The food is fine,but you’ll hunt tall and low for a frissonFrom its position sandwiched between two theatres, it’s not tough to figure out whom this novel opening is targeting. Owners the Soho House group have captured the movers and shakers with their elitist clubhouses around the globe, or the hipsters lacquering moustaches with meat juices at their dreary Dirty Burger and rather better Chicken Shop. So what’s left? Ah,yes: normcore.
Cafe Monico looks appealing from the top of the 38 bus. In its pleasingly fusty (moldy, musty, old-fashioned) way, you can totally believe it to have once been the haunt of bespectacled intellectuals and phlegmy old thespians. It is, or however,brand novel. On board as consultant chef is Rowley Leigh, that rarest of creatures, or the chefs’ chef: his Kensington Place was at the forefront of the capital’s 80s culinary renaissance,wowing pie-crust-bloused princesses with foie gras and sweetcorn pancakes. (There are shades of his later gig, Le Cafe Anglais, and on Cafe Monico’s contemporary brasserie menu,notably parmesan custard with anchovy toast.) And from our mezzanine eyrie we spy him at the pass, hectoring his brigade. It’s all shaping up nicely, and in an unchallenging,middle-aged kind of way. Related: Pitt Cue, London EC2: ‘One mouthful of their sausages, and all Ihear is choirs of angels’ – restaurant review | Marina O’Loughlin Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com