Dogs love BBQs.
They wait in gleeful expectation for inevitable clumsiness which will lead to lunch. The resignation as a party goer sees their tilted plate resulting in their food being pulled down inexorably by gravity is greeted with joy by the dog.
I felt like a human at Bancone. Perched at the rather uncomfortable counter, I explained to the waitress that it was cramping my style. When I tried to suggest that there were tables free that I would be happy to occupy, I was told in no uncertain terms that I could not have a table even though I had booked 2 weeks earlier. I did wonder if this was to be a repeat of my experience at Kiln where my dining companion and I were subject to much discrimination. To avoid this situation, I had brought along my native (Caucasian British) friend. Unfortunately in this case, he wasn’t a comely woman. Yet such discomfort aside, we tried to enjoy the food.
Silk handkerchiefs, walnut butter & confit egg yolk. Delicate pasta sheets, smooth egg smothered in butter with nuts, a delight as it slid down. Here I had an epiphany in food akin to the pici cacio e pepe I had at Padella. I was reminded again what heights pasta could reach.
Smoked eel & potato ‘mezzaluna’ ravioli with watercress. Less exciting, or perhaps I was blinded by the handkerchiefs that had come before, this was alright but nothing to write home about. Interesting but it didn’t seem to have the oompf of the previous dish.
Primitivo, juniper and bay braised rabbit with tagliatelle. Again, it was the pasta here which shone with almost inner life as if it was hiding a buried treasure within. Delicately cooked, avoiding the nuking that is apparent in my own cooking, with meaty rabbit (maybe this is where Peter went), this was a great filling dish.
The food arrived rather quickly and we also obliged their speediness by taking our leave within 30 minutes. This abrupt departure was aided by my inability to enjoy my food and loiter a bit over things when I am constantly been bumped, sidled or otherwise fighting off leg cramps (and lacklustre service). It kind of puts a downer on the food. So even though the pasta tried hard to bring up the meal, being told in no uncertain terms that I did not deserve a table was particularly irritating. Given such remarks, it might have been better to be a dog. Life might be more comfortable that way and I could just do what I wanted and pretend not to understand what people are saying. If only life could be so simple.
A quiet eating 7/10.
Dinner (1.5 courses) was GBP17 excluding drinks and service.
38 William IV Street,
London WC2N 4DD