Telephone: 020-7438 8052
Address: Crown Plaza Hotel, 19 New Bridge Street, London EC4.
Open: Mon-Fri, 12 noon-10pm (scheduled to open for Saturday dinner in late spring).
Rating: 16.5/20
I sort of gave up on Italian restaurants in London after reviewing Manicomio, a decent enough place, but not one that served food remotely reminiscent of the dishes I had eaten in Italy with so much pleasure. And then along comes Refettorio, the latest venture of that tousle-headed maestro, Giorgio Locatelli.
Locatelli is undeniably Italian, and his knowledge of and passion for the produce and cooking of his home country is extraordinary. The dishes that he serves at Locanda Locatelli reflect those enthusiasms. To some extent, they also reflect his own training in French restaurants and the tastes of his London customers, for dishes that are sauced (a French trait) and bolstered by vegetables (an English one). But he is a chef of genius, so he can pull off those tricks and still remain consistent to the spirit of Italian cooking in a way that lesser beings can't.
So, that brings us to Refettorio. As the name suggests, it is aiming for a far simpler ideal than you'll find at Locanda. This extends to the design, which in a lumpen kind of way does have something of the refectory about it. Ersatz mahogany-brown has become the latest cliché for London restaurants, making them gloomy, depressing places in which to eat. And that is my only serious complaint about Refettorio. Luckily, all sense of encroaching gloom is banished by sharp service, a get-stuck-in wine list and the food. The food is delectable - plain but delectable, plain and delectable. Take your choice.
That is not to say that it's without refinement, but the refinement lies in the sourcing of the ingredients and then serving them up with as little mucking about as possible. So, a plate of salumi is just that - coils, waves, slices of the stuff, pink as coral, burgundy as wine, flecked with white fat, lacy with white fat, or consisting entirely of white fat. Oh yes, it is served with bread, olives and cold cicoria , too, but then you'd get very nearly the same thing in Italy.
Where Refettorio differs from a restaurant in Molise, say, is that in Italy you would get only the ham or salumi of the region - one of the practices that gives Italian cooking its great quality. At Refettorio, you get a choice of 25 salumi, all of impeccable artisanal provenance, for £2.50-£5 a portion, from eight regions. Equally to the point, there seems to be a quick enough turnover to prevent the salumi drying out or oxidising, and so losing the fresh bloom that makes them so, well, delectable.
The display of cheeses is equally saliva-inducing. In my travels up Italy, on the whole I found the cheeses rather boring. Having tip-toed around some of the 26 on offer here (£2.50-£3.50 a portion), I have had to reconsider my opinion. And, before we leave the antipasti, the fritto misto of artichokes, squid and prawns came in a batter that was closer to tempura than the soggy wallpaper you often get in Italy.
The primi piatti - that is, the risotto and pasta dishes - show the same advantages that a high-class kitchen and understanding can bring to these routine dishes. The right pasta gets to go with the right sauce. There's no silly mixing and matching. Zuppa di ceci e vongole and ravioli scamorza affumicata e pomodori secchi were both impeccable. The secondi piatti , fegato di vitello alla griglia con cipolle rosse and vitello tonnato, were equally good. The only real difference between this and the food in a top-class trattoria is in the display. The plates are fancier and the way the food is presented is more metropolitan London than roadside Reggio di Calabria.
Of course, the prices aren't roadside Reggio, either. The last lunch I had at Refettorio cost £88.50, or £62.50 for food and £26 for liquid refreshment. That clearly takes lunch out of the low-budget category, but why should good food or great ingredients come cheap? Producing them is time-consuming, hard work, and requires a degree of passion and dedication few can lay claim to.
There is an argument put forward by Slow Food that products of this kind should become more expensive, rather than less. That way, we might treasure them more and encourage their survival. Refettorio is a splendid vindication of that argument.
