirdly chewy. The polenta tasted pretty disgusting in my eyes, with a huge amount of gorgonzola in it, so overpowering. Rabbit came as "fritti", but also came with a rabbit offal salad which was so salty it was inedible. I hate doing it, but we had to send the salad back. They were very good about it and brought out a fresh lot pretty quickly.

ME: They actually hurried us into ordering desserts, but brought us an extra tiramisu to make up for it. The blood orange panna cotta was not set enough and was starting to break up, and whilst ugly, tasted really very nice. Tiramisu would have benefited from being wetter (more coffee) but was on the whole very nice, and the only other thing that really rocked my world that night was the honeycomb and hazelnut ice cream. I have a soft spot for nut based ice creams anyway, but this was really excellent.

THEM: Would you go back?

ME: No, probably not

So that was that, a thoroughly underwhelming meal which came to a total of £45 each (with wine and service). I sat at the bus stop patiently waiting for my bus in the light drizzle and reflected on what had gone wrong. The first major mistake was for a restaurant with ambition, and charging on average in the high teens per main, to impose a two hour turn around with no flexibility. At these prices, I would expect to be able to enjoy my meal without having to check my watch every five minutes and feel hurried by the staff. It left more of a bad taste in my mouth than the over salted food. Which is sort of my second point. The pastas were excellent, but everything else was either disappointing, inedible or average. Not really what I had hoped nor expected. As I text messaged a friend about the meal, my phone kept auto correcting “savouries” to “saboteur”. I can’t help thinking that there was a little bit of truth in that.

Trullo - 300-302 St Paul’s Road, London N1 2LH

Murano, Mayfair: Bu-bye Signore Ramsay

Murano glass ceiling at the Bellagio in Vegas. I don't have any pics of the actual restaurant. oops.

One of my fondest “foodie” memories goes back to the days as a child, where I was sat in a neighbourhood Italian restaurant in Frankfurt, watching the incredibly capable pizzaiolo's slave away in front of a large open wood fired clay oven. As a seven year old, I was transfixed, watching them weave magic from dough and produce the finest pizzas I ever remember eating. Watching my father devour his spaghetti vongole and my mother coo over her scaloppine a la Milanese, my love of Italian food was born.

In my vain attempt at trying to replicate that feeling of happiness and content, I have begun searching out many of what are considered the “finer” Italian restaurants in London. These have taken in L’Anima, Theo Randall and Bocca di Lupo to name a few, some good, some bad, but none quite evoking the same memories (although Bocca came close). Murano, run by Angela Hartnett (of Welsh-Italian heritage), was next on the hit list and I expected great things from a restaurant wrestled off Gordon Ramsay.

As tempted as I was to indulge in the a la carte, or even the tasting options, wallet restricted me to the much more reasonably priced set lunch menu (a snip at £30). Whilst we perused the choices, a wooden board of charcuterie staved off the hunger pangs. The accompany bread basket was filled with a few delights including a superb focaccia (a good standard bearer for any Italian restaurant), and an amuse of arancini balls were also excellent.

My starter of wood pigeon and coca beans was intriguing but tasty. I can’t say I had ever eaten coca beans but the smoky flavour sat well alongside my generous breasts of wood pigeon. The cubes of pancetta and parsnip puree added saltiness and sweetness and the whole was pretty good, although would have benefited from a few less beans.

My main of venison with parsnip and winter veg, was in a nutshell, pretty damn sexy. The tender slices of loin were cooked perfectly, with a caramelised nugget of meat on the side, absolutely bursting with flavour, and the veg was, well, veg. But very well cooked veg at that.

The meal was going rather swimmingly. Mains had been polished off and everyone seemed pleased (this may have been due to the wine and glass of champagne we had to start, I’m not ruling this out). For me, the real party pleaser came in the form of the palate cleanser, a symphony of mini ice creams and sorbets placed on a frozen glass stand. Each one burst with flavour and even if some didn’t exactly hit the spot (basil, I’m, looking at you), it was a nice way to lead us into the desserts.

Even though my two companions both opted for the cheese cart, where they were adorned with pretty much as much cheese as they desired from a vast selection, my sweet tooth prevailed and I opted for the lemon cream and foam, with a hazelnut dacquoise and mint. I think the best way to describe this would be a citrus explosion, with the lemon cream smooth and tart, and the foam slightly sweet. The slices of grapefruit added a slightly sour juice explosion where all the flavours just mingled in your mouth. I’m not sure how there was a “dacquoise” involved, but the nuggets of biscuit added a nice change in gear of texture.

