QUINTESSENTIALLY | Insider | Food & Drink

The 29th of April 2011, is the day Prince William will break a thousand hearts as he marries his soon-to-be princess Miss Catherine Middleton. Wherever you are in the world there is no escaping the Royal Wedding, so instead of booking a one way flight to Necker Island, why not try out one of the fantastically royal treats we have found for your enjoyment. One is amused…

A Right Royal Treat
A fanfare selection of royally inspired treats complete with bejewelled his ‘n’ hers crowns, royal carriage, delicate wedding cake, and even a miniature Westminster Abbey – all packaged in a beautiful commemorative tin.
The Biscuiteers limited-edition Royal Wedding tin contains 16 biscuits and is priced at GBP38.50.
www.biscuiteers.com

A Country Affair
Why not escape the madness of London, and indulge your Royal Wedding obsession at Sanctum on the Green in the heart of rural Berkshire. Watch William and Kate walk down the aisle live on the big screen, take an afternoon dip in the pool, sip Pimms at the rustic vintage style bar and delight in the menu created by Michelin star chef John Burton-Race.
Room rates from GBP120
www.sanctumonthegreen.com

A Little Thank You
Thanks to the upcoming Royal nuptials, the humble British public have an extra day off from the office. So what better way to show your appreciation for the happy couple than with one of the commemorative ‘Thanks For The Free Day Off’ plates from John Lewis.
Priced at GBP12
www.johnlewis.com

The Crown Jewels
Indulge your taste buds and your royalist passion with the ‘Royal Bejeweled Afternoon Tea’ at Flemings Hotel in Mayfair. Sip a Queen Bee Champagne Cocktail a la Miss Middleton, and sample the glittering Victoria sponge, rose and honey Madeline’s and jeweled lavender cupcakes. Fit for a princess indeed.
The Royal Bejeweled Afternoon Tea is available at GBP32.50 per person
www.flemings-mayfair.co.uk

A Regal Feast
You are cordially invited to a Royal gala dinner, courtesy of Quaglino’s. A sumptuous 3 course dinner, a live swing band and a £10 donation to the happy couple’s Charitable Gift Fund make this a no brainer: celebrate in style with some British favourites – we’re talking smoked salmon, crab, asparagus and a delightful sounding lemon tart – and give Wills and Kate your own little wedding gift.
GBP60 pp, including a GBP10 donation to William and Kate’s Charitable Gift Fund.
www.quaglinos-restaurant.co.uk

‘It all started with a cup of tea’
Nothing screams British more than a good old cup of tea; these little beauties from Liberty of London are the perfect addition to any Royal Wedding breakfast. It’s not everyday that you can have Wills and Kate reclining in your cup, casually draping their arms over the rim and brewing you up a treat.
Liberty of London, GBP4.95
www.liberty.co.uk

I Heart Wills & Kate
Anya ‘I’m not a plastic bag’ Hindmarch may well have outdone herself with her Royal Wedding Kit. A special William and Kate Union Jack flag (to wave like mad), a pocket of red white and blue confetti (heart shaped to shower them with your love) and a Wills & Kate crest tattoo (just to confirm your devotion) all come lovingly packed into a specially designed Anya Hindmarch tote.
Anya Hindmarch, GBP30
www.anyahindmarch.com

Camp Royale
London’s biggest sleepover with a distinctly royal theme is coming to Clapham Common this weekend. Join fellow Wills & Kate fans at Camp Royale, for 3 days of camping and garden party delights fit for a King. There are giant screens to watch the wedding itself, and a village fete vibe with coconut shies and wet sponges, face-painting and balloon modelers. Acrobats, a silent disco and wedding reception tunes will keep the party going long into the evening.
Weekend camping tickets are priced at GBP75
www.camproyale.co.uk

Royalty Al Fresco
Who needs an invite to the palace when you can enjoy a veritable feast straight from a Fortnum’s wicker picnic basket? Start with some beef carpaccio and horseradish, or tuck into dressed lobster and garden salad. A slab of Cropwell Bishop Stilton might take your fancy – especially with walnut wafers – while a red fruit tart and Fortnum’s finest champagne truffles will make it the picnic to end all picnics, washed down smoothly with a bottle of Touraine Sauvignon.
Fortnum & Mason, GBP200,
www.fortnumandmason.com

Getting decent, authentic Spanish cuisine in London today is less of an uphill struggle than it was a decade ago, but it still isn’t an easy task. For every genuine establishment that reminds the weary and hungry of the best of Madrid or Barcelona, there is a cynical chain that’s about as ‘authentic’ as Manuel from FawltyTowers, or some backstreet dive that single-handedly justifies all your grandmother’s complaints about food from ‘over there’ being greasy, fatty and tasteless. To say nothing of offering questionable standards of hygiene.

Thankfully, Cambio de Tercio in Chelsea offers an altogether different and more pleasingly upmarket experience. Regularly acclaimed as serving some of the finest cuisine in the capital, it is part of an operation that includes a newly opened sherry and ham bar, Capote y Toros, next door and a tapas bar, Tendido Cero, just adjacent. Each will satisfy your craving for authentic food, at sensible and non-astronomic prices. However, if you’re after the full deluxe experience, then Cambio, the grand kahuna, is the one to head to.

Of course, if you’re still after tapas, there is an excellent selection on offer here, from quite exquisite Serrano ham croquettes with thyme and tomato sauce (the flavour of which are something else, and miles more interesting than the usual bland, cheesy non-starters) to char-grilled octopus, which has a rich, meaty taste unlike the drably fishy slitherer that this can often end up tasting like. The chef’s signature tapas are also worth trying, with our favourite being the deconstructed Spanish chorizo omelette, as influenced by Ferran Adria’s El Bulli.

The brave are advised to move onto the main courses afterwards and enjoy the chef’s culinary pyrotechnics. Basque-style monkfish stew is hearty, filling fare, elevated from workmanlike to splendid because of the unusual touch of adding vanilla and lentils to it. The mighty ox tail caramelised in red wine is enough to send even the most staunch vegetarian back to meat, if only for an evening, and a shotgun marriage of salt cod and braised pig’s head is beguilingly unusual enough to attract many. Desserts are a mix of the comfort food (Spanish bread and butter pudding) with the more unusual; gin and tonic ‘on a plate’ wouldn’t be out of place in many a more formal Michelin-starred establishment. But the vibe here is casual and friendly, helped in no small part by the eclectic, Spanish wine list which offers an array of vintages and vineyards that you would be hard pressed to find anywhere else outside Spain. As you would expect, sherries and cavas are well represented as well.

When you emerge from your repast here, perhaps somewhat sated but undeniably happy and impressed, the kindest thing to do would be to head straight home and book a flight to Spain, so that you can continue a culinary odyssey of this calibre. The only disappointment might end up being that what you eat there might not be as good as this transplanted slice of the plains.

163 Old Brompton Road, London SW5. www.cambiodetercio.co.uk

The hype behind the opening of Heston Blumenthal’s first London restaurant, Dinner, has been deafening. Probably the most anticipated launch since Gordon Ramsay at Claridges, it has excited people far beyond the foodie world. Giles Coren’s review in The Times not only declared it ‘the best new restaurant in the world’, but was run as a news story, such was its importance thought to be. Virtually every critic has visited, and pronounced it a triumph. At the time of writing, it is fully booked until the end of May, thanks to its (admirable) refusal to turn tables. Several dishes on the menu have already become iconic. But, underneath all the hoo-ha and palaver, how does it work as a restaurant?

The good news is that Blumenthal’s venture is a resounding success, an absolute pleasure to visit. If you were expecting a metropolitan spin-off of The Fat Duck, you’re going to be disappointed. Although there are welcome touches of experimentation, the fireworks are saved for the kitchen. Blumenthal and his head chef Ashley Palmer-Watts have produced a relatively short but focused a la carte menu which takes inspiration from traditional English cooking, with pleasingly unusual results. Therefore the unappetisingly named ‘Rice and Flesh’ turns out to be an exquisitely conceived risotto with calf’s tail, saffron and red wine, maintaining just the right balance between lightness and full flavour. Apparently this dish dates from the 14^th century; clearly the medieval Britons understood the basics of fine dining even then.  One wonders how they managed to forget it for the next six centuries if so.

I started with what’s probably already the most famous dish, the so-called ‘meat fruit’. It’s a beautifully silky and tender chicken liver parfait (with, one supposes, a touch of foie gras) that gets its name by being presented as if it were a mandarin, coming in an orange shell. The effect is both comically amusing, but absolutely delicious, with toasted sour dough a hugely effective compliment to it. On a future visit I intend to have the scallops with cucumber ketchup, which sounds equally delicious.

The bar had been raised very high, but I then had what was probably the best pork chop I’d ever eaten, served simply with sauce Robert and lettuce. It’s hard to describe the flavour but apparently Heston has described the Black Foot pork that he uses as the porcine equivalent of Kobe beef, and it has the same sumptuous, full and rich flavour, with the sauce complimenting it beautifully. A glass of Rioja went down exceptionally well and brought out the taste exquisitely. Dessert was the equally divine ‘tipsy cake’, a kind of cross between doughnut and brioche, served with roasted pineapple. The service throughout was genuinely friendly and engaged; as with all restaurants that are genuinely proud of their food and atmosphere, the staff at Dinner know that they’re onto a winner. In fact if I had to search for something to criticise – and that scraping sound is the bottom of the barrel being investigated – the choice of bread isn’t wildly inspiring, being wholemeal sourdough. But given how exquisite everything else is, this really is nitpicking.

So, Dinner is a triumph, all things considered. A triumph for Heston Blumenthal, who has reinforced his claim as the most interesting chef working in Britain today. A triumph for the Mandarin Oriental, who have, with this and Bar Boulud, a good claim to have the best food offerings of any of London’s leading hotels. And, most importantly, a triumph for the customers, who, paying prices that easily stand comparison to other Knightsbridge restaurants, are being served delicious and innovative food that will make this one of the most memorable meals that you’ll ever savour every morsel of.

66 Knightsbridge, SW1X. www.dinnerbyheston.com

Sitting quietly three quarters of the way down Charlotte Street, amid the chain restaurants that swarm over Fitzrovia, Mennula is more than easily missable. The pistachio coloured awning and French windows that give Mennula the appearance of an Italian ice-cream café, that would spill on to a buzzy Florentine street on a summer’s evening, is nonchalantly passed in a matter of steps by those not in the know.

So too, inside the décor is simple and understated; aubergine purple contrasts against white walls and tablecloths as slick as the Italian welcome. My best friend and I are swept to our table – a booth cleverly making the most of the limited space here – our coats disappear, and a welcome flute of Sicilian Prosecco is fizzing across my palate. We are nibbling at olives, bite-sized squares of focaccia and signature toasted almonds – the namesake of the restaurant – when we find time between the unfinished sentences of our girly babble.

Head Chef, owner and Sicilian native Santino Busciglio evidently looks to strong roots for his dishes. Popping up from the basement kitchen to survey his filling restaurant and greet his guests, Santino shares his recommendations for the evening’s menu. He tells of how his ‘nonna’ taught him to bake and relates an afternoon telephone call to his sister in Sicily, who was creating a supper from broad beans and artichokes – it is no coincidence that these are also the star of this evening’s menu.

Before he’s barely left our tableside, a slate of baby artichokes in a Parmesan and mint tempura has been recommended, sent from the kitchen and gulped down, too good to resist for long. Busciglio is a strong believer in the power of fresh ingredients, championing British produce and following the Italian seasons where he can, and it shows.

After an unusual selection of breads – some stuffed with capers, other slices sweetened with raisins – my gnocchi with broad beans, rocket and Sicilian pecorino arrives. I’m trusting Santino here, charmed by his unexpected Bolton twang (he grew up a Lancashire lad) and the foodie knowledge and authority carried on the lapels of his chef whites.

The gnocchi is light, and the taste as vibrant as the green of the broad bean puree, while a tartar of beef, topped with a perfectly poached quail egg and ‘bianchetto’ truffle, draws my gaze across the table – best friends we may be, but this is no dish of which she’s ready to miss a scrap.

My main course of pan-fried fillet of cod is delicately perched on tender purple sprouting broccoli and accompanied by soft clams, just the right side of sea-salty. Opposite, English veal sweetbreads don’t last long. I was tempted by nearly every dish on the menu; eight ‘Secondi di pesce e carne’ options each offered their own piece of Italy – to go with Santino’s picks was the only option to save agonising choices.

