Bar Tozino

With neither a brioche bun or chashu slice in sight, Bar Tozino has burst onto the Maltby Street scene with huge success. Upon my visit at Saturday lunchtime it was absolutely rammed, with many more retreating upon peeking through the door, defeated and crestfallen. For the lucky ones, a real treat awaits.

Cava at a mere £4 a glass was light, fruity and yet complex, tasting closer to a prosecco and unlike many rough, astringent cavas I’ve had over the years. The food, as becomes immediately apparent when looking around you (here meat is indeed curtains) is focused on the exalted jamon iberico.

Cured ham hasn’t been a luxury ingredient in the UK for many a year, and having been wrapped around countless melons, sitting within limp paninis or adorning overpriced pizzas drowning in rocket, isn’t as excited as perhaps it once was. But as a luxury foodstuff, the Spanish have elevated the best legs to a crazy premium and prices of the best iberico can be outrageous.

Bar Tozino succeeds in enabling the best to be affordable and accessible. The menu features a selection of four hams ranging between £5-15 for a small plate, with sourdough con tomate. We had the Huelva bellota (which means acorn-fed, the best) and it was smooth, deep and frankly beautiful. You know it’s special when you’re even craving just the silky fat.

There are a few obvious menu bedfellows to the ham, such as some absolutely delicious acorn-fed chorizo (£5) and cheeses such as manchego or more pan con tomate, but there is also the odd surprise, such as the delicate egg atop bread and a ham and chorizo mix, served in a tapa bowl.

The interior is dark and sultry (or dingy if you don’t like railway arches) but it’s a superb use of the space, especially for the functional hanging of many ham legs overhead. There is a deli counter and separate menu for ‘take away’ which reminded me of the ham ‘bar’ at Iberico on Great Portland Street.

The vibe is pretty riotous – this is not a place for the shy and retiring. It’s loud, crowded and fairly uncomfortable (three types of stools ensure an inconsistent level of comfort – avoid the tiny ones) with staff clamouring to fit through the crowds and deliver the coveted boards and drinks.

Bar Tozino was fantastic, and possibly a victim of its own early success. I was told that later in the afternoon (once most of Maltby/Ropewalk has died down) it’s a lot more relaxed and people settle down for a good ham and booze session, rather than the flighty visit we had. 

I’ll be back again and again – the food was unadulterated pleasure, the booze great and you can easily imagine being in somewhere in Barcelona's Born or Raval districts. I'm extremely grateful for something unique on 2012-13 London’s bandwagon-y, predictable foodie landscape. Not to mention adding to quite an already impressive Mediterranean cluster of Zucca, Jose, Pizarro and Antico.

Here’s hoping for more openings in 2013 with as much originality, authenticity and flair.

 

Gecko Beach Club, Formentera

Gecko Beach Club is probably the best known hotel in Formentera. Perhaps Kate Moss stayed there once, that usually does it. They do have good PR, although there aren’t hundreds admittedly.

The island has always been a big of an enigma for many - (is it in the Canaries? can you even stay the night there?) - which has handily kept it relatively crowd-free for its aficionados. Only accessible via quick ferry from Ibiza, the lack of an airport has kept development low. Admittedly more is being built, but it’s all relative to what was there before (not much) and the paradisaical feel of the island endures away from the port.

The hotel at Gecko is a refurbishment of a previously unlovely hotel, and traces of the quite ugly or should I say functional, building remain. The beauty is in the public space. The restaurant and veranda look onto beautiful gardens, now replete with a pool and pool bar, and the sea is all of ten steps away. The furniture is designed for lounging, and the Ibicencan ethno-lite chill out music emanating from hidden speakers in the greenery creates a genuine calm. 

It’s completely unforced and the concept of having nothing to do except relax and live your days slowly eventually does permeate this itchy city-dweller. I usually take about four days to forget work and genuinely kick back, but at Gecko it happens within the hour.

The bar and restaurant area cater for refined tastes (the wine list is quite something) but are also completely unpretentious. On the particular day below, the chicken Caesar salad and spaghetti pomodoro were exactly what the doctor ordered, but cuisine ranges from some Med-Asian fusion (I know, but it’s actually very good) to burgers and club sandwiches. Cocktails are camp, kitsch and ridiculous, exactly what you want from a beach club.

