Last week, the beau and I tried a new restaurant. He found it, I was 20 minutes late, he had some pints, I was heavily apologetic. He had been holding a table for us but it came and went before I arrived so we were faced with a 40 minute wait, or seating at the bar. We were HUNGRY, so bar it was. And a nice, roomy bar space at that. It turned out to be the perfect choice as the entrance filled with even more people than were there when I arrived.
The place, you ask? Polpo, a charming and atmospheric spot in Soho. I stuck with their homemade iced tea - I think it was called Bombay Ice Tea? My better half got a Manhattan and raved about it. We ordered a few small plates to share, probably 6 in total. Prices got a little steep, and the food was really mediocre.
Their fennel salad was heavily vinegar and, otherwise, quite plain. We shared the fried, stuffed olives but they weren't even stuffed, just battered and fried :( The grilled focaccia was nothing to write home about. Oh, but here I am writing home. Haha, phrasing fail!
Would we go back? Maybe. But probably not for food. There was a great little 'Campari Bar' downstairs, and the environment is nice.
More and more I'm understanding why that stereotype about British food exists...
Click through for more food shots - if you dare!
No comments:
Post a Comment