A trio of gently warmed ‘Sfinci’ – Sicilian doughnuts – with white truffle honey and black winter truffle plays to my sweetest of tooths for dessert, the unmistakable scent of truffle pairing delicately with these sugared delights and I manage to sneak a spoonful of the most delicate Tiramisu, encased in it is own crisp shell and too tempting to resist.

Mennula’s magic comes from the pride that it takes in its Italian heritage, delivered with understated charm. The service is attentive, the restaurant simple, letting the food shine, just as Santino intended. The menu is printed with today’s date; it is as fresh off the press as the dishes it heralds. While there may not be much of a draw from outside, once Mennula has you in it’s claws, it will be sure hard to release the grip – not least if you make the mistake of taking the menu home and leaving it on the kitchen counter to tease you at every opportunity.

www.mennula.com

10 Charlotte Street, London, W1 2LT

When my mother announced that she hadn’t set foot inside the hallowed halls of Fenwick at Bond Street since her own mother took her there for the first time at the age of 21, I knew that it would be the perfect location for combining a post-birthday celebration with some pre-Mothering Sunday indulgence. Though the tables had twisted ever so slightly, and I was leading the way, bringing my mum here rather than the other way around, the sentiment added poignancy to my own first steps in this Mayfair stalwart.

A 3.30 pm reservation for Afternoon Tea at the 2^nd floor Bond & Brook restaurant, masterminded by longstanding Evening Standard restaurant critic Fay Maschler, came at the perfect hour; early enough that I wasn’t screaming with hunger and poised to demolish everything in sight, yet just late enough that my thoughts were wandering to my stomach and I could be persuaded to abandon my magpie tendencies, cooing over shiny shoes on the first floor.

All white walls, white tables and egg chairs, Bond & Brook verges on the outer space; a never-ending capsule as reflections bounce around from the zigzag mirrors lining one wall, engaging in constant chatter with the bespoke and curvaceous pewter bar at the helm of this space machine. Low slung shelving lined with coffee table fashion titles and giant bottles of Chanel No.5 – combined with my first sip of bubbling champagne – bring the restaurant stylishly back to earth as our tea arrives.

As my mum and I pour our first cups of Earl Grey and a Fruits of the Forest blend respectively, I spot late lunches, light snacks and cocktails winging their way to neighbouring tables; breakfast rolls into lunch, tea and dinner with ease, adding to the charm of the impeccable service and sitting just the right side of laissez-faire.

We tuck into finger sandwiches, lightly filled with cream cheese and cucumber, roast beef, smoked salmon and egg and cress; old favourites are a gentle reminder of the very British institution in which we sit. Creeping up the cake-stand, perfectly sized scones with a hint of lemon zest are as light as the spring sunshine that floods our table – a glut of clotted cream and sweet strawberry jam finish the package with aplomb.

‘Couture Cakes’ we were promised by the menu, Couture Cakes we have; perched on the top level, these have been teasing me since they arrived. Glitter topped fondant fancies toy with my inner magpie once more, while miniature squares of millionaire’s shortbread speak of richness and delight – there must be an explanation for their tiny size, this is confirmed by the strongest chocolate, melting caramel and crumbling shortbread. Crisp pastry houses crème anglaise and plump blueberries, while my final treat is dedicated to the most decadent of chocolate macaroons, crisp on the outside with my favourite chocolate-brownie-softness in the centre.

As we leave contently, making the transition from restaurant to department store to the Bond Street boutiques that vie for my purse, I realise that Bond & Brook is both intrinsically fashionable and refreshingly affordable – the perfect blend that will draw me back time and again.

Bond & Brook, Fenwick, 63 New Bond Street, London, W1A 3BS

www.rhubarb.net

Covent Garden is, surprisingly, a bit short on the kind of decent yet unpretentious places that one can pop into pre or post theatre or opera to get a meal that’s not going to break the bank but offers something altogether different to your usual chain experience. Thus, the advent of the Opera Tavern, from the people behind the much-acclaimed Salt Yard and Dehesa, was welcomed with open arms by locals and visitors alike. As with its two predecessors, it offers high-quality Spanish fare in a buzzy, fun atmosphere at sensible and affordable prices.

