A short review of Lemonia, Primrose Hill - June 2011

Where: Lemonia, Primrose Hill
With who: The Ginger Prince, Mrs Ginger Prince and others
How much: A toppy £25 per person for a glass of wine, shared starters and a main. Most mains are keenly priced at between £13 and £17
Come here if: you want to live like the beautiful people, or you're stalking Jude Law

Every tribe in London has their place. The well to do theatre crowd colonise The Ivy, Sheekeys and Joe Allens and the hedge fundies have Scotts or Goodman. The smug monied media mass of Primrose Hill have Odettes and posh Greek charcoal grill Lemonia.

It's been a local fixture for years, almost certainly in existence before the arrival of the creative agency types and the minor celebs attracted by the villagey vibe and bucolic rusticity of the little street off the top of Regent's Park. Sandwiched between delis and dress shops Limonia has a reputation above and beyond a thick menu of competent Greek cuisine. Arriving late, sodden with rain and lager, we managed to slide into one of the booths in the atrium at the rear, a table overhung with flourishing greenery from the low hanging roof planters.

Mixed meze and pitta forgettably dealt with early hunger pangs. I went for a slow roast aubergine dish topped with a smooth paste of minced lamb and cheese, served on a bed of creamy spinach. Not accomplished cooking by any means but hearty fare in variance with the thin and fashionable regulars. A couple of companions, more regular habitués than I, went for lamb chops from the grill. Slim shards of perfectly crisped fat along the bone were a delight to gnaw, but the meat wasn't quite pink enough for us.. the charcoal grill giveth but it also taketh away. The accompanying chips and rice were largely and deservedly unnoticed.

Right place at the right time? It's certainly got a place in local hearts and with the crowds it gets, the management won't be bothered that I'm not a super fan. I'd be happy to eat here again, but only if someone forces me to spend time in the many nearby bars first.

   

Jose and Zucca on Bermondsey Street - June 2011

Where: Jose and Zucca, Bermondsey Street

With who: J School and Dr Vole

How much: just over £40 a head for the entire evening. Sherries and starters in Jose are between £3 and £6 and you'll struggle to spend over £18 for 2 courses at Zucca.

Come here if: you want to try a range of great restaurants in a relatively small space

We'd finally hit summer. Friday night spent lolling outside the pub and a perky Saturday of sun and fun with walks wearing shirt and no jumper. A continental day ended appropriately with a hoped for but unscheduled aperitif stop in Bermondsey tapas joint du jour Jose. Owned eponymously by Jose 'Brindisa' Pizarro and garrulous business partner front of house expert Herve, it's finishing the job that neighbour (and final dinner destination) Zucca kick started and making Bermondsey, Street at least, a real foodie destination.

I have a slight problem with tapas restaurants out of their native environments, and it's that you can't crawl. The joy of tapas for me comes with a gleeful bowl around the neighbourhood and a bite and a glass in each joint. Moderation, exercise and a pub crawl in one. With a little help from Herve, we may have cracked it.

Prior to dinner and after a long warm walk, I was ready for a glass of something dry and crisp and cold. I steered us into Jose, keen to have a gander. The white tiled space focussed around the marble slab bar feels uncharacteristically out of place in South London, the heat emanating from it even more so. A combination of the small room, a large stove surrounded by Jose and his brigade, no air con and a sunny day meant I nearly lost the others at the first hurdle. The place was packed, no more than 25 in there, but it's enough not to want to be there when it's busier. No reservations means that like Spuntino you're going to have to come early, or be prepared to wait. As Herve explained, they're not aiming for the (London) bridge and tunnel crowd but hoping to add something to a great little local scene prior to opening larger restaurant Pizarro later in the year.

I sucked down deliciously dry sherry while we gorged, an early doors licensing quirk meant no booze without food, on a couple of the delicious tapa from behind the counter. We grabbed a couple of plates judging they would suffice as starters. Sea fresh boquerones, juicy white anchovies, came in a light and sweet seasoned cava vinegar, Murcian speciality pisto, a simple full flavoured Spanish version of ratatouille, came with a perfectly fried duck's egg. Giant yolk flecked with salt looming over the the plate reminding us of the late spring sun. Despite the specials board (cruelly featuring crab and basil croquettes the next day) you'd struggle to make a full meal out of the place, but that's partly the point. Grab a couple of plates, and move on. We admitted to Herve that we were going on to Zucca for our mains; "there you go then! There's your tapas crawl.. start here, mains at Zucca and then on to Village East for a cocktail or dessert." Tapas crawl, Bermondsey style.

Dinner at Zucca is always a treat. It's always worth a try on the day, you might be lucky, but generally it needs booking. If you want the perfect example of a local restaurant, it's right here. Seasonal fresh and good ingredients, reasonable prices and friendly knowledgable staff. It's not a difficult combination, but it's surprisingly hard to find. The buzz in the bright, light room is palpable. Intending on only a main, we were upsold to a shared Zucca Fritti, their house special - lightly deep fried sticks of pumpkin and squash, breads and then given a complimentary plate of spinach frittata. No complaints from this one, though my stomach did let out a moan on seeing the size of the veal chop that followed. Having written about Zucca a couple of times before, I'll happily attest to the meal being up to its usual standards and urge you again to go if you haven't.

And the dessert? Not a chance. Though by the time we dragged our distended bellies out of the door, Village East was just starting to get going. There are worse ways to spend a Saturday night...