PLACES / FOOD
& DRINK
Swing a right down an alleyway opposite Hamley’s on Regent Street New Burlington Place
Except, that is, for new Italian fine dining restaurant and wine
bar, Frescobaldi. Despite an almost complete lack of passing footfall, little
launch fanfare, and having only being open for two weeks, it was almost full
late Saturday lunch time.
People knew it was on this invisible road, and were coming for it
specifically.
If the name rings a bell, you may have seen their restaurant on
the lower ground floor of Harrods, their branded Laudemio olive oil sold at
Fortnum & Mason, or come across their outposts in Florence
and at Rome Fiumicino airport.
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| Photo: Leyla Kazim |
Frescobaldi
– one of Europe ’s oldest and finest wine-producing
families
Their major claim to fame though, and the focus around which this
new restaurant is based, is that the Frescobaldi family produce wine and have
done for a very long time indeed.
It’s an involvement that dates back centuries. During the Renaissance,
we’re told they traded bottles with Michelangelo for works of art, and they
were major financiers to the Kings of England, with receipts signed personally
by that great wine quaffer Henry VIII.
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Most of their nine estates can be found in the hills around
Florence and Siena, and a range of wines from the likes of Mormoreto (a
single-vineyard cru of Castello di Nipozzano) to the flagship Frescobaldi cuvée
(Brunello di Montalcino Castelgiocondo Riserva) take pride of place on the new
restaurant’s menu.
Renowned
Turkish restaurateur Levent Büyükuğur partners the Frescobaldis
To launch this first independent site in the UK
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| Two of the Frescobaldi partners: Sanjay Nandi & Levent Büyükuğur of new hospitality company Good Food Society |
They’ve done very well with the interiors. A great wall of glass
for the frontage, striking frescoes of Italian renaissance characters painted
onto the tiled walls, a great central column with shelves housing Tuscan
paraphernalia and bottles of wine poured by the glass - it’s a handsome space.
At Frescobaldi, you’ll find the largest menu you’ve ever seen – in
size rather than content: open, it’s almost as wide as the wingspan of an
albatross! The extra manoeuvrability the broad and comfortable chairs provide
are as good for big bottoms as they are for accommodating the perusal of the
massive things; best to read them turned sideways for the sake of a smashed
wine glass.
The
menu
In it, a confident and concise menu with less than a handful of entries under each section: antipasti, carpacci, tartare, primi piatti (pasta), to share (salads, cheese and charcuterie), secondi di pesce (fish mains), seconde di cane (meat mains), contorni (sides).
Bread was great and made on site, the soft and salty focaccia
still warm from the oven, crisp Sardinian flatbread entirely void of moisture,
and the basket comes with a bottle of that Laudemio olive oil to glug at your
pleasure.
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| Photo: Leyla Kazim |
There were rippled sheets of seabass carpaccio with pink peppers,
soy sauce and fresh curly celery strips, that could have done with a touch of
astringency (£16). The lactating Puglian burrata, with rocket pesto and ripe
tomatoes, was just about the creamiest I’ve encountered (£12.50).
I thought the marinated black Angus beef with lentils and
courgettes would come as a salad with cooked slices of steak, and I expected it
to be dull. It was actually like a plate of joyous lemony bresaola, with a
little gathering of fantastically dressed firm green lentils and tiny cubes of
courgette (£15).
The wide ribbons of pappardelle
with the veal cheek ragu were gorgeous – great bite and deep yellow from yolk.
The pappy but pleasing sauce, quite sweet from the meat, needed the contrasting
texture it got from a flourish of small crisp rosemary croutons scattered
before serving – very good (£15).
There were small and soft dimpled gnocchi with porcini mushrooms
and an earthy umami sauce, although I do like my dumplings sporting the marks
of a longer fry (£15). The ossobucco
was a loaded plate of flaking veal, flanked by a bank of unctuous white
polenta, and with a great slug of marrow that slipped out of the bone after
just a little persuasion (£23).
“Tiramisu
came in an unusual format…It was cleared in the same amount of time it took me
to register it had arrived”
Tiramisu came in an unusual format, a mound of yellow sponge,
coloured from extra yolk I presume, with a moat of coffee sauce and bitter
toasted beans. It was cleared in the same amount of time it took me to register
it had arrived (£9).
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| Photo: Leyla Kazim |
They've been smart in making more of their wines accessible to
diners, by offering small and reasonably priced pre-grouped wine flights. You
get a taste of three glasses (125ml each), and there are different groups of
three to choose from, ranging from £16 - £68. I had the Red Flight “Sangiovese”
at £21.
Two female maître d's were wearing the same sophisticated
monochrome dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a cocktail bar, and
service was charming and very attentive, if a little too enthusiastic at the
beginning of our early lunch reservation, when we were the only occupied table.
Fellow diners ranged from groups of American visitors, to
distinguished and impeccably dressed Italian matriarchs enjoying a girly lunch,
to young couples, to a Turkish family, which may have been a Mr Büyükuğur
influence.
Like I said, I don’t know how these people knew it was there. I
did, because my visit was in the capacity of critiquing it for the consumer
publication for British Turks & Turkophiles, T-VINE (thanks to Mr Büyükuğur’s
involvement). But know about it, people seem to. And now you do too.
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