The difference is that, if you’re the kind of person who groans at the concept of a restaurant where the vibe is sangria and ‘Hola!’, then this is going to be an extremely pleasant relief, offering the kind of nuanced cool that NY has been doing brilliantly for years but has caught on much less here than it should have done. Downstairs is a no-reservations tapas bar, whereas upstairs is a (slightly) more formal restaurant, which takes bookings. Both were heaving on a recent Friday night visit.

The copious menu offers a range of, essentially, upmarket bar snacks and tapas-sized versions of main courses. Of the former, the not particularly Spanish Scotch eggs are a highlight, with rich, flavoursome pork complemented beautifully by the perfectly cooked egg. This is easily comparable to my two favourite Scotch eggs in London, at Highgate’s Bull and Last and from the excellent butcher The Ginger Pig. Another highlight is a moreish miniature burger made up of Iberico pork and foie gras. A decadent delight, its small form belies the fabulous, melt-in-mouth taste that this offers. My companion, a girl not unacquainted with the finer things in life, promptly pronounced this her favourite dish – Ever.

Sound though this particular value judgement may or may not prove to be, the slightly larger plates offered a riot of taste and flavor. Crispy squid and sea purslane with aioli is a welcome change from the carnivorous repast, tasting faintly Oriental but without any greasiness or fattiness. I often regard belly of pork as a ‘control’ dish in restaurants – if they get it right, chances are that the rest of the menu will work as well – and this one was a delectable example, with cannellini beans bringing out the rich taste. All of this was ably complimented by a full, rich bottle of Tempranillo.

The Opera Tavern isn’t attempting to offer anything experimental or boundary-pushing. What the highly accomplished chefs, and the charming and helpful staff do is to make this the highest form of comfort food. You will leave, wallet not appreciably lighter, with a happy smile on your face and a desire to go back there in the very near future.

23 Catherine Street, WC2. www.operatavern.co.uk

Every Wednesday evening, at a very British institution strewn with cobbled streets and fudge shops and ladies in black gowns, I would slick my hair back gently and put on a reserved smile. I would then move into the traffic of black gowns that flowed into a large hall. On each table I distinctly remember a folded card with someone’s name written in gold pen, white cloth, polished silverware, and a sky of paintings and Latin prayers that no-one paid the slightest attention to. It used to be that you could choose who you sat with; and then the Dean or Master of Ceremonies said that this wasn’t ‘in the spirit of things’, and so you made do with awkward silences and shifty glances over your shoulder for the main and dessert. That is, until the wine came and you all got completely blathered.

This is supposed to be about a cool London restaurant, isn’t it? Give me a moment, please. Feelings are palpable things, rich with imagery and memories and worlds that you want to hold onto, or let go of. The places we go and see and like – it’s not all a matter of taste… or rather, taste is not coincidence… it’s no more than a development of your imagination.

I’ve got my hair gently quaffed up now, and I stroll into Penny Black, Chelsea; and, yes, the nostalgia greets me before the ballet of pretty penny’s do; It’s got a nice ring to it, this place, but all I’m seeing are those days when the Champagne flowed from gilded cups, those halcyon days when I thought myself something special; and the Champagne flows now. In Penny Black, it flows with the cool chrome at the lounge & bar, and the specially commissioned Simon Claridge paintings on the walls; it flows in the old British style with a surrealist twist (they have an original Salvador Dali on the far wall, for instance), and it flows in the precision of the menu, the dialectic of the bone-coloured wine list. It’s a full on British revival, and there’s the regal red and black of it everywhere now. Look at the columnists; they’re all giving inches back to this institution, built from toad’s in holes, roasted turbot, forerib of Longhorn beef, Paddington duck and sweet things your Mum’s mum used to bring in after tea; Arctic rolls, posh jelly and bread & butter puddin’.

