Camino
Regent Quarter, King's Cross,
London W1 (08446 060 102)
Meal for two, including wine and service, £100
Early evening in the British summertime and rain pours from a sky the colour of tarnished silver. Buses splash passers-by with oil-slicked water and drunks hunker down on the pavement to shout back at the traffic. Coming to London's King's Cross for dinner suddenly seems like a bad idea. Mind you, within a year I'll be coming here for breakfast and lunch, too, when this newspaper group moves to a shiny building right in its heart, so I'd better get used to it. After being menaced at a cashpoint I turn around to face a huge purple hoarding, draped like a death shroud around a knackered old building. It carries one of the most optimistic slogans I have ever read: 'King's Cross - take another look.' Really? Must I? Oh well, if you insist. Nope. It doesn't look any better the second time.
Still, I have come here specifically to eat and that must say something interesting about what's happening to the area. Forward-thinking operators are clearly jumping in while the rents are relatively low, in the hope of grabbing market share before us fat-walleted journos arrive. Community leaders round here will no doubt point out that a few gussied-up food outlets do not regeneration make, and it's undoubtedly true. Hoxton, a little way to the east, is infested with trendy bars and restaurants but, as the Shoreditch Trust will tell you, the district remains one of the poorest in western Europe. It seems that fancy new restaurants in run-down areas can become part of a parallel but entirely separate economy.
In the case of Camino, a new Spanish restaurant, this is physically true as well. It occupies a site in a retail-leisure development called the Regent Quarter, entirely hidden from view within one King's Cross block. It is smart. It is shiny. It is mostly empty. Still, I don't think it's the lack of punters which is draining the joint of atmosphere. It's the look of the place, too. One of my companions says it reminds him of Spanish motorway services, and if I found this space - with its shiny varnished wood-panelled bits, its terracotta-tiled floor and its artfully constructed glass dome - off the M6, I would probably be delighted. But hey, we're in the Regent Quarter and I am expecting more.
That goes for the food, too. I am expecting a lot. Certain gastro-trends are more robust than others and the cult of Spain seems to have endured for the best part of a decade. Cheerleaders such as the restaurant Moro and the ingredients supplier Brindisa, next door to each other in Exmouth Market, have encouraged the worship of the trinity of jamon, chorizo and paprika. But the cult has reached a certain maturity and quality product is now easily available in this country, if at a fearsome price. It is not enough to have the great jamon Iberico on the menu. At £14 for a modest plateful you have to know how to hand-slice it thin, so that the delicious fat can melt on the tongue. Here it is just a little too thick, a little too clumsy, and that sums up Camino. It is all so nearly, but not quite.
We found things to like. An escabeche of mackerel brought a plate of crisp-skinned, rich-fleshed fish in a vibrant spicy marinade, and the slices of grilled Asturian smoked chorizo had a pleasing pungency. We also liked a side dish of sauteed potatoes with green and red peppers topped by a fried egg, the yolk broken tableside by the waiter.
But other things were underwhelming. The menu, which is a complicated fold-away affair, is written as if it were a map, with dishes occupying various locations. It manages to disguise the fact that it is very Ronnie Corbett (extremely short). There are three or four changing specials every day and only four permanent main courses. Three of those are steak, and one of these is a 750gm Charolais rib-eye cooked on the bone for two. It costs £33 and was... fine. But £33 is a lot of money for fine. The problem here was the seasoning of the all-important exterior. A good steak demands attention to detail and this hadn't received it. Another main of lamb chops was equally a study in culinary beige.
We finished with a very dry almond tart which cried out either for a dollop of cream or to be taken away, and a chocolate fondant which had been cooked in too hot an oven, so that the crust was burnt and the centre too runny rather than integrated into the whole. The crema Catalana had a good custard but a shell of black sugar which, like me by the end of this meal, was terribly bitter. The truth is I wanted Camino to be good for purely selfish reasons. It would be great to have a really good Spanish restaurant on the office doorstep, as a refuge from the murder and the vice. Sure, I may well come here again, but it will only be out of laziness. As endorsements go they don't get much more limp than that.
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