To me, ‘tapas’ is a way of eating. Plentiful appetising plates shared; a celebration of colour, texture and even temperature. In that sense, Dim Sum follows the same formula. Craving variety, even in conventional restaurants, I often explore more of a venue’s menu by sharing an extra dish or two, which I suppose fits (and inevitably fattens) the bill…
It will come as no surprise, therefore, that I began salivating the second I heard my foodie friends’ latest mission: sample six of the capital’s top Hispanic tapas bars in as many hours.
I dream of indulging in a menu where a flurry of ‘tapastic’ appetisers are prepared and eaten in Spain, the main and cheese course, France, concluding with a pampering, sweet extravaganza in Italy. About 500 miles, and God knows how many calories. All in a long afternoon. Our tapas tour, whilst smaller in scale, struck the same nerve.
Spanish Liquid Sunshine, British ClimateWith two fellow epicureans, I joined the queue for Borough Market’s
Brindisa (reservations not accepted). With little means, but fuelled by the desire to ‘spread pleasure’ with Spanish products, British born Monika Linton founded the parent specialist import company 20 years ago. The most recent offshoot: a fairly raw bar/Jamoneria, theoretically showroom to the finest ingredients.
Our start was inauspicious, seated on the pavement next to a bin. We selected copitas of nervy Manzanilla sherry. ‘La Gitana’ had a whiff of kelp, Tabasco and marsh samphire with a strict, blotter-dry palate. Incidentally, the characteristic salty tang comes from a natural yeast blanket called 'flor' which stops oxygen turning the wine to vinegar in barrel.
Whilst we encountered no poor ingredients (there would be no excuse, being within a market nicknamed ‘London’s Larder’) the kitchen’s focus occasionally blurred. Gazpacho with a brittle wafer of fried bread was overly frothed and lacked acidic bite. Meaty, succulent garlic prawns fried in chilli and oil, with brittle blanched parsley, wanted for the lifting cloves sufficient to ward away vampires. Small, salty pan-fried Padrón peppers were universally mild. About one in 10 are fiery and I like the Russian roulette concept. The Spanish describe the surprise one as a ‘pequeño pero matón’ (teeny-weeny thug).
The highlight was a cross section of Monte Enebro, a goat’s log made by a retired builder and his daughter outside Madrid. This cossetingly melty, slightly citric, nutty segment was served warm, licked by clear, runny honey.
We intended to sample a control ‘tapa’ at each location. Croquettas, the onion bhaji of Spain’s gastronomic canon, seemed an obvious choice. Brindisa’s versions had thick crusts but disapointingly lubricious centres. Overall, staff noticeably unsympathetic to our tapas crawl left us under-whelmed. The service charge was questionable considering that we had to beg for cutlery and join a line to pay. But the cheese appeased.
Brindisa18-20 Southwark Street, Borough, SE1
T. 020 7357 8880
Tube/Overland: London Bridge
High on TxacoliBy almost staged contrast, those working the counters at colourful Pinchito (named in honour of ‘pintxos’, Basque skewered bread bites) were aflame with interest.
Six friends united by a love for everything Iberian launched this sequel to a successful opening in Brighton. Apparently ‘trendy Shoreditch’ reminds them of Barcelona’s café and culture -laden Calle, ‘El Born’. An eclectic soundtrack, including Frank Sinatra played on the jukebox.
Almost every bottle is available by the glass. We drank tumblers of Txacoli, a subtly spritz-laden, inexpensive white from San Sebastián. Like the local cider, this is theatrically poured from a height, which angers it into a fleeting froth. With a perfume of snowdrop and a crisp, refreshingly cleansing palate, it is curiously addictive and light in alcohol.
The most desirable dish was Hangar Steak (onglet). The succulently sealed, smokey meat evoked well-hung game. It was coolly coated by a fringe of paprika spiked, oil and garlic infused aioli.
Profoundly-spiced Cumin Pork Kebabs showed a Moroccan influence. Cold Squid morsels were lacquered by greaseless, buoyantly fresh vinaigrette. Finally, mixed meat Croquettas were firm and sweet and reassuringly irregular in appearance.
Pinchito’s tapas were nurturing in a homemade sense, rather than pristinely executed. This prompts the question, what is most important: an involving ambience or fine-tuned kitchen? Intoxicated by the cosy kitchen aromas, and feeling the effect of the unusual wine’s staccato bubbles, we felt inclined to abandon the rest of our tapas fantastica in favour of a lazy afternoon in Shoreditch.
Pinchito32 Featherstone Street, EC1Y
T. 020 7490 0121
Tube: Old Street
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Mapping Tapas