Out with the international then, with pan-fusion and cutely-cut vegetables that they throw on the pan for a moment and call it ‘gourmet’. In with cool Britannia, unless we’re talking about the wine; a pretty good way to start the conversation, and to end it if need be. It comes by the glass, carafe and bottle, and there’s a personal bottle service for those with mean pairing skills (though the Sommelier is quite something, I tell you). She’s already pouring the light Argentinean red, and my fingers are twitching from starter to main to dessert; the music is classical, soothing, Beethovenish (every 21st century institution needs its theme tune); but the lights are too bright and so my date can’t see how my eyes dilate. ‘I know what I want’ I say; ’Roast root vegetable salad, then the Beef Wellington, potato and celeriac bake…finish it up with the Bread and butter pudding ’. She has the London Particular soup to start, Seared venison, Jerusalem artichokes, duck fat chips with a South African glass of 2008 lilac wine; Chocolate fondant & raspberry sorbet to finish.

Verdict: The signature Beef Wellington was the best I ever tasted, honestly; perfectly done medium-rare with the puff pastry layer so succulent that I’m calling the chef a genius. They say he worked with the legendary Oliver Peyton at Atlantic Bar and Grill. But this inspiration is all his own. The chocolate fondant, stolen signature dessert, drips off the spoon, tight grip as she tries to steal it back, lips-first. Hey, every institution needs its trademark dish, and these are theirs. You extrapolate between the two and what you get is a haze of sensory nostalgia.

People – British or not – if I told you this place does a magnanimous, stoic job of bringing hearty British food back to the faithless London gastro-scene, I’d be speaking figuratively, swayed by my own particular blend of reality and fiction. Still, you can’t help but go again; not after this.

www.thepennyblack.com/

212 Fulham Road
Chelsea, SW10 9PJ
0845 838 8998

A low-lit world with more than a touch of minimalist glamour awaits at Cocochan, which re-thinks the way we order food. The cleverly concocted menu revolves around the idea of sharing – as much or as little as you like – certainly a good plan, as everything my guest and I tried was just too good to keep to oneself.

Fresh interpretations of Japanese, Chinese, Thai and Indian classics sit alongside each other on Cocochan’s experimental but elegant menu that lets you have your dim sum and eat it too. Chilli squid with shichimi salt was unbelievably moreish to start, while the wildly contrasting flavours of the aromatic duck and watermelon salad harmonised surprisingly with each other. Bamboo trays provide a modern twist on a classic tradition, avoiding over-elaborate presentation and letting the dramatic flavours speak for themselves.

We sampled strips of tender beef, perfectly pink, accompanied by fragrant mustard wasabi that made the mouth water rather than burst into flames. The green curry, meanwhile, was as light as it was flavourful. We finished with a valiant shared attempt at dessert – for all of its appeal, two courses at Cocochan proved a fairly significant undertaking – choosing banana cake, a sweet, dense square of dessert which held its own against the tempting offer of ‘Dark chocolate delice’.

Taking on a dark and dramatic ambience in the evening, Cocochan also makes a fashionable lunchtime spot for weary legs, tiring of Bond Street boutiques a stones throw away. Combined with the sushi we spied winding its way to neighbouring tables, verging on making me regret the duck salad, the promise of drawn-out leisurely lunches on the terrace is more than enough to tempt me back.

Though the food was excellent, it would have been criminal to leave Cocochan without sampling their signature cocktails. The lounge bar tucked away downstairs, all polished wood and private booths, is an intimate yet energetic destination for post-dinner drinks. My pick was the Tangy Lilly – delicately fizzy champagne imbued with light citrus flavours and a single floating berry – classy, delicious and effortlessly cool – just like the rest of Cocochan.

www.cocochan.co.uk/

38-40 James Street. London W1U 1EU

Something that the English seem to find difficult that the Americans thrive on is so-called ‘bar dining’, when you sit at the bar of a restaurant, either on your own or with friends, and enjoy your meal that way. Done badly, it can be slightly off-putting, but done the right way it offers intimacy, a more casual approach to high-end restaurants and, in some cases, allows drop-in visitors the only chance that they might have to enjoy an excellent dinner at short notice.

The much-acclaimed Bocca di Lupo does have a few tables in the back room, but again the ambience here is buzzy, noisy in a good way and cheerful. If your idea of a good night is going somewhere where people speak in hushed tones and the staff are like undertakers solemnly offering funeral elegies to whatever birds and beasts have died for your culinary pleasure, forget it. One of two main reasons why Bocca is in everyone’s little black book is that it’s a genuinely fun and exciting place to hang out.