So in summation, I had a pretty damn enjoyable time. Everything we had eaten was expertly cooked, and care and consideration had been taken when considering balancing flavours and textures without being overly complicated. The service was perfect, without being too obtrusive and were always there to answer a question, take a wine order or pick up your napkin, all the travails you may actually encounter within a restaurant. I hadn’t felt like I had missed out by being restricted to the lunch menu, but peering over the fence into the garden of the tasting menu revealed a myriad of other delights. I will be back in 2011, and next time, my wallet will be prepared.

Murano - 20 Queen Street W1J 5PP

Marco Torri vs Jane Hornby: The Carbonara cook off (with a recipe)

A couple of weeks ago, I was having a chat with a friend and one of the hardest questions a food lover will ever have to answer was asked. "If you had to eat the food from one country for the rest of your life, where would it be?” I paused for a little while, but in truth, I knew the answer straight away. Not because it was an easy answer, but because I had thought about the answer to this question on many occasions, and on every occasion, the answer would be Italian. Surprising maybe, being that I am Chinese, but nothing excites me more than the variety and produce from "The Boot".

When the offer to take part in a Carbonara taste off arrived in my inbox, I jumped at the chance. In one corner, we have Marco Torri, head chef at Semplice and proud owner of a Michelin Star. In the other, we had Jane Hornby cook, and author of "What to Cook and How to Cook It", a brand new cook book, packed with straightforward recipes all beautifully visualised. This was going to be an interesting contest.

After some chat with both "contestants" and keeping our hunger at bay with focaccia, olive oil and cured meats, the chefs headed off into the kitchen to prepare their dishes. When they both arrived, you could see that they were both very different.

The first one we were presented with was much wetter with a heady aroma. The sauce was deeply savoury packed with a good strong cheesy punch, not of parmesan, but of Pecorino, we all decided. A smoked ham perhaps? Definitely a few ladles of pasta stock into the sauce, a chefs secret I once saw on the telly.

The second was a lot less saucy and much milder in overall flavour. The sauce was definitely thicker and the ham used was much milder, without as smoky a hit, definitely less pepper. I actually preferred this one; it wasn't as much an assault on your senses, but a comforting bowl of pasta.

It turns out the second one belonged to Jane, but both were very enjoyable and the fact that both troughs were emptied of their contents was all the chefs needed to know. We had a leaf through Jane's book and the recipe was there in all its glory, well illustrated and simple to follow. I have attached Jane's recipe at the bottom of this post so have a go yourself, and I would definitely recommend getting hold of a copy of "What to Cook and How to Cook it". You won't regret it.

*Thanks to Marco Torri and Semplice Trattoria for hosting the event*

Spaghetti Carbonara

Preparation time: 10 minutes

Cooking time: 10 –12 minutes

Serves 2 (easily doubled)

Just six ingredients come together to create something quick and indulgent. For an extra touch of luxury add a dash of cream – just two tablespoons or so – to the Parmesan and eggs before mixing with the pasta.

-----------------------------

1 tsp flaky sea salt

200 g (7 oz) spaghetti

1 clove garlic

4 rashers smoked dry-cured streaky

bacon, or 100 g (3½ oz) smoked

bacon lardons or pancetta cubes

1 tbsp mild olive oil

40 g (1½ oz) Parmesan cheese

3 medium eggs

salt and pepper

-----------------------------

1

Put a large pan of water over a high heat and bring it to the boil. Add the salt, then add the spaghetti and bring back to the boil. Stir once, turn the heat down a little, and boil for 10 minutes, or until the pasta is just tender.

2

While the pasta cooks, start the sauce. Squash the whole garlic clove without peeling it. You can do this by simply bashing it with the bottom of a pan. Chop the bacon into small pieces, if using. Heat a large frying pan over a medium heat, then add the oil. After 30 seconds, add the chopped bacon or lardons and the garlic. Fry the bacon and garlic for 8–10 minutes, or until the bacon is golden and crisp and the fat has run out. Discard the garlic and take the pan off the heat.

