Hedgie Goes to Hoxton
Ambience
Cuisine
Cuisine
Service
Value for Money
Value for Money
advertisment
Related Content
- Hedgie Finds His Inner Ir.sh (01/04/2009)
- Hedgie Stays at The Halkin (29/04/2009)
- Hedgie Gets Playful at the Met (17/05/2009)
- Hedgie Hangs at Duke's (23/07/2009)
- Mestizo, This Time With Hedgie (26/08/2009)
Ms R can just remember when Hoxton was a place so feral you wouldn’t go there without an armed guide. Pop socks anyone? Of course, once the West London media contingent got excited about it - “Darling, I ventured to the other side today” - all that disappeared.
Hoxton’s maturity is not all bad. It means really good restaurants have opened up amongst the boring drinking dens populated by web designers. Hedgie’s maturity is an issue we shall discuss another time. He brought his passport with him.
“We’re only going to East London.”
“Is that near Iran?"
“No. Is that a cravat?”
“Yes. I want to look all arty.”
“Take it off. And you’re not lugging that Banksy book either.”
He sulked.
We went to Lena, a Sicilian restaurant, all white and green and full of light. I am always optimistic when the owner tells me his mother was an inspiration. Give me that instead of the tiresome PR line: “We want to attract a hip and exciting crowd.”
Lena is attracting people who understand that Italian food is not just one homogeneous cuisine, one big pasta dish. The food is fresh and sexy with well-defined flavours. Carpaccio is the smoked salmon of Italian restaurants - mostly served as an afterthought, it’s as good a test as any of seeing how much a restaurant pays attention. They did. And they do. It was a cut above the rest.
Hedgie’s scallops had jumped out of the sea to receive a blessing of wild garlic and oil. He said he could have eaten them again. We both eyed the beef filet with porcini, pears an parmesan, but thought we’d save it for an evening visit. The pasta and risotto list was impressive: they make the risotto from scratch, and I clocked the pasta with turnip tops, chili and pecorino for next time. I ended up having sea bass with green beans and lemon, the kind of simple dish Italians do better than anyone and they did. Hedgie was looking faint and needed iron so I ordered him the calves liver with fennel. “It will build you up,” I told him, “and make you strong.”
We drank a wonderful mid-priced Sicilian wine, a region that appears to be having its moment in terms of popularity right now with wine retailers noticeably featuring more of its produce. On the pricing note, Lena is perfectly pitched - mains averaging around £16 are very fair for this quality. The restaurant lists its food sources on the menu as well.
The pudding was one that shall go down in Ms R’s list of favourites (along with the yoghurt cake at London’s Moro restaurant). A golden cheesecake with a coarse crumb base it arrived with a spoonful of clear Limoncello to pour over it. After that there was no discussion. Make sure you order it or someone in your party does. It will obliterate all previous memories of what they call cheesecake.
A warm summer night, dinner at Lena and then a wander around the new mature Hoxton; I recommend it. This restaurant should become a London favourite and there will be something wrong if it doesn’t.
Speaking of something wrong, Hedgie had stepped out into the street and was looking for Banksy graffiti.
“Look there’s one,” he said.
“Those are lines on the road,” I said. “Come on, we’d better get you back to West London."
“We’re only going to East London.”
“Is that near Iran?"
“No. Is that a cravat?”
“Yes. I want to look all arty.”
“Take it off. And you’re not lugging that Banksy book either.”
He sulked.
We went to Lena, a Sicilian restaurant, all white and green and full of light. I am always optimistic when the owner tells me his mother was an inspiration. Give me that instead of the tiresome PR line: “We want to attract a hip and exciting crowd.”
Lena is attracting people who understand that Italian food is not just one homogeneous cuisine, one big pasta dish. The food is fresh and sexy with well-defined flavours. Carpaccio is the smoked salmon of Italian restaurants - mostly served as an afterthought, it’s as good a test as any of seeing how much a restaurant pays attention. They did. And they do. It was a cut above the rest.
Hedgie’s scallops had jumped out of the sea to receive a blessing of wild garlic and oil. He said he could have eaten them again. We both eyed the beef filet with porcini, pears an parmesan, but thought we’d save it for an evening visit. The pasta and risotto list was impressive: they make the risotto from scratch, and I clocked the pasta with turnip tops, chili and pecorino for next time. I ended up having sea bass with green beans and lemon, the kind of simple dish Italians do better than anyone and they did. Hedgie was looking faint and needed iron so I ordered him the calves liver with fennel. “It will build you up,” I told him, “and make you strong.”
We drank a wonderful mid-priced Sicilian wine, a region that appears to be having its moment in terms of popularity right now with wine retailers noticeably featuring more of its produce. On the pricing note, Lena is perfectly pitched - mains averaging around £16 are very fair for this quality. The restaurant lists its food sources on the menu as well.
The pudding was one that shall go down in Ms R’s list of favourites (along with the yoghurt cake at London’s Moro restaurant). A golden cheesecake with a coarse crumb base it arrived with a spoonful of clear Limoncello to pour over it. After that there was no discussion. Make sure you order it or someone in your party does. It will obliterate all previous memories of what they call cheesecake.
A warm summer night, dinner at Lena and then a wander around the new mature Hoxton; I recommend it. This restaurant should become a London favourite and there will be something wrong if it doesn’t.
Speaking of something wrong, Hedgie had stepped out into the street and was looking for Banksy graffiti.
“Look there’s one,” he said.
“Those are lines on the road,” I said. “Come on, we’d better get you back to West London."
Here Is The Writer : Ms Robinson
Ms Robinson was once a copywriter who wrote award winning ads and had eight hour lunches. Weary of the sex, glamour and lavish parties, she switched to corporate communications where she held the hands of executives and banned them from writing this execrable sentence: "In this ever changing world, the only constant is change itself." These days she writes for an increasing variety of people and has ghostwritten several books but if she told you who for, she'd have to kill you. Click here to read her blog, Woman of Experience.
view more articles by Ms Robinson