 

Everything is engineered so that you don’t need to leave, and you really don’t except when it comes to beach time. The Migjorn Beach sweeps along Formentera’s south coast, but the particular strip by Gecko isn’t the best bit. There is a boardwalk which leads to a fantastic beer and pizza shack along the beach, but the best part is much further east, close to Flipper & Chiller – a showy beach bar.

Or even better, head to Ses Illetes at the north of the island (about a ten minute drive from Gecko) and you could be rewarded with scenes like this, with water so perfect and clear, you can hardly believe it was a two hour flight, rather than twelve.

Gecko’s rooms aren’t the most exciting, they’re functional and lacking a little in flair but with the superb lounging space and Formentera’s pine-scented landscape and coastline, it doesn’t matter one bit.

A Guide to Eating in Ibiza

Ibiza is many things to many people. A glance around the airport, probably only where the twain shall meet, certainly gives an indication of the breadth of people, pursuits and pleasures on this island. The perils of rubbish tourist food loom everywhere, so here are a few places located in towns, country or by the beach where you can do a little better, based on a recent visit.

Ibiza’s diversity in the summer is reflected in the eating options available. Ibicencan food is quite different to mainland Spanish food, which of course vastly differs in itself. Even as a quasi-Catalan culture and so close to Palma, tapas is not intrinsically popular as a standalone style of eating. Ibiza’s tipic cuisine is rough, hardy stuff, reflecting its terrain. There is no fresh water on the island, and so local salads are generally tomato and onion, without high quality leaves. Being an island, fish is hugely popular, usually simply grilled with local herbs and olive oil, and other local products such as mountainous goat cheeses and heavy red wines help everything glide down.

But primarily, it’s a carnivore’s dream, with goat, rabbit, lamb and pork especially found on huge outdoor grills everywhere. Veal, beef and chicken too. Anything which once had a heart beat can be drizzled with oil, thyme and pepper, and be fired. Some variations on mainland classics exist though: heavier bottifara and sobrasada sausages are more common than the morcilla and chorizo sausages of the mainland for example.

However, tapas does exist both as a precursor to grilled meats and fish, or in a newer wave of modern eateries. There is also a sort of Mediterranean fusion (I know…) of ‘beach club cuisine’ which features Spanish, French, and Italian dishes (you can’t move for beef carpaccio), with some room service favourites like Caesar salads, club sandwiches and burgers.

cava sangria - a specialty

 

El Chiringuito is a beach club at Es Cavallet beach, which is mainly known for its nudist and gay sections further down. El Chiringuito is however more vanilla, with the mandatory white palette scheme with marine touches. But this is no Blue Marlin - it’s actually very friendly, easy to get a table and even free to reserve a three-person day bed for the day, provided you have your lunch there.

Food is as mentioned; a mixture of crowd-pleasers reflecting the range of visitors here (Spanish, British, Italian and French in that order) – and a plus point is that they do brunch for when pan con tomate and endless ham and cheese for breakfast become repetitive. I particularly loved the cava sangria, the beautiful burrata, Med country chicken and the jamon iberico guy and DJ sharing a booth:

A place I visit every time is Bar La Bodega, in Ibiza Town (just below the ramp up to the Old Town). The inside is perfectly enjoyable, but an outdoor table is definitely worth the reservation. People watching is unrivalled anywhere. Streams of tourists, Eurotrash millionaires, glammed up gays and random nutters pass on their way to various dens of iniquity. The setting under the ramparts of the Old Town is beautifully up-lit and the whole ambience has a fantastic buzz. Food is fairly simple, great value tapas accompanied by lots of booze:

Santa Gertudis is a village in the centre of the island, popular with tourists but also a base for locals. It’s known for its square, with picturesque church and Bar Costa’s jamon bocadillos, but I would recommend visiting Dimi’s which is just around the corner. It’s tapas still, but with a modern twist and a lovely terrace setting. Special mention to the chorizo won-tons and bacon-wrapped dates, both amazing.

  

For a flash, ridiculous experience, Pacha’s restaurant (located at the club in Ibiza Town) serves surprisingly decent food and spending €100 per head allows free entry into the club. This seems a lot, but when David Guetta for instance is €80 on the door, it’s no longer so outrageous. Drink prices in the restaurant are a comparative bargain to the club too, so you can tank up and head next door...

Restaurant Road is a renowned stretch of eating options, many of which have been there for a generations. It’s the main road up to San Juan in the north, and every 500m or so (addresses are given by km markers) is a large restaurant, usually in a garden adorned with fairy lights, beautiful flowers and candles, creating some cosy rural spaces to while away the evening.

Es Caliu (km10.8) is a rustic, meaty paradise. The menu is simple and unforgiving, most of the barnyard is available on the grill. Our steaks were the biggest I’ve come across and very reasonable. We really didn’t need the potatoes.

Cicale (about km12) is really something special, and along with Bar La Bodega would be my top tip for Ibiza. It’s a family-run Italian (the Italian owners met here 25 years ago and never left) – and the produce is largely bio-dynamic or organic, and home-grown. The food was absolutely brilliant, and service more attentive than the Ibicencan norm. I recommend both the seafood calamarata (calamari-shaped pasta) and the gnocchi with fresh rocket and walnut pesto, which was fresh, nutty and welcome relief from the meat-fest of the trip.

Cami de Balafia is further up at about km15, and is quite unique. I would almost describe it as a quirkily Ibicencan ‘Relais de Venice/L’Entrecote’ type experience. There is no menu, starters are mixed salad or tomato salad, and you are rapidly regaled en español with a list of meats to feature on the outdoor grill, which you can guess from, and then an unqualified but very generous quantity will appear. Oh yes, and the chips!

 

 

 

A cross between crisps and chip shop chips, these are the real labour of love here. Piles upon piles of them are delivered around the room, and none are left. This restaurant is full of Spaniards, and better yet, locals, cheap as chips if you’ll excuse the pun, and in a great setting. Totally individual and good fun, it’s definitely one to visit – note that for all of the Restaurant Road venues, you really do need a car.

We ate many more times, such as at flashy/trashy pre-club km5 – replete with expensive-looking Russian ladies and their benefactors, and other beach restaurants such as Amante, which again serves dainty, digestible, aesthetic classics. I’ll write separately on our brilliant hotel, Can Arabi, and our side trip to the paradisiacal beaches of Formentera also.

Prices-wise, there is some great value especially the more old school you keep it. The meaty grill evenings come it at around €60-80 for two, with a glass of cava each and a bottle of red.

ceviche and steak from km5

José

Quick snack at Jose, the low-key yet brilliant tapas bar on Bermondsey Street.

This place is everything I love about Spain, and everything I think London needs more of. It’s quick, informal but dedicated to quality, and serious where it matters.

Manzanilla olives (£3) were speckled with sea salt flakes and wrapped by lemon peel, infusing its oil into them.

Croquetas were fantastic. £6 gets you five balls of oozing cheese and Spanish ham; fresh, hot and so moreish. They have become quite legendary and are among my favourite snacks. I’d love a bigger portion, but then again I think if they offered that, I’m not sure people would order anything else!

Fried choricitos with a sweet mix of red peppers and soft onions on a small piece of toast (yes that is what this jumble of a photo is) was another great bar snack. A bit messier than the croquetas' simplicity:

I had a small beer which immediately evoked being in Spain, moderating oneself with just the littlest of cañas before noon.

A slight gripe, as with BrewDog before it, is that it’s so popular and isn’t particularly relaxing as the waitresses jostle through standing crowds, with the ever present danger of hot, oily food landing all over you, or worse, the floor. But they manage very skilfully. I think this same success has in part led to Pizarro offering more in the way of tapas and smaller snacks.

chocolate pot with sea salt and almonds

But I really do like this place. It’s simple, stylish and upfront. You can see the whole operation, and the people watching is also pretty good. I could come here every day for a quick drink and snack after work, and London (especially West and Northwest) could do with this in every decent neighbourhood. 

Food – 9/10

Drink – 8/10

Service - 8/10

Value – 7/10

Tap water tales – 7/10 (requested prematurely, but retro bottle came pre-chilled, good sign)

Staff Hotness – 8/10