Try very hard to imagine an exact mid-point between Michael Haneke’s ‘The White Ribbon’ and ‘Midsomer Murders’. You can’t do it, can you? Fortunately, you don’t need to because ‘Mayday’ has it covered. The claustrophobia and endless petty grievance of small-town life is exploited ruthlessly, but here, it’s viewed through twitching, middle-England curtains.
All crime drama archetype is here. There’s the Daily Mail-reading string-’em-up harridan; the outsider kid; the mid-life crisis widower with his taste for younger women; the hearty, ale-chugging would-be vigilante; the weirdo who lives in the woods – and amazingly, they’re all suspects. Young Hattie Sutton certainly amassed a lot of enemies for a 14-year-old. How this is going to play out is anyone’s guess, but we’re very hopeful that it’ll be great fun finding out. Phil Harrison
Lobos Meat & Tapas
Borough Market is hardly lacking in decent places to eat, but it’s also never been too rock ’n’ roll in the way that Soho or parts of east London are. The new Spanish restaurant Lobos – a moodily lit lair with a banging soundtrack – gives it some edge. The dining room creates a sense of anticipation: Steppenwolf’s ‘Born to Be Wild’ blares from the speakers, and there’s a ground-floor bar serving sherry, cava, cocktails and wines from the decent all-Spanish list. Upstairs the main dining area is a narrow, dimly lit tunnel with intimate cubbies for couples, bare filament bulbs sticking out of the walls, and trains rumbling overhead. It seems fitting for a restaurant whose name translates as ‘wolves’. The menu makes much of how the chefs use their instinct and acute senses to create dishes. Sadly, the plates we tried didn’t dazzle. A mini-tortilla, snug in its cast-iron frying pan, was far too dry. Migas – a simple Spanish recipe for leftover bread, served with morsels of bacon or chorizo and a fried egg – arrived slightly congealed and chewy rather than crisp. Presa ibérica – a shoulder cut of the Spanish pig that’s taking London by storm – was served sliced and disconcertingly rare, and bore none of the scars or flavour of the grill. We wished we’d plumped for the rib-eye steak with pan-fried foie gras, or perhaps the leg of Castilian milk-fed lamb, because fellow diners seemed perfectly content. ‘The wolf will always be evil if we only listen to Little Red Riding Hood’ rea
Venue says: “Sink your teeth into a carnivorous menu of meat and tapas beneath the railway arches leading into Borough Market.”