Listen,
The critics are raving and it seems this place is the talk of the aforementioned.
If you've done yourself up to the nines in order to visit, maybe relax because you're going to be outshone.
I first came across Chef Steve Parle in the very cool Dock Kitchen in deepest Ladbroke Grove. There was a laid back style there that is fully in your face here. It's nodding firmly to the 70s but this isn't the 70s of power outages, flares and football hooligans. It's a more fun and fantastic affair, part Italian, part Abba, part Space 1999. Curved plastics, textured tiles, sumptuous maroon and vibrant green, beautifully laid wooden floors and nicely crafted tables beneath glass tiles. If Dock Kitchen was achingly cool without trying to be, Town is trying and succeeding which must be even harder. High octane elegance and there's no doubt you've gone out out tonight.
That there's plenty to admire in this big bustling room is lucky because getting served takes an age.
What they've spent on decor, they have clawed back with the wage bill. Too many customers and too few servers. None in any way rude but plenty who are doing this for the first time and are not afraid to show it. Our guy danced between tables, leaving, returning, leaving again, coming back once he'd remembered what he'd left for, externalising his internal monologue as he did so. He operated in some sort of perpetual catch up cycle. If he thought waiting tables was going to be a walk in the park, we caught him in full on reality mode.
Such is Steve Parle's cooking that plenty of dishes needed a bit of explanation. To be fair, our waiter really tried hard here and had boned up enough to know that Mangalitsa was a pig and Gilda was some olive and anchovy concoction. I stumped him with the wine order though. "Gavi Di Whaaaaa?" I could've ordered Newton's Calculus. It was nothing if not honest and we all had a good old chortle as I clumsily explained it was one of the wines on the lovely list we had been furnished with. I hope he's there when we next go. He was completely overwhelmed but a pleasant chap and that covers all ills.
Our pudding came delivered by someone who could have been on skates. In one swift movement he approached, got the plate down and departed. Over his shoulder fully 3 meters after the expert delivery, he informed us of our delivery. "Panna cotta". If this had been an ice dance the marks would have been high. Was he English? He could up the medal count at the next Winter Olympics.
None of this detracted from a wonderful night. In fact it added to it. They are going for it big time here and as they find their feet they are going to be rushed off them at the same time.
Food was excellent. Interesting, thoughtful, like everything I've ever eaten by Chef Parle. Wine cured wildfarm beef came as a pile of mini cubes which we happily picked away at. They were smothered in a smooth sauce with black garlic and shiitake. The beef wasn't fillet but it was better for the texture. I don't know what regenerative farming is but apparently it's one of Parle's passions. If regenerative farming is what made these cubes of beef taste so good, I'm also passionate about regenerative farming.
Cornish Cod Crudo is best described as Cod ceviche in a soup of vinegar, basil oil and grapefruit with some thin slices of winter tomato. The cod was firm and the sauce was deliciously drinkable. It looked lovely for as long as it stayed on the plate.
Bone marrow ragu had depth and the pasta was almost as meaty as the sauce. Cod and mussel curry was full of flavour but carefully put together so actually felt quite delicate for such robustly flavoured thing.
Food every bit as cool and fun as the surroundings.
There's an impressive bar which is begging to have cocktails drunk at it. In fact I'd defy anyone to turn up here and not order a cocktail. It's that kind of place. Drury Lane may not be the heart of Covent Garden but Town has tipped up and I don't doubt it will drag a few away from the Piazza and its environs. It's the place to be and we can see why. read more