The other reason, perhaps inevitably, is chef Jacob Kenedy’s cooking, which takes the traditions of Italian regional cuisine and offers it at accessible prices with style and chutzpah to spare. The orecchiette might promise extremely spicy home-made salame but it’s unlikely to frighten the horses, while the fried soft-shell crab is to die for. A main course of tagliata of grilled rib of beef can be shared between two to 10 people, and those lucky enough to have it can marvel at the way that the rosemary, an unusual but effective compliment, suits the meat just as well as it does with lamb.

A dessert of sanguinaccio – chocolate mixed with pig’s blood – might sound revolting but in fact it tastes delicious, like the richest and most complex chocolate spread you’ve ever had. All of this goes superbly with the eclectic Italian-focused wine list; a particular highlight was a dry yet fruity Roero Arneis white from Piedmont, a beautiful compliment to the meal.

If you’re an ice cream connoisseur, then you’d be well advised to go over the road to the boutique Gelupo, which serves a weird and wonderful array of flavours, including ricotta, coffee and honey, bergamot sorbet and mulled wine granita. Like everything about its grown-up sibling, it’s innovative, delicious and not without a certain amount of wit as well.

12 Archer St, London W1. www.boccadilupo.com

For millennia, eating together and cooking for each other has been a signal of trust and intimacy and a huge part of social interaction. Cooking a meal for someone is a fundamentally personal process – from choosing the ingredients, to preparing it all with the aim of giving pleasure to a friend or lover. Sharing food is an extension of this, it is impossible not to grow closer to someone over a shared starter or pudding, and that is one of the reasons I love food.

As is probably clear I am a fan of this style of eating, whether it’s Spanish tapas, Chinese dim sum, Middle Eastern mezze or Korean bancham, they all add to the eating experience and in turn makes you discover new flavours and outlooks on food through the opinions shared with your dining companions.

With this in mind I arrived at Tapas Revolution, the bar started by Omar Allibhoy, nominated for the 2010 Observer Food Monthly Young Chef of the Year Award, in the Westfield shopping centre, with high hopes that, happily, were not dashed.

The talented chef, who, infuriatingly, is also devastatingly handsome displaying the sort of hair normally only seen in L’Oreal adverts, is hoping to start a revolution which sees the sadly underrepresented Spanish cuisine compete with the Chinese, Indian and Sushi restaurants which have been adopted so joyously in Britain.

Settling around the bar, overlooking the last of the day’s shoppers, we ordered a couple of cervezas, some olives and cortezas (delicious, crispy pork crackling) while we caught up on the day’s events and perused the rest of the menu – not so much a task of picking which dish to choose, as much as whittling down the list of what we wanted (everything) into an achievable meal; a decision which caused a healthy debate – to have the albondigas or the sweet, roasted peppers? – we agreed upon some amazing, intense acorn-fed iberico ham and pan tomaquet (a Spanish equivalent of bruschetta), to allow more time to ruminate.

Eventually we settled on the albondigas (meatballs), some rib-eye skewers with a delicious, tomato and paprika dipping sauce; carrilleras, pork cheeks, braised, for what must have been an eternity, judging by their tenderness, in sherry; chorizo al horno, chorizo sausage, oven-roasted in olive oil which took on a deliciously spicy note; fantastically rich and indulgent croquetas de jamon, chunks of ham suspended in an unctuous bechemal sauce; and the highlight of my evening – pollo al ajillo, chicken in a sweet garlic and onion sauce, which I would have happily married had it lasted long enough.

The shopping centre environment drifted into the background to be replaced by a mirage of a friendly, local bodega in the sun-drenched back street of a Spanish town, an oasis of calm that was only disturbed when we stood up having demolished the last of the cinnamon-sugar coated churros and thick hot-chocolate.

It captures the spirit of tapas perfectly, and if that’s not enough for Omar’s brand of laid-back Spanish cuisine to take off here, then I’m not sure what is… Viva La Revolución.

www.tapasrevolution.com

Kiosk K2024, The Balcony, Westfield London, Shepherd’s Bush, London, W12 7SL