3

While the bacon cooks, finely grate the Parmesan cheese and beat the eggs in a jug with a fork. Mix half of the Parmesan into the eggs. Season with salt and pepper.

4

When the pasta is just tender, reserve a cup of its cooking water, then drain it in a colander.

Tip the pasta into the bacon pan, add 2 tablespoons of the reserved cooking water, then pour over the egg and cheese mixture. Toss everything together quickly (tongs are useful here), so that the egg mixture, bacon and its juices coat the pasta. The residual heat in the pan and the pasta will be enough to just cook the eggs to a creamy sauce within about 1 minute.

5

Scoop the pasta into warmed serving bowls, then sprinkle with the rest of the cheese and a little black pepper, and serve immediately.

Valentina, Putney: Eating with a vegetarian, take 2

My name is EuWen and I am friends with a vegetarian. It started 13 years ago when we were both fun-loving, meat-eating individuals. The signs were there from the outset when she refused to eat any seafood of any sort, let alone go near it. I remember the day I took her to the London Aquarium and spent an hour by the manta ray pool, convincing her to touch one (I failed). Over the years, I saw her descent into Vegetarianism as she started to shun meaty goodness in favour of al dente vegetables. Murmurs of "I just don't feel like it" turned into "I just don't want it", and after a long battle, she finally announced about five years ago that we had lost her to vegetarianism.

I am joking of course. For all the haters, I do realise that being a vegetarian isn't an affliction, but it does make it slightly tricky when you want to go out. In my eyes, it's actually harder than having a nut allergy in some places as the choices are so limited and with staunch vegetarians such as my friend, actually put off by the taste and texture of meat, where the slightest whiff of meat stock will put her off, not all dishes are as well labelled to contain meat products. When her mother came down to visit my family, choosing a place on the hoof was never going to be an easy task, but I settled on Valentina in Putney, a nice little Italian deli with a restaurant upstairs and handy for all parties to get to (accept me, ironically).

Personally, I thought the food was pretty decent. For starters, we ordered a plate of meats from the deli (antipasto della casa), which arrived as a selection of meats, a smidgen of provolone, an assortment of pickled veg, all topped off with a mozzarella ball and a cerignola olive. Every part of this was absolutely wonderful, and I only wish that there were more olives and mozzarella balls as these were truly superb.

An accompanying fritto misto was also excellent. Pieces of tiger prawn, calamari, red mullet and courgette battered and deep fried to a crisp. Each piece was light and as grease free as you could hope. Personally, I didn't see any of the mullet, but that wasn't to say there wasn't any. My father would probably have hoovered that up and I was solely focused on the excellent squid.

My main of scallopina al funghi was decent enough, with strips of veal cooked together with mushrooms, asparagus and white wine. Although under seasoned for my palate, and slightly overcooked, I still actually enjoyed it. The whole dish was woken up with a few more pinches of salt and pepper and I devoured it all without a scrap left.

Other mains of quail and spaghetti vongole met equal nods of agreement, whilst the special of squid ink pasta with mixed seafood received rave reviews. The long black strands of pasta were packed with that subtle taste of the sea that only squid ink seems to impart and the generous portions of seafood kept its recipient very happy.

Unfortunately, the vegetarian in our group didn't fare as well. Her original request for penne a la Napoletana to be served with gnocchi instead was met with nods and "of course", arrived actually just as the original gnocchi spacca Napoli, complete with a 'braciola' of rolled beef, not exactly ideal for a vegetarian. This went straight back and returned with the gnocchi steeped in a seeming blend of tinned tomatoes and cream, not appetising, and unfortunately not what my friend had ordered. This lay untouched but for a few mouthfuls (one from her, and one from me), and she went home hungry and looking for food.

My overall impression of Valentina was pretty good. I enjoyed the food and the service wasn't that bad either. Obviously the mix up of the vegetarian dishes and the overall lack of (V)'s on the menu meant that this probably wasn't the best choice for a vegetarian, but we all still managed to have a good night nattering and catching up with each other. The starters were very good, and the mains weren't too bad either, and with a bill of £90 for 5, it came to a very acceptable bill for the evening. Not sure if I could ever make the schlep over to Putney to eat there again, but you're ever in the area, this is a good choice for some decent Italian fare. Just don't bring a vegetarian.

