The bias in reviewing free dinners is not just the quid pro quo element – the PR scratches your back with a free dinner and you scratch theirs with a generous review – but also the balance between price and enjoyment. When you eat a good restaurant meal with a significant price tag the pleasure from the lovely food is balanced out by the unlovely cost.
I say this because a few times a year I get taken out for dinner for my birthday or otherwise and I worry that maybe I overrate these restaurants because I never see the bill.
All of this is preamble to me saying that I had a fantastic birthday dinner at Londrino, where food feels uncomplicated and part of a long tradition (in this case Portuguese), but at the same time novel and unexpected. However, it’s expensive – I’d guess we spent £80-100 a head, though that included the equivalent of four courses and madeira to top off the wine.
Londrino’s menu is, along with so many modern European restaurants in London, designed for sharing. They’ll ‘talk you through’ the menu, but it’s pretty intuitive: bread, snacks, regular starters, proper mains. There’s no reason why you’d actually have to share; equally, why wouldn’t you, since everything at Londrino is good and you get to taste more dishes.
We started with bread, obviously, which was the standard high quality sourdough you can get almost everywhere in town now. It came with a delicious cultured butter that was clearly deeply fermented, with whey, brown butter, and yeasty flavours, and bright yellow in colour – reminding you that ‘culturing’ and ‘fermenting’ are just controlled rottenness.
Next was cabbage with black garlic crisps. Black garlic is garlic cooked over several weeks to make it extremely sweet, slightly tart, and a deep Maillard reaction black. I’d say that the black garlic crisps could have been even more black garlicky, but the cabbage was just the right level of tender.
Then came sardine tartare on sourdough crispbreads. This divided us – half thought it was among the best dishes of the night, and half thought that the deep seawater-seaweed flavour was a bit too much.
Roast chestnut, ceps (porcini mushrooms), and kale, recommended by the waiter as one of his favourite dishes, and unpictured because the gathered diners were wolfing things down faster than I could set up pictures of them, was perhaps too small to share between five and each get a balance of all the ingredients. But it tasted like Christmas, sweet from the chestnuts and savoury and moreish from the ceps.
Clams confounded expectations. They were silky, tender, and without any rubbery chew or bite – and where the sardine was far more fishy than we expected, here there was only the light seaside hint of the freshest seafood. The juice, although presumably just a simple concoction of parsley, garlic, butter and lemon, was even better, and I slurped it down directly from the bowl like a Japanese ramen aficionado.
Acorda & negi leeks was one of the many dishes we had to ask for clarification about. It turned out to be a blended mash – not necessarily in a bad way – of leeks and bread, beautifully presented with a shimmering halo of oil. It really needed more seasoning, but was otherwise okay.
As much as we had enjoyed the starters, the mains absolutely blew our minds. The steak was perfectly cooked to medium rare with a proper char, and clearly a well-aged bit of Denver, with all of those profound funky cheesy flavours. It came with chunks of kohlrabi (forgettable), a strange peanutty vanilla sauce that sort-of worked, and nicely contrasting slices of very lightly pickled and floppy-crunchy daikon.
The aged Peking duck was even better, with everyone calling it their favourite dish by this point of the meal. At the time I thought Peking referred to the breed of duck, rather than the preparation, but looking back I realise it was a ‘take’ on the classic Chinese dish, with pancakes made out of overcooked, squished up and refried sticky rice, spring onions, and black garlic in place of sweet fermented sauce (or hoi sin). Despite the name, the duck did not go through the traditional three day preparation process – it was just an expertly cooked duck breast, served it with crispy skin, melty fat underneath, and uniformly pink.
And then our third main, a 500g sharing serving of presa, a cut of pork from the shoulder that you eat like a steak. At £75, it may seem expensive, and it is. But Bisaro, like Iberico, is the wagyu of pork, and easily better than nearly every beef steak I’ve eaten in my life. 500g of chateaubriand at Hawksmoor would be £67.50, so it’s roughly comparable to other extremely high end meat options.
Either way, it produces a formidable steak: incredibly tender, slightly sweet, and clearly grilled over wood or charcoal such that the outside had a powerful smoky char. On the other hand it came with buttermilk-salsify chips, and while they provided a nice clean contrast to the meaty hunk of, well, meat, honestly I’d have preferred potato chips.
While the cheeses were just a nice selection of (probably) Neal’s Yard options, dessert was worth talking about. We ordered every single option, and they ranged from the familiar and straightforwardly delicious (pillowy brioche with crunchy sweetened hazelnuts and sour caramel), to the strange-but-enjoyable (intensely Japanese-tasting roasted amazake ice cream), to the bizarre-but-we-still-finished-it (beetroot ice cream, and an ice cream so smoky it was genuinely like inhaling from a cigar).
So I recommend Londrino. I had a lovely meal and a lovely evening. But it’s absolutely clear that for someone like me, this is never going to be somewhere that I go outside of special occasions and celebrations.
Rating: One medal.