After a long day of fine beer at the Ladbroke Arms, my dining companion and I stumbled over to Kensington Square to experience what she called the "best trendy authentic Italian in London".
Upon entering Locanda Ottomezzo, one is struck by the Fellini-motivated theme - old-school movie posters, many with the "8 1/2" (yes, that's what Ottomezzo means, I think). The restaurant even has its own movie poster, highlighting the intimate, small dining room with red stucco walls.
In addition to the exclusively Italian staff, who speaks a very sexy broken English, the dinner also includes a reasonably-priced Italian wine list (we chose a Pinot Nero from Niedermayr of the 2004 vintage, which needed some decanting but was smooth and delectable).
After we ordered our entrees, we gorged on fresh bread with LO's own olive oil - peppery but smooth with no aftertaste. We started with a fresh mozzarella and ripe tomatoes (housemade and silky - the cheese, not the tomatoes, silly) - a very well-done traditional Italian dish.
The speciality of the house (which my companion ordered) was the risotto with mushrooms. What makes this simple dish the house favorite is that fact that is it scooped table side from a massive Parmesan wheel - exquisite presentation and flavor to match.
I am a sucker for fresh noodles and the homemade papardelle fit the bill. The realization that this was a true fine Italian restaurant was the veal ragout - the sauce was surprisingly light; an elegant sauce
We were stuffed from our long day of imbibing both London's fine drafts and subtle Italian dishes, so we skipped desert, but were treated to light, homemade biscotti as we finished our wine.
Overall, a perfect Italian respite in the heart of a nice London neighborhood. Even if I used "homemade" too many times in the review, it exemplifies this fine little restaurant tucked away in the Kensington neighborhood.
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Thursday, May 21, 2009
London 2009: Ladbroke Arms
Dear reader, I am going to slip back in to my terrible habit of writing some of my au courant experiences; I wish I could wring the time out of my schedule to slog through the dozens of worthy draft posts I have not given due attention. However, my passion for my recent holiday weekend in London drives me to share what was just about a perfect weekend.
So, I will start with what was an auspicious Thursday in London's Notting Hill neighborhood. I had landed early that morning on the overnight flight; a few hours of sleep and a desire to get on London time led me to one of my favorite pubs in this fine city.
I went with two friends to the Ladbroke Arms, a venerable gastro-pub just off the Holland Park Road (I love how Britons use "the" in front of most roads). This was not my first visit to the Ladbroke Arms, but it had been several years. Nestled away from the traffic off a street called Ladbroke Road off a street called Ladbroke Court off a street called Ladbroke something across from a police station (confusing, right?) is a well laid out pub with a front garden area. Run by a team of French folks, they have brought truly good food to the pub experience.
More surprising than the anticipated French-style service (they mostly ignore Americans wearing ironic t-shirts) was the fact that, waiting for our third friend to arrive, I got a sunburn (you may ask, do they have those in London?) sipping London Pride (served warm-ish, of course) on the patio.
Even more surprising than all of this is the fact that they served a beautiful salad with fresh cooked rare salmon and frites.
I don't have a lot more to say than this pub gives you the real feel of the London experience without having to suffer through the terrible food that usually accompanies the experience. As a friend I once had recommended to the pub said, the Ladbroke had me "cradled in its Arms", and I couldn't think of a better place to start four perfect days in London with weather more appropriate to the South of France than London in the waning days of May. Go there.
So, I will start with what was an auspicious Thursday in London's Notting Hill neighborhood. I had landed early that morning on the overnight flight; a few hours of sleep and a desire to get on London time led me to one of my favorite pubs in this fine city.
I went with two friends to the Ladbroke Arms, a venerable gastro-pub just off the Holland Park Road (I love how Britons use "the" in front of most roads). This was not my first visit to the Ladbroke Arms, but it had been several years. Nestled away from the traffic off a street called Ladbroke Road off a street called Ladbroke Court off a street called Ladbroke something across from a police station (confusing, right?) is a well laid out pub with a front garden area. Run by a team of French folks, they have brought truly good food to the pub experience.
More surprising than the anticipated French-style service (they mostly ignore Americans wearing ironic t-shirts) was the fact that, waiting for our third friend to arrive, I got a sunburn (you may ask, do they have those in London?) sipping London Pride (served warm-ish, of course) on the patio.
Even more surprising than all of this is the fact that they served a beautiful salad with fresh cooked rare salmon and frites.
I don't have a lot more to say than this pub gives you the real feel of the London experience without having to suffer through the terrible food that usually accompanies the experience. As a friend I once had recommended to the pub said, the Ladbroke had me "cradled in its Arms", and I couldn't think of a better place to start four perfect days in London with weather more appropriate to the South of France than London in the waning days of May. Go there.
Friday, January 25, 2008
London 2008 - Tom Aikens
Tom Aikens probably hates me. No, definitely. It turns out that last night I was that obnoxious guy who reserved the private room for a small group (less than "allowed") and then proceeds to actually drink the aperitifs, wine pairings, and dessert wines that fold into the "Classic Menu", so as to become very drunk and further boisterous. Luckily, the private room reservation allowed them to sequester me in the back of the venue with no contact with the more upstanding patrons.
I have to say, as both a testament and a critique (for its own sake), that the wine pairings menu was more robust than any I have seen. At El Bulli, Alinea, WD-40, Moto, etc they typically pour a 1/3 to 1/2 portion of wine per course. At Tom Aikens, the *very* attentive servers probably tipped the bottle closer to a full glass + . . . which pleased me, but as we approached dessert, we were still trying to catch ourselves up to all of the fine wines that were served.
