Sasha Arms visits José Pizarro’s new restaurant, where her love of the Bermondsey Street king’s culinary creations reaches a higher level.
Photos: Paul Winch-Furness www.paulwf.co.uk
I won’t lie: I do love José Pizarro. His infectious and almost impossibly convivial demeanour has undoubtedly contributed to the burgeoning kudos and village community of London’s Bermondsey Street. José’s ever-presence in his inaugural solo tapas bar, José, and now his brand new restaurant a few doors down, is both endearing and widely respected. Not to mention the fact that he chitchats with all his patrons and greets you like a long lost member of the family if you happen to have met before, putting other big name and small fry chefs to shame.
These characteristics alone would be enough for me to frequent José Pizarro’s establishments like a genuine regular. Throw Spanish flavours like you’ve never experienced before into the mix and there’s no doubt you’ll be back for more. The problem with José’s tapas bar was that people went expecting to lazily sit through rounds and rounds of delectable tapas – like they do at La Tasca (although minus the delectable bit) or any other tapas bar that’s sold its soul for the average British punter. José never intended his tapas bar to be like that. In Spain, tapas bars are drinking holes with bar snacks to accompany. This is something that many Brits have still failed to get their heads around at José (the tapas bar), to whom drinking with snacks means a pint of beer and a packet of pork scratchings (or dry roasted peanuts on a blow-the-budget day). Arriving in their hordes, confusion reigned when all they got was standing room by an old sherry barrel. Not that it stopped them from coming back, of course. Far from it. But that’s the José Pizarro effect for you.
Pizarro (the restaurant) was always supposed to bridge that gap. José would have his bar and his restaurant on the same stretch of road and people would be able to get the full José Pizarro experience. While it remains to be seen whether or not people will in fact float between the two (the tapas bar still seems to be far more heaving than the restaurant), there’s no doubt that José has got it spot on once again. The glass-panelled, double shop front window is like the proud showpiece of a boutique, although the pièce de résistance of this one is food rather than fashion. Inside, the wooden clad interior feels disconcertingly like a sauna, but the oddly Finnish feel quickly disappears as you spot plump jars of olives in mesh cupboards, a farmhouse table spanning the length of one half of the L-shaped restaurant, and José Pizarro’s head bobbing behind a row of diners watching him at close proximity at his signature open kitchen bar stools.
Photos: Paul Winch-Furness www.paulwf.co.uk
The menu at Pizarro is no out-of-control beast, but a double-sided A5 affair of seasonal dishes. A lover of all things locally sourced as well as in season, José is Maltby Street Market’s biggest fan and his daily changing menu reflects this culinary diligence. No one makes croquetas like José Pizarro: all at once melt-in-your-mouth velvet, feather-light and infused with morsels of jamón. Another must for this time of year is the spicy chickpea soup topped with chorizo. It’s all beany and effortlessly smooth with a smoky sensation provided by hunks of fried, and pleasantly tender, chorizo. Moving onto the main course, the ibérico pork is a must if it’s on the menu. Packed with an acorny richness, José serves it rare with mashed potato and piquillo pepper. If José can concoct such a wintry culinary haven at this time of year, who knows what he’ll pull out of the bag when the more balmy days more in-tune with his home country come along. Dessert this time around was chocolate, toast and caramel ice cream. Nowhere near as descriptive as the full-bodied and luscious pudding that lay in wait. A crunch and hit of salt from a thin sliver of fresh toasted bread, the thickly beaten monument of chocolate, ending with the cold sweet swoon of a caramel ice cream you’ll never forget. José, José, José…don’t do this to me: I shall be fat and quickly broke before I know it.
Authentic Spanish food doesn’t come cheap in London, and Pizarro is no different. For superior quality, a distinguished atmosphere and the community ambience rarely felt in London, however, Pizarro is unrivalled. As long as more people venture out of the safe, if packed, confines of José (the tapas bar) and head on down to Pizarro (the restaurant), only enticingly gratifying cuisine and the temptation to break January diet resolutions await.
