The speedy supper goes Italian with a classic Pesto alla Trapanese…

Late last year I was fortunate enough to attend a cooking demonstration by the rather lovely chef & food writer Rachel Roddy at the brilliant Divertimenti Cooking School on Brompton Road in London.

Among several evocative dishes cooked by Rachel, all of which transported me to sunnier Italian climes, one stood out as being an arguably perfect plate of pasta. So delicious was it that it’s been recreated in my own Islington-rather-than-Italy kitchen with great success – I feel it’s ok to modestly give it that label since bowls were left empty at the end of dinner so no further evidence needed, si? Grazi. Read More

Pastaio; a jewel in London’s pasta-obsessed restaurant crown…

Stevie Parle’s Clerkenwell based Palatino was responsible for one of my finest 2017 date night dinners. The venue perfectly straddled the cosy-stylish divide, the service was top notch and the food was flat-out fantastic. Carbs are taken as seriously as Trump in my house and their Gnocchi alla Romana is the stuff of dreams though it is, of course, quelle horreur for Atkins devotees.


Opening a new, very centrally located place is something that’s always going to be accompanied by a whole new set of sky-high expectations as well as a new crowd of diners, for whilst EC1 is a barely-worth-putting-outdoor-shoes-on length stroll from my North London home, it’s considered something of a trek by anyone living elsewhere on the capital’s compass. This just-off Carnaby Street location is moments from theatres, cinemas & flagship stores so understand that you may well spot an M&M’s World bag or a Hamley’s survivor inside – you’ll recognise them by the look of shell-shock on their faces.


Like a similarly named, no-reservations, South London counterpart, Pastaio specialises in fresh pasta and, apparently, drawing the crowds. During its recent soft launch, my attempt to feast on the cheap was rebuffed by a 2 hour wait, something my at-the-time growling stomach made quite clear was not going to happen. Returning a week later for a Thursday night, girl date supper we were seated immediately and the restaurant was quiet enough in the no man’s land time period that falls between finishing work & beginning to dine for us to fall a little bit in love with the place.  Long communal tables in beautiful flecked stone, an open plan kitchen constantly blurred behind puffy clouds of steam and a warm, mellow glow from the sort of lighting that makes everyone look that little bit more attractive. Read More

Adoring the start of a new Roman empire at Palatino…

Palatino is the kind of place you want to make your local. You wanna duck in there on a cold wintry night, be greeted warmly, asked how you are and shown to your regular seat at the bar from where you can enjoy an unobtrusive view of the restaurant, a plate of gnocchi alla Romana & a glass of sparkling Moscatel that find their way to you without even having to ask…or at least, this is what I want. This is my Italian dinner daydream, heavily laden with the fragrance of sage and the flavours of Rome.

Going there for dinner on the recent soft launch was one of the loveliest dining experiences I’ve had in a while. It’s not just that the food is fabulous – which it is – or that the décor is gorgeous – which it is – or that the staff are effervescent about the menu – which they are. It’s that it’s all of those things and it’s all of those things done with a lovely, elegant, quiet, assured, timeless style that make it frankly brilliant.

It’s a barn of a building that mixes long, wooden, communal tables with mustard yellow booths and tall tables for two and it’s a blessed relief to see beautifully stylish fixtures that don’t include bare filament lightbulbs & crumbly brick walls…#canwemoveonfromthesenowplease?

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The menu here is a tricky beast to tame because you’re going to want to order everything on it. Seriously. Consider that due warning. Two of us devoured two starters, two pastas, two meat courses and a shared dessert (a 60-40 split to me naturally) before finishing off our dessert wine and rolling ourselves companionably out of the door. The fried sage with apple & honey vinegar is an absolute treat. Fact. Crispy, light and really rather ridiculously moreish, this was one of my favourite dishes of the night. Some might scoff at the idea of paying for the privilege of eating battered foliage…let them. I couldn’t give a flying fig because that just means there’s more for me and you and all the people who know that there’s more to the starter section of a menu – and more to frying – than chicken wings & onion rings.

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A n accompanying salt cod crudo with blood orange and olive oil arrived fresh & light enough to have just strolled out of the ocean but it was those brittle leaves that kept us dipping back for more.

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Bombolotti ragu Marcella introduced me to the sweetest baby pasta I’ve ever cooed over before wolfing down, one greedy, meaty spoonful at a time while that aforementioned dream dish of gnocchi alla Romana came slick with brown butter and has haunted my every waking moment since this visit. Honestly, if I’ve spoken to you over the past fortnight and not implored you to go there and try it, I’ll be amazed because I feel like I’ve evangelized about it to anyone who’s crossed my path. Go there. Try it. Charred on the outside and oozing like fudgy, treacly velvet on the inside, it has forever changed what gnocchi means to me. Tiny, fork-tined potato pebbles be gone.

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Chicken, pancetta & pistachio meatballs on a bed of polenta were light & savoury – I loved the added texture & flavour from the nuts – and Onglet steak was tender, juicy, cheekily pink and painted with sunset hued salsa rossa piccante.

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This is the food of Italy that Italians would want to eat; it is not the food of Italy for those who consider a deep dish, stuffed crust, pineapple speckled pizza to be an accurate representative of the country’s cuisine. I’m not saying you can’t enjoy both at the right time – well actually that’s exactly what I’m saying about the pineapple, diplomacy be damned – but you need to know what you’re gonna get and what you’re flipping well not gonna get here.

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I foresee myself swinging past one day for a slice of quince, almond & rosemary tart for breakfast because I’m a grown up and that’s what we do but dessert on this occasion was chocolate & sour cherry tartuffi ice-cream with whipped cream. Dark, sweet, creamy, pretty as a picture and every bit as lick-the-plate-clean delicious as you’d expect something made up of those ingredients to be, it was like the humble choc ice had finally – splendidly – come of age.

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Although you may deduce from the casual love letter that has poured forth here that I quite liked the menu, it’s worth noting that the service is every bit as excellent as the food. Arriving half an hour early because I’d had a senior moment and actually forgotten what time I’d booked – seriously, I think I need to up my cod liver oil intake and recharge the old grey matter as a matter of urgency – wasn’t an issue and we were seated immediately & graciously whilst a lost glass of dessert wine was apologised for and replaced with two tasters that were even nicer. You’re made to feel as though the team here are so glad you’ve come to have dinner with them, something that a lot of other London restaurants could do with reminding of now and again.

When I mentioned this place to a colleague on the hunt for somewhere to take his wife, he said that he never really considered Italian food for an evening out and there are enough places in the capital that have disgraced the name of all that is deliciously Italian for me to understand why this might be but I’ll say to you what I said to him; this place is different. It’s really good, it’s worth getting over those galling memories of bad Italian food done poorly for and y’know what? I’ll shout you dinner at the Hut if you disagree…dinner for one mind you. I’ll be at the Palatino bar eating all that gnocchi and enjoying my local.