The River Café
I TRUST IN NUCLEAR FUSION
I had two significant fears when I was a young child; sinking sand and the sun burning itself out. This has only sprung to mind as, walking here along the Thames from Hammersmith, my daughter has just said she’s worried it won’t be as good as she remembers it—three years ago. She’s read some reviews online that say it’s ‘not as good as it used to be’. We’re like pilgrims journeying to our holy place and I’m now a bit unsettled.
Spinning back to 1995, with the publication of The River Café cookbook, there was finally something that spoke to me in the food language of Italy I’d experienced whilst living there. And there’s not one jot of exaggeration to say this place started a ‘food revolution’ in the UK, initially via owners Rose Gray (RIP) and Ruth Rogers and then the River Café alumni including Jamie Oliver, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and Theo Randall… to name just a few.
We kick off with aperitivi, whilst reading the menu. Then re-reading, discussing it, re-reading it, discussing it some more and then starting the process of whittling it down. Twice we have to send our waiter away, but as they say ‘third time lucky’, we’re ready, having eased the decision-making process by agreeing on a fritto misto to share.
It’s an unspectacular but genius move to settle us in, featuring a lightly battered mix of tender cuttlefish, fleshy, fresh anchovy fillets, sage leaves sandwiching salted anchovies, lemon and mini-globe artichokes.
Fritto misto - cuttlefish, anchovy, sage, carciofini
We’ve a loosely negotiated agreement in place which is two-thirds of your choice is yours and the rest is for sharing. Now, that’s my kind of tasting meal.
Tagliarini with veal, lemon peel, thyme, prosciutto and Soave La Rocca
For ‘starters’ I’ve gone with tagliarini with a delicate ragù bianco with veal, lemon, thyme and prosciutto in a broth offering up a light kick of fruity acidity, countered by a heavy dusting of parmesan.
Calamari ai ferri with peas, mint, anchovy and parsley
I’m pretty smug as I push my plate towards the centre of the table, pulling the calamari ai ferri towards me, but it takes just one mouthful to know this is exactly the kind of dish I’m expecting; it’s cucina rustica in full flow. Centre stage is smoke-licked and fire-kissed calamari with the sweetness of melt in your mouth, slow cooked peas, fully supported by the salty funk of anchovies, the bitterness of parsley and the freshness of mint.
Mozzarella di buffala with warm cima di rapa, smashed artichokes and selvapiana extra virgin olive oil
It does mean I’ve lingered too long and only get two mouthfuls of sweet buffalo mozzarella with bitter aromatics from wilted cima di rapa, earthy-smashed artichokes and plenty of grassy spiced extra virgin olive oil. But it at least prompts a call for more bread and we’re soon fighting over the mopping remains across all three plates.
Rombo al forno - wood roasted wild turbot with olives and oregano, spring peas and rainbow chard
My primary claim on the mains brings on a huge grin; a meaty tranche of wood roasted wild turbot with its blank canvas perfect for the whiff of smoke and aromatics of oregano with the hard yards being put in by the light salinity of olives and the sweetness of tender spring peas softening the leafy rich twang of rainbow chard.
Fegato in padella - seared calf’s liver with pancetta, sage and lemon peel, with slow cooked broad beans
Again, I’m pretty smug with my choice, as I swap with the calf’s liver, but within a couple of mouthfuls I know I’ve been trumped again. This time it’s cucina rustica in full pomp with generous slabs of seared, dissolve-in-the mouth meat, salty crunch from brittle fried rashers of pancetta, sitting on top of a light stew of slow cooked tender broad beans in their skins, artichoke petals and greens, with freshness from lemon and sage. It’s a dish that’s pure spring.
Gnocchi di patate with Scottish langoustines and Sardinian bottarga
I end up with just the one mouthful of pillowy gnocchi with gorgeously plump langoustines in a fabulous oily, sweet rich ‘soup’ empowered by umami from a generous grating of bottarga. No worries I’m stuffed, but still regretting I’ve not even a tiny piece of bread left.
Affogato al Caffè, Grappa Nardini
We’re on the edge of passing on dessert, until someone suggests an affogato and we’re all immediately on it, although I’m the only one opting to have a grappa too. It needs saying I’m strangely subdued on the wine front with us only getting through a bottle of Valpolicella and a half litre of Reisling.
By the time we’re ready to settle the bill, staff from lunch service are congregating behind the bar for the ‘staff meal’ and I’ve never wanted a job in a restaurant more than right now.
The River Café - dining room
I’ve got a bill of £444.75 including service charge and I can’t think of any better way to spend my money than lunch here with the family. The River Café is still the benchmark for all restaurants as far as I’m concerned. It’s a fabulous dining experience in a room that draws energy from the open plan kitchen, the efficiency of its small army of staff and the enthrallment of diners across all ages. It all adds up to make it a sublime people watching experience too.
But ultimately, it’s about the food; provenance, best in class produce, seasonality and simplicity with absolutely no cutting corners. It’s just as it has always been and I imagine it will forever be.
Or at least until the sun burns itself out.
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED 10/10
Thames Wharf, Rainville Road, Fulham, London W6 9HA