Valentina - 75 Upper Richmond Road, Putney, SW15 2SR

Bocca di Lupo: From the mouth of the wolf, straight to my belly

After a long hard day at work, all I yearned for was a cold gin and tonic and some friendly banter. I couldn’t face the realisation that had I gone home, all I would have ended up doing is watch crap tv and order a takeaway. A few messages later, and the steak eating fiend who is @baconchop decided to join me for said beverage. A few beers, some chat, then home. Well, that was the plan anyway.

Inevitably after a few drinks, our thoughts started to wander to our rumbling bellies and food became a necessity. There may be a thousand places to eat in Soho, but when you are pushed for a decision, you end up wandering the streets listlessly, which is exactly the scenario we found ourselves in. I am not entirely sure how we found our way to Archer street, divine inspiration perhaps, but we stood outside Bocca di Lupo hoping they could squeeze us in. Located opposite its sister gelateria (Gelupo, see what they did there?) it peddles regional Italian food. Not particularly descriptive, but the smells emanating from the open kitchen were enough to convince us that this was definitely the right decision.

It was packed but as it was fairly late (9pm’ish) people had started to finish and leave and a few spaces began to appear, there was hope. The exceptional front of house (seriously lovely) told us to hold fire and she would seat us. Even the addition of Adam’s other half and friend didn’t throw her and a few minutes later, we were perched at the bar with our drinks in tow and a glorious view of the action to boot. As lovely as the main dining room looks, a seat at the bar provides entertainment, banter and beautiful aromas, and fuelled with wine and cocktails, we appeared to have lost the best part of our decision making function. We chose a few things, and left a few choices upto our waitress, and sat back to watch the show begin.

We watched the chefs throw things in the oil, assemble things on plates and chuck stuff on the grill intently, salivating and hoping that one of the delicious looking dishes was ours. The first things that arrived were a few morsels of fried goodness. Suppli (Roman arancini, of sorts) bocconcini (fried mozzarella balls) and stuffed olives (stuffed with minced pork and veal, so damn good) were lightly fried and redundant of grease.

Next was a simple salad of Shaved radish, celeriac & pecorino, garnished with pomegranates & truffle oil. This wasn’t something that either Adam or myself were going to order, but our delightful waitress (I will be harping on about the service we had on the night, it was amongst the best and most personable I have ever had in any restaurant) insisted on it and I am really glad she did. I was incredibly surprised by the combination of flavours, the rich earthy truffles, the crunch from the celeriac, the peppery radish and the bursts of sweetness from the pomegranates. Stunning flavours, and each recognisable.

The first round of dishes were rounded off with some of the lightest and most delicate calamari I have ever tasted, lightly floured, quickly dipped in boiling oil and produced fresh and greaseless. A squeeze of lemon and we were ready to go.

The pasta and risotto dishes were next. The finferli and asiago risotto was probably the low point of our meal. Packed with mushrooms, you can hardly accuse them of being stingy, but compared to everything else I ate, this was bland and a bit boring. The pork and veal agnolotti were exactly the opposite. Tiny, delicate little pasta parcels packed with flavour in a light sage and butter sauce. This dish totally blew my mind, and I have been hankering for a return visit just to try these again. A most wonderful end to our savouries.

We had eaten a huge amount for just two people, but having visited Gelupo across the road, there was no way I could leave without dessert. Managing to convince my dining companion that a chocolate spread made of mostly pigs blood was a good idea (the sanguinaccio was described to us as a funky nutella, must be what sold it), I opted for a somewhat safer option of an ice cream "surprise". A chocolate shell encasing two surprise flavours of ice cream. The first was chestnut, and being a big fan of nut based ice creams, I was very pleased. The name of the second escapes me, but was packed with candied fruit and tasted of Christmas.

This was one of the most enjoyable meals I have had in London, bar none. The food was exquisite, with surprising flavour combinations sitting side by side with simple but clean flavours. The service was stunning and worth visiting for the hospitality of the staff alone. There is still so much on the menu I am desperate to try, yet so many things I have already tried that I desperately want to order again. Yes, the meal was expensive, with it coming to about £60 a head with a few drinks, but when the experience leaves me wondering when my next visit is going to be, there are absolutely no complaints. I am already salivating at the mere thought of it.

Bocca di Lupo - 12 Archer Street, W1D 7BB