The Opera Tavern, a tale of two services - Feb 2011

Where: The Opera Tavern, Covent Garden
How much: We spent £50 a head (with our bottle of wine and two coffees comped for the reasons explained below), and ate possibly more than we should have done. You can easily escape for less than £30 a head with a glass of wine if you order well
With who: Miss Jones
Come here if: for small plates of perfection, but book or be prepared to wait


It's an old Covent Garden boozer, converted into a clever, classy little tapas bar. Split over two floors, bar stools predominate the converted pub downstairs, small table informality and big (slightly drafty) windows balance an open glass wine wall in the space up the small staircase. From the team behind one of my favourite restaurants in London, Dehesa and older brother Salt Yard, it's fair to say that the opening of the Opera Tavern had me salivating slightly. 

The strong wine list mirrors the focus at sister restaurant Dehesa. Much of the menu appears to come from their older siblings too. The focus on solid Spanish swine is happily reprised. (Slightly sloppily carved) Jamon Iberico de Bellota is excellent. Salty and sweet with a nutty marbling of divine fat daring your heart to complain. Heads of deep fried courgette flower come next, stuffed with sticky goat's cheese and drizzled with honey. 
Mini Iberico pork and foie gras burgers fall apart without their skewer, the devil's own canapé. Rich little bundles popping with flavour, they feel a little out of place here, slightly too refined and worked, but unbelievably tasty non the less. This also applied to the (thankfully grease free) 'Italian style' Scotch Eggs. A clever take on the dish, soft cooked eggs lightly rolled in a spiced pork blanket served with garlicky aoli, it just felt slightly wrong in a tapas bar. The one bum note of the night came with a Short Rib of Beef served with over-cooked polenta and over-salted cavalo nero. The meat didn't taste of much but as Miss Jones put it, "it tastes slightly of wrong". Shame that. The gnocchi, taleggio cheese and mushroom gratin made up for this side step in the quality of the food. A perfect counterpoint to the meaty dishes served alongside.
We finish our savories with the full set of three different pinchos morunos, squat charcoal grilled skewers, a little pricy at £3 a pop, but stickily well cooked. The Salt Marsh Lamb Leg with smoked paprika stands out as a favourite of the three, cooked to pink perfection within a charred carapace. 
Pannacotta with a tooth-tinglingly tangy tangerine granita was the least lardy of the puds but even that nearly finished me off. I wouldn't have had it, but our waiter was so insistent we try it. A great example of its kind, with creamy vanilla texture and biscuity swirls to give a contrast. Miss Jones had one of the interesting sheep's milk cheeses from the list, perfectly acceptable finishers to the meal. 

A tale of two services... a small note

I feel like I have to take this out of the main review, as it was obviously a ‘once off’ evening that’s unlikely to happen to anyone else subsequently, but still think that it’s a strong enough point to address. We went (unknowingly) on an evening where there were a number of invited critics, bloggers and journalists in the room and definitely felt the chill breeze of favouritism (and it certainly wasn't the slightly open window). When the two tables to either side (seated after us) were sat with groaning platters, checked on every five minutes for their thoughts, and we’d sat for 45 minutes without anything other than a drink in front of us I collared the duty manager to explain the situation. She obviously assured me that there was no special treatment other than a glass of prosecco, and it transpired that apparently our server had just failed to put our order into the kitchen. That being said, with the size of the restaurant and the amount of staff focus on the tables around me, it stuck in my craw a little that they hadn’t noticed the lack of food or bothered to check in with us for such a period of time. If we hadn’t had a bottle of wine and several weeks worth of gossip to get through, we’d have got up and left. 

Other than that (glaring) error, the staff seemed in the main knowledgeable, likeable and gearing up to be a good team. They knew their way around the menu, suggesting confidently and appropriately, and knew their wines too. It’s just a shame we had to spend most of the evening listening to them lavish this knowledge on their more important guests...  

Recent review of Bob Bob Ricard - Feb 2011

Where: Bob Bob Ricard, Soho
How much: £40 - £50 a head for 2 courses and drinks, though you can go much higher if you choose
With who: The Coastguard and Trouble
Come here if: you're in need of a dining experience that genuinely brightens your day

Where do you take a Grumbling Gourmet, an American on his first "since I could drink" trip to Europe and a bolshy pescatarian for a bite to eat after a few beers? With such diverse tastes to cater for, Bob Bob Ricard was an obvious choice. It was also directly across the street from our drinking den, the old faithful Old Coffee House) and so didn’t need much discussion.

