The origins of aperitivo are hotly debated; the vermouth
influenced aperitifs themselves seem to have started with Turin’s Cinzano
empire, but the culture and practice of today seems to be a Milanese
adaptation. Either way, who cares, it’s from up that way.
We Brits can certainly learn a lot from the characteristics
of Italian eating and drinking which aperitivo espouses:
That is is better to drink in moderation (prices are often doubled) and always with
food, to not only slow your drinking speed down but also to reduce the effects
of the booze itself. And that you should socialise and network with friends and colleagues after work, but
also return home at a decent time to your family (sober-ish) for dinner.
Then again, at age 25 (let alone 30) we aspire to have moved out, so La Dolce Vita isn't quite as enviable. Supposedly some old-school mammas in Italy complain it
spoils their kids’ appetites, but among the many possible booze-related
grumbles, it’s not so terrible. Skip the starters and have a quick nip yourself Mamma...
And so, onwards to Il Tempo, a bar on Chandos Place, very discreet
to the point of almost missing it despite having walked past one hundred times.
There are scattered aperitivo options in London, but despite some optimistic
predictions the craze hasn’t quite skyrocketed as thought. It certainly is more
spoken of, but there is some way to go yet.
Aperitivo is not great here. Firstly, there was no red vermouth which meant
no negronis or americanos; a heinous crime worthy of Mussolini-style hanging in Milan I’d wager. And secondly, the selection of food on offer was pitiful. Beyond
some postage stamp-sized morsels of peppers with a bland breadcrumb topping,
dry crackers and the odd olive, there was nothing. I didn’t have the heart to
photograph it as they’d have known quite obviously it was for scorn and shame
value.
There were upsides to this mature and cosy place. Our
Campari spritzes were huge, and the wine list looked impressive. We ordered a
mixed platter from the menu which was fantastic; beautifully fragrant
finocchiona, silky San Daniele and even better spicy and regular pecorinos, and
huge parmesan chunks. For £22 this was a great sharing dish.
Notably, most punters had ordered food off the menu and
ignored the aperitivo, and we exchanged some wistful, embarrassed looks about
the sad selection on the bar. They curiously have a gnocchi selection too – our
wild boar ragu was barely discernable and the two flecks of mince topping were
not worth the £8 at all. Avoid.
short changed on the cinghiale |
So the hunt for London’s aperitivo continues. Do not expect
anything close to Milan’s best at Il Tempo – that generosity of spirit has not
crossed the Alps just yet. The drinks are elevated to £10 but without any of
the treats this surcharge should accompany.
The bar itself is reasonable, the staff chirpy and it’s
worth a drink and snack if you can’t get into Terroirs perhaps, but I would draw
the line there. My Milan write-up
not so long back suggests where to find the best aperitivo and exactly how it
should be… come on London!
Know what you mean when it comes to a small buffet table. What a bummer. While apertif isn't about gorging, it still helps if there's at least a decent spread. Looking forward to you finding a good one in London!
ReplyDeleteNot just small, but terrible! I know it's not supposed to be full-on meal, but it should be decent at least.
ReplyDelete