As you can tell, the night didn't end up quite as civilized as expected, but that can't erase the memory of the inventive and strongly-flavored dishes that Tom Aikens (owner and chef) pumped out of the kitchen. Despite the language barriers (I think they hire exclusively French service staff), the dishes were on the point - stark, strong reflections of the concept that was articulated on the menu. I also must complement the strength of the service staff not only on describing and delivering the menu, but also accommodating the less experienced / less adventurous diners at the table. Despite the blasphemy of changing the "Tom Aikens Classic" menu, with fluid ease the servers helped our friends navigate away from Foie Gras and Pig's Head dishes.
As a side note, the Pig's Head dish was actually not a pig's head. This was quite a surprise to me, but it was more of a "Tour de Pig"; excellent trotters stuffed with marrow, perfectly flavored and textured pig's cheek, fried pig's ear and seared pig's belly.
The fish dishes were elegant but overpowering in flavor - stay for the sauce but don't mistake it for healthy. The more savory dishes were true to form and paired well with the heavier wines that came toward the end of the progression. As my friend AC will say, the "pop rocks" lollipop dessert thrilled (enough for a repeat).
Definitely a place to return; two Michelin stars well-deserved, and kudos for allowing a group of Yanks to go wild on a Friday night, with impeccable service to cover our faux pas . . .I need to put a special note out to the server who *attempted* to bring in the cheese course to this inebriated ship of fools; thanks for the discretion.
I have to say, as both a testament and a critique (for its own sake), that the wine pairings menu was more robust than any I have seen. At El Bulli, Alinea, WD-40, Moto, etc they typically pour a 1/3 to 1/2 portion of wine per course. At Tom Aikens, the *very* attentive servers probably tipped the bottle closer to a full glass + . . . which pleased me, but as we approached dessert, we were still trying to catch ourselves up to all of the fine wines that were served.
As you can tell, the night didn't end up quite as civilized as expected, but that can't erase the memory of the inventive and strongly-flavored dishes that Tom Aikens (owner and chef) pumped out of the kitchen. Despite the language barriers (I think they hire exclusively French service staff), the dishes were on the point - stark, strong reflections of the concept that was articulated on the menu. I also must complement the strength of the service staff not only on describing and delivering the menu, but also accommodating the less experienced / less adventurous diners at the table. Despite the blasphemy of changing the "Tom Aikens Classic" menu, with fluid ease the servers helped our friends navigate away from Foie Gras and Pig's Head dishes.
As a side note, the Pig's Head dish was actually not a pig's head. This was quite a surprise to me, but it was more of a "Tour de Pig"; excellent trotters stuffed with marrow, perfectly flavored and textured pig's cheek, fried pig's ear and seared pig's belly.
The fish dishes were elegant but overpowering in flavor - stay for the sauce but don't mistake it for healthy. The more savory dishes were true to form and paired well with the heavier wines that came toward the end of the progression. As my friend AC will say, the "pop rocks" lollipop dessert thrilled (enough for a repeat).
Definitely a place to return; two Michelin stars well-deserved, and kudos for allowing a group of Yanks to go wild on a Friday night, with impeccable service to cover our faux pas . . .I need to put a special note out to the server who *attempted* to bring in the cheese course to this inebriated ship of fools; thanks for the discretion.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
London 2008 - George
I have been invited many fine times to the proper type of British club in the city, but on this mild mid-Winter trip to the UK, I was finally able to slouch on one of the comfortable couches at George (no link to ensure exclusivity?) and dine on some fine morsels with friends in the intimacy of a private club, rather than a restaurant, in central London.
According to members, THE George is widely known as an exclusive spot in a nice part of town (I agree) and the owner does traffic in the right circles (owner also has the spots Annabels, Harry's and Mark's). . . the only offensive thing about the place is that it is described as a "Nantucket-Style Brasserie". I mean, what does that even signify? Does anyone from the US, particularly from Nantucket, know what they are getting at?
They certainly don't, so I will help them:
Upon entering The George, one feels very comfortably at home; not the snobbish "city club" feel you have in NYC or Chicago, but more like the "trendy group of friendly folks" vibe you get at Casa Tua in Miami (with shorter men and women). . . . The high-end bar food is delicious; lightly friend whitefish, mini-burgers, frites and tartare all well-executed, and, in keeping with its private club nature, the service is discreet, friendly and "punctual" (in that my glass was never dry).
If the proprietor Mark forgave my review of above, I would probably join this fine establishment to maintain an uncompromising spot to host friends and clients in the London scene; however, I don't know if I could make the mark of this exclusive enclave, and so remain anonymous to preserve my blog's integrity :)
According to members, THE George is widely known as an exclusive spot in a nice part of town (I agree) and the owner does traffic in the right circles (owner also has the spots Annabels, Harry's and Mark's). . . the only offensive thing about the place is that it is described as a "Nantucket-Style Brasserie". I mean, what does that even signify? Does anyone from the US, particularly from Nantucket, know what they are getting at?
They certainly don't, so I will help them:
Upon entering The George, one feels very comfortably at home; not the snobbish "city club" feel you have in NYC or Chicago, but more like the "trendy group of friendly folks" vibe you get at Casa Tua in Miami (with shorter men and women). . . . The high-end bar food is delicious; lightly friend whitefish, mini-burgers, frites and tartare all well-executed, and, in keeping with its private club nature, the service is discreet, friendly and "punctual" (in that my glass was never dry).
If the proprietor Mark forgave my review of above, I would probably join this fine establishment to maintain an uncompromising spot to host friends and clients in the London scene; however, I don't know if I could make the mark of this exclusive enclave, and so remain anonymous to preserve my blog's integrity :)
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