Bob Bob Ricard has been gently settling into the London scene for nearly three years now. It wasn’t the softest of landings, due in part to a particularly exuberant launch menu which they attempted to run from breakfast - famously silver serving cornflakes and toast - to late night - a la Wolesley, a slightly unfair and unintended comparison. The reviews were weighted towards the positive, but wildly mixed, AA Gill described it as the worst opening of the year in an infamously acerbic roasting, Giles Coren was muted at best, Jay Rayner liked and while Marina O'Loughlin loved the ‘deliciously daft’ restaurant (along with several others), it certainly wasn’t universal positivity. 

They didn’t do themselves any favours with the relatively cosy cabal of top restaurateurs either. Their policy of ‘naming and shaming’ big wine mark ups at the top restaurants while guaranteeing no more than a £50 mark up was welcomed by the consumers of such big price tagged bottles, but drew fire elsewhere for highlighting the gross mark ups that are often charged. The proof is in the pudding (wine, they serve Chateau d' Yquem by the glass) and today they sell enormous amounts of wine at the £100 - £400 level that would cost you nearer £400 - £1600 in places like Hospital Road or Ducasse. Wonderful if you’re being entertained by a big city beast, mere mortals will feel safe with some solid choices (they really know their wines here) at the lower end of the spectrum or by the glass. Oh and they have a champagne button. A tableside button that summons champagne.

It’s the latter quirk that sums up the feel of the restaurant better than anything. Classy, with touches of madness. Moodily lit, marbled and packed with twists of colour, the pastel shades of the staff uniforms (pink soldier style jackets for the boys, blue waistcoats for the girls) should clash with the blue leather booths that divide the place like a large snug railway carriage, but they pull it off somehow. The room from the outside (or to the drunk) appears full of flitting birds of paradise, bobbing and weaving between the tables.

Following an instructive pre-Christmas lunch with charismatic owner Leonid (the ‘Bob Bob’ of the team) I was certainly going for one of the modern Russian starters I’d had before, with a palate cleansing vodka to bring out the flavour. As a combination it has the desired effect, leaving my taste buds ready for a creamy smooth Russian Salad, diced vegetables in thick, rich mayonnaise topped with slices of black truffle (not quite as Mother-ski would have made it, but close enough to provide a touch of home for any expat guests. They also offer herring, caviar, jellied ox tongue and pickled mushrooms (sadly no cornflakes anymore) accompanied by vodka and a range of more traditionally Western (though not specifically traditional) starters including an excellent tuna Nicoise carpaccio sampled tonight and a very good venison steak tartare. Mains similarly cross the divide between solid high end classics and Russian comfort food (the focus on the former), all cooked by a Brit. Several times I’ve been unable to tear myself from their excellent Chicken Kiev, served with a sweetcorn mash, oozing garlic through its poached then Panko crumb fried pores. 

They source well, cuts from legendary Knightsbridge meat master O’Shea’s make several appearances on the menu through an Onglet cut, a very good chateaubriand and a luxurious beef Wellington. Pescatarians fare well, with four or five solid (if not imaginative) fish options including a lobster and chips at a city beast budget of £39. Veggies less so. There’s only a single, sullen sounding cherry tomato and parmesan tarte fine, glaring down from the top of the menu like the only Goth in the room, ignored and moribund. 

Mains generally hit the £18 - £20 mark, with a few rising well above this, the house burger brings the average down, though add the obligatory fries in and you’re still looking at £18 for the plate. It is a fine burger though. The bar for top end meat patties has risen recently through the efforts of Hawksmoor, the sloppy authenticity of #Meateasy and the rise and rise of the Byron chain. BBR fits in well, though there are other options on the menu worth a look.

A slight faux pas with the bill aside, the good humoured staff are well drilled and friendly and the member’s club vibe extends to Bobby’s Bar in the basement, a perfect spot to wind down with guests after a long lunch or dinner. A solid, quirky option with well heeled friends or clients, much needed in a part of town stronger on more casual dining.