Telephone: 020 7813 8010
Address: 33 Charlotte Street, London W1
Dinner for two, with wine and service, £90
Within minutes of arriving at Fino, a Spanish restaurant on London's Charlotte Street, I knew the shape of this review. The room, all blond wood tables and white walls and crowded bar, had a friendly buzz to it. The waiters, mostly young women, mostly Spanish, were attentive and friendly. The menu read intriguingly, too - no bang-'em-out tapas bar, this. There were bowls of clams, fillets of milk-fed lamb, cep croquettes and crispy fried squid and langoustines, at what looked like keen prices. When my wife returned from the loo saying, 'This is officially my favourite restaurant in London' on account of the surfeit of women's cubicles, its fate appeared sealed. String out the bunting. Beat the drum. It was time for a rave.
Aah, but one should never underestimate the ability of a restaurant to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Before whingeing, I should say that the menu really did deliver on its promise. Those clams, £7.50 for a fair portion, were savoury and rich, their shells just begging to be sucked. Crispy squid rustled in the bowl and the prawns in garlic were as fresh as fresh could be. I loved the sweet, pink fillet of lamb in its slick of dark, tangy jus, and the aromatic bowl of chorizo with white beans, and the crisp patatas bravas with their pot of thick, herby tomato sauce. This is intelligent cooking which, despite the chef's training with luminaries such as Nico Ladenis, avoids the overwrought and instead makes a virtue of prime ingredients.
It was a shame then that once we had ordered, the kitchen and front of house were totally incapable of getting their act together. After we'd finished the squid, another waitress turned up with a second bowl. We said we'd already had it. She shrugged and said we might as well have this one, too. Next came the lamb and green salad, at the end of which we were offered the dessert menu when we still had four dishes to go. Off they went. Back they came with the patatas bravas, only to offer them to the table next to us who hadn't ordered them.
We pointed out we were still waiting for the chorizo and the cep croquetas. They came back with a plate of lamb chops and another of ham which they tried to put on the table, until we convinced them we hadn't ordered them. And so on. Is any of this excusable? Not when the bill, with surprising ease, crests the ton. They can argue they have only been open a few weeks, but who cares when the charges are at full tilt? What bugs me most about this is that I wanted so much to like Fino. It's a great concept. They've got a great chef. And they've got a truly great list of sherries. Sadly though, the night we went, what they didn't have was a grip.
