I'VE LOST count of the number of two-for-one restaurant vouchers that have pinged into my e-mail inbox recently. It seems that, now we're cutting back on luxuries such as eating out, all the chain eateries are practically giving food away in order to
tempt customers through the door. As I'm not much of a pizza fan (if you are, check out the deals at Pizza Express), I was more drawn to a purse-friendly venture from Oloroso's "chef director" Tony Singh and entrepreneur Sir David Murray.
This 60-cover bistro, which features papier-maché flying pigs harnessed to the ceiling, has a dinner menu boasting three courses for £20 and lunch options with prices starting from £2.75.
There's also the bonus of a nostalgic glow for those who remember the much-loved Cosmo restaurant, which was latterly run by David Murray's son, Keith, and survived at this address for nearly 40 years. The food isn't in any way similar, but the grand, private members club decor seems to have been untouched (flying pigs notwithstanding) since its incarnation as that popular Italian restaurant.
It didn't take much to persuade my sister, Louisa, to accompany me there on a recent Friday evening – as, though some people call us cheapskates, we prefer to imagine that we're "bargain connoisseurs".
To keep costs low, the menu includes a couple of Dickensian-sounding starter options such as "soup of the day with ugly bread" (an amorphous, free-form loaf). However, I fancied something a little more substantial to begin, so I opted for the roast cauliflower. Junior, meanwhile, chose the kipper pâté on toast.
Our orders were taken by a dressed-down waiter, decked out in a style that fitted in with the front-room vibe of this place – where most of the young staff seemed to be wearing saggy pyjamas tucked into Ugg boots.
Our entrées soon arrived, and my little sister was happy with her no-frills choice. The two slices of crunchy homemade bread were malty, with a layer of rich, flavourful pâté.
My option was equally good – it featured harissa and pomegranate blended into a hot, sweet balsamic dressing, which was drizzled over a wedge of cauliflower and blanched leaves of savoy cabbage. It didn't look that bonny, but was curiously moreish and meaty.
The mains were as intriguing as the starters, and I had to ask our waiter for more details about a few of the options – such as, for instance, Jansson's temptation (a Swedish anchovy and potato gratin), and lamb ribs with cabbage cooked "Tenant's Street-style" (named after the road that Singh's granny lived on). The food list also features a couple of off piste options, if you're willing to pay a little bit more, and I thought that goose breast was worth an £8 supplement.
My sibling stuck to her thrifty principles and the prix fixe menu, opting for crispy rabbit.
I think I made the best choice. My helping of juicy, medium-rare meat was roosting on a nest of smooth mash and sweet red cabbage – which wasn't sticky, as advertised, but was yummy anyway.
My dining partner had turned into a bunny boiler at this point – she wasn't quite as sold on her main. This featured large chunks of rabbit meat croquettes, each of which contained a chunky bone. It tasted hearty, but she complained that it was "a little dry" – even a delicious accompaniment of cumin-spiced potato and a forest-green salsa verde, which was heaving with plump caperberries, didn't provide quite enough moisture.
After that so-so course, Louisa was keen to go out with a bang, so chose the mysterious sounding Tony's Trolley (£6 supplement) to finish, while I went for the baked Alaska. While waiting for our puds to land, we sipped our glasses of Teneka 2005 Chardonnay (£20 a bottle) – the cheapest option on a wine menu that includes bin ends from Sir David's Wine Importers.
My dessert was smashing, featuring, as it did, a toasted puff of meringue with a warm heart of lemon curd, quirkily packed into a Scotch pie shell. My sister's choice turned out to be even more of a winner as, before we knew it, Singh had rolled a souped-up Hostess trolley to our table, mumbled something about a safety certificate and started cooking crêpe Suzette.
A bit of everything was bunged into her hotchpotch pancake – Grand Marnier, citrus peel, pine nuts, chocolate drops, marinated apples – while chef asked if we'd enjoyed our previous course of "Kentucky-fried rabbit", which, it turned out, had been designed as a homage to that popular fast food staple.
The result of this demo was a boozy crêpe that was saturated with liqueur – in fact, we could only manage a few bites before our heads were spinning. Still, it was tasty and the £6 supplement was well worth it, if only for Singh's entertaining banter.
It seems that, unlike many successful chefs, he's unpretentious, down-to-earth and witty – just like the food here, which is what makes a visit to this place so much fun. As long as you can handle waiting staff in civvies and a few flying piggies, I'd suggest that you visit this bistro for quirky comfort food at prices that aren't quite Bogof (buy one get one free) – but almost.
