Manteca
BUONA FORTUNA
We’re taking our daughter back to London; a deal struck when negotiating her Christmas stay. As part of the deal we get to stay the night and take her out for dinner.
I haven’t booked anywhere—having half expected another lockdown—and it seems most restaurants haven’t yet reopened. There has been talk of us trying here for a few weeks and by good fortune, it’s one of the few restaurants open tonight too.
The website’s not allowing me to book, so I’m on the phone bang on the dot at five. They can fit us in at nine, but we quickly decide it’s too late. Within a few minutes, we’ve descended into a squabble, fuelled by pure disappointment. There’s only one thing for it, I ring back immediately and get us booked in.
View from the best seat in the house
Arriving ten minutes early—out of hunger, rather than hope or expectation—we’re walked straight through the main room, into a room that’s as much kitchen as dining room. Its stripped back, neutral décor is the perfect blank canvas for the energy of the room that’s got pleasure turned up to maximum.
Just scanning the menu has me grinning and purring. It’s a cliché-free homage to Italian-inspired food that can be tackled as small plates, sharing plates, or even as four courses. There’s also an impressive Italian-dominated wine list that threatens to have me guzzling.
Bitter leaf salad, pear, gorgonzola dolce
In the wave of ‘antipasti’ the first plate starts tentatively tickling the palate with bitterness from pink and red radicchio and the soft crunch of wonderfully ripe pear, before chunks of melting, savoury-sweet Gorgonzola provide a fulcrum for the heavy dusting of salty pecorino to balance the flavours.
House-made ricotta, roasted grapes, pangrattato
Then, a completely different twist on another plate of ‘cheese and fruit’ comes with the subtlety and salty-hint of house-made ricotta, the intensified sweetness of roasted grapes and the fried crunch of sourdough breadcrumbs that works like ancient Italian space dust.
Rigatoni, kale sauce, parmigiano
The next round of dishes brings pasta three ways. First for me is rigatoni in a silky, seemingly distilled kale sauce that’s greener than the Incredible Hulk with chilli flakes intensifying its green credentials and a decent dusting of Parmesan to soften it up.
Fazzoletti, duck ragù, duck fat pangrattato
Duck ragù glistens across thin sheets of pasta, capturing puddles of sauce in their folds, topped with the crunch of duck fat pangrattato that I’d happily just snack on. It leaves me wondering how I’ve never come across the legend that is breadcrumbs fried in duck fat before.
Tonnarelli, brown crab, cacio e pepe
And then those two ordinarily scene stealing plates of pasta find themselves outshone by tonnarelli, brown crab, cacio e pepe with the rich, sweetness of brown crab proving to be the dream date for the creamy, salty and peppery spiciness of cacio e pepe. I’ve never been more grateful to have sourdough left to greedily scrape up the last of the sauce. It’s the sort of dish that any restaurant could, or even should, become famous for.
Pork blade, prunes, cime di rapa
The next round of food brings melt-in-mouth, slow cooked pork blade, in a gravy bolstered by the sweetness of prunes, balancing the nutty-bitterness of cime di rape with perfect buttery, creamy mash. It’s a plate that’s eased back on the throttle in terms of flavour bombs, opting instead for pure comfort and it’s pretty much all mine.
Pink fir potato & fennel al forno
Gnarled and crunchy, herb-laden and oil soaked pink fir potatoes and fennel al forno could easily have been one course too many at any other restaurant, but they turn out to be the perfect finger snack to finish off our wine and wave a fond farewell to the savoury side of the meal.
Chocolate tart, whey caramel, olive oil, sea salt
I’ve seriously—err… joyously—over-eaten for five days, but there’s no way I’m going to stop now, with chocolate tart, whey caramel, olive oil, sea salt on the menu. It’s easy to trust there’s nothing gimmicky about the olive oil here. As it is, there’s a dense chocolatey crunch of a pastry with dark chocolate filling sweetened by whey caramel and it’s brought wonderfully into line with the green, peppery olive oil and intensified by the salt.
It’s exactly the sort of thing I’d expect to eat at The River Café—at double the price—and we’ve pretty much made comparisons to there and Bocca di Lupo on most of the food tonight. It’s been waves of classic Italian food pairings and cooking, pushed two or three phases on; with innovations that draw in ingredients from the whole of Italy on the same plate, freeing themselves from the culinary restraints regionalism can bring.
And with the last sips of dessert wine, noticing we’re now in an empty restaurant, is like waking from a dream. It’s with much the same feeling as a Monday morning after a brilliant weekend, as I have to come to terms that the meal is over; even the coffee machine has been switched off.
With 3 glasses of white and a fabulous bottle of Salentino Rosso, I’ve got a bill of £194.67 including service charge and I’ve certainly never spent less than £200 on better Italian food in London.
It’s been a night of good fortune and my meal of the year.
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED 10/10
49-51 Curtain Road, Shoreditch, London, EC2A 3PT
