Restaurants

By Andrew Staffell

Oops wasn't the obvious contender for this week's main review. Me, me, me, screamed extravagant new W1 members' club and restaurant Vanilla, with a press release hyping its 'ultra futuristic fit out', 'colour-changing LED lighting', 'crystal chandeliers', 'superb food' etc, all adding up to an effect that's 'out of this world'. My oh my. Well, we had some good cocktails and quite a nice dinner there, but it's all a bit overblown and outmoded, really.

Shuffling about in the corner, meanwhile, was a restaurant so humble its name is practically an apology. No PR fanfare here; nor, to be honest, did we expect much. Oops's neighbours are the faded bistros and trattorias of Covent Garden, which process theatregoers and tourists with their loveless cooking and perfunctory service. We mused uncomfortably on the Spanish equivalent, and thought of chewy calamari, vinegary Rioja, matador posters and acoustic guitars. And the name just seemed to pave the way for a flop.

So much for preconceptions. Next time we need a sit-down meal around here, Oops will be on our very short shortlist. It's a demure little place, with dark wood and tasteful artwork lending the modest decor a little sophistication. And not a colour-changing LED in sight.

The cooking strikes a similar balance. Most dishes are simple, restrained marriages of fresh ingredients - good, old-fashioned tapas, in other words - though there's the occasional nod to modern Spain's more ambitious techniques, such as blue cheese ice cream. Classics on the menu include marinated anchovies, clams in white wine, Spanish omelette, Galician octopus, Jabugo ham, chorizo in cider, and so on.

There was virtually nothing to fault in our selection. A prime lamb cutlet was served rare, just as requested. A little pot of jijas - pan-fried minced pork with garlic and sweet paprika - was another plate of good meat, sensitively handled. The escalivada (marinated roast vegetables) worked well on the side.

More involved (though not much) were four grilled baby squid served on a bed of trinxat (a vegetable purée typical of Catalonia), and marinated red peppers with a potato and cod mousse and a red-pepper coulis: a Basque recipe. Both were outstanding - and probably the most complex dishes on the menu.

There's an obvious advantage to keeping things simple when a good cross-section of your clientele will be clock-watching. But that doesn't mean corners are being cut here. In fact, the cold dishes are arguably the most interesting. The selections of Spanish charcuterie and cheese are second to none in London, even giving importers Brindisa a run for their money. We ate some slices of a sumptuous pork salami with walnuts and truffles, from a list of 14 sliced meats; there are also ten cheeses. The region of Spain where each was produced is noted on the menu - a nice touch.

The wine list is being taken very seriously - possibly too seriously. In the margin next to each dish are two or three numbers corresponding to the 40 bins available. There's a full-page breakdown detailing which Spanish wines work well with different foods; each wine has a paragraph of florid description. The diligence is laudable, but a bit misguided: theatregoers will barely have time to weigh up all the advice, and the numbers on the menu are confusing and contradictory. Also, there aren't any sherries - which completely baffled us.

The simple explanation for these little incongruities is that the owners, brothers Patrizio and Francesco Rizzoli, are learning on the job. Though they have plenty of experience between them (Francesco as a chef in Spain, Patrizio as a manager in London), Francesco admits they didn't do much market research before opening. In fact, they just recreated Francesco's former restaurant in Barcelona - with the intention of ironing out the creases as they go along.

As long as the menu remains as interesting as this, and the cooking as careful, they should pull it off. Sherries, we're told, will be coming soon. As for the name - well, a little market research wouldn't have gone amiss there. Oops, indeed.

Time Out Issue 1932: August 29-September 4 2007