Restaurant Review - Italo, 13 Bonnington Square SW8 1TE

A stone’s throw from MI6, hidden away in a beautiful little square with Nine Elms right by, lies an extraordinary tiny café/restaurant called Italo.

Owned by Charlie Boxer, son of the great food writer Arabella Boxer, this place is normally a café/excellent sandwich place/delicatessen in Bonnington Square, which was once a squatters stronghold.

The food isn’t necessarily Italian, as every now and again chefs with big futures come to do short residencies.

I had been told to drop everything last Friday and try out Florence Robinson’s cooking, who trained at Quo Vadis. She was cooking at Italo for a few days.

I soon found out why as this young lady is a sensational cook. So good in fact that I even got over my phobia about eating dinner between 630-830 (understandable noise issue with neighbours).  You can have lunch though.

As you cannot park you can either walk from Vauxhall Tube. Rather lazily and as I was running late after my post prandial siesta I picked a ‘Comfort’ Uber.

What a great choice! I glided in to about 2 feet of my outdoor table where my friends awaited. I felt like a VIRC! (Very Important Restaurant Critic.)

A Negroni awaited me. (By the way do try the Amazon massive ice cube trays, as my Greek chum Nass told me that Negroni’s are only supposed to have one ice cube within).

We then had some Rosé (a possible tip for the future would be to bring your own wine cooler sleeve as I am not sure they had ice buckets - into which lots of table salt should always be put as that heightens the coolth.)

As we were 5, we decided to have everything on the short and perfectly formed menu.

As I write this in the early hours I am still thinking about the totally joyous first course. This was a brace of oysters with a rhubarb mignonette. What’s a mignonette I hear you cry? It is basically very finely chopped cubes of normally shallots with vinegar, only this time the shallots were substituted with tiny little  squares of pickled uncooked thinner part of the rhubarb vegetable stalk. AMAZING!!

Then we had little gougères of Norwegian Brown Cheese, whose full zinginess contrasted well with the pastry.

The main courses were mackerel (£15) or chicken (£16). I had recently had a disastrous experience at home with a mackerel where I stupidly soldiered on with one whose innards were grey and slushy. So, ever mindful of the need to get back on the horse I was determined to have this admirable fish, which I normally have with gooseberries. This time Chef had prepared the fillets with pickled rhubarb and horseradish. MINDBLOWING!

I love to cook but I am very much a recipe follower (unlike my mother, who is so inventive. A quick example of which is that she discovered that one can use the mashed white interior of rhubarb stem instead of horrible gluten free flour). So when I see and taste Florence Robinson’s cooking I am filled with awe at the inventiveness, as I just know that I could never ever come up with these kind of combinations.

The chicken with the herb crumb (perfectly done unlike its dry cousins in other establishments) and garlic labneh (strained yoghurt) was a joy also. I loved the way she diagonally cut the whole chicken breast too. What a bargain also.

The sides of tomato salad with elderberries and fried new spuds with chive mayo were nicely different from normal sides.

Now Florence Robinson’s passion is desserts, and I could see why.

Her Baked Alaska combined a Buckwheat and Corn biscuit, covered with a burnt peach jam, then peach and sweetcorn ice cream, with a brown Italian sugar meringue on top triumphantly being the King of this most admirable baby castle.

When the dark chocolate sorbet came along (with cherries), my first thought was to wish that my late great father was dining with me, as he would have been transported, as I was.

This is the first time I have done this, but I am going to award Florence Robinson two bonus 🦚 on top of a no brainer 5 🦚

🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚 + 🦚🦚