Bertorelli, Frith Street

I met my father outside the Curzon Soho for a meal before heading off to see fantasy romp Stardust (the sort of film that gives me unconditional happiness). With so many places in Soho we couldn’t decide where to go, but I wanted to check what had opened on the site of my previous favourite Frith Street Italian, Tomato. It turned out to be Barrafina, which from the outside looking in appeared to be pretty authentic and very lively. Probably tremendous tapas too if it’s anything like its sister restaurant, Fino on Charlotte Street. But we weren’t in the mood for a la plancha cooking and headed off to the Bertorelli opposite.

The room was large and rather characterless but non-offensive, although the tables for two were a bit too close together in a pack ‘em in way. On being seated we were offered a choice of water: tap, still or sparkling and went for two glasses of tap with lemon. It’s rare to be offered tap water in a restaurant and should be done in more places. The menu is pretty straightforward with antipaste, pizza, pasta and meat and fish dishes with a selection of sides. Not the cheapest chain but the food looks more interesting than Strada or Café Uno. After a very heavy meal the night before, I went for a buffalo mozzarella caprese salad with basil and pine nut dressing. Unfortunately the bocconcini were too cold and rubbery, lacking the creaminess I was craving, and the tomatoes didn’t have enough flavour to carry the dish. The pine nuts seemed to have disappeared altogether. For around £6.50, this was a disappointment that I could have made better at home with the helping hand of Waitrose. My father had calamari which looked much as it always does when fried.

The service was very fast and our main courses arrived almost as soon as our plates had been cleared. This is fine for pre-theatre, but as we had time to kill it felt a little rushed. I’d decided on roast salmon with balsamic roasted onions, cherry tomatoes and black olives with spinach while my father had settled on ravioli with salami, mortadella, spinach and a brandy sauce. We shared a side of zucchini fritte. The salmon was cooked well, rare, if you can do that to a fish, nicely pink and wobbly on the inside. The onions were somewhat acidic on their own but worked when teamed with the fish. The olives overpowered the dish but had good depth of flavour. It worked, just, saved by the salmon. Sadly the zucchini were a let down. I adore the things and order them pretty much whenever I see them on a menu, but these were cut too thickly and were subsequently too hard. They weren’t bitter and the batter was fine but they could have been the star of the show. The pasta looked tasty enough but I neglected to steal a forkful.

As the food had come so fast we decided to have a peek at the puddings. There were a number of tempting options with an emphasis on ice cream. While we deliberated, my father filled me in on family developments stemming from his trip over to Gloucester to see the relatives. Top of the list was the news that my cousin’s husband, the undertaker, and somehow acquired a surplus to requirements coffin that he was intending to turn into a drink cabinet. Given that the house is already stuffed to the gills with gargoyles, masks and photos of red telephone boxes, it will certainly fuel gossip at the school gates. In the end I predictably went for the tiramisu and my father opted for the raspberry sorbet with amaretti biscuits. The tiramisu proved to be the surprise hit of the meal – not as good as homemade of course (they always skimp on the mascarpone) but much better than the bricks of cream, sponge and cocoa you often get. This was properly steeped in coffee, moist and fairly rich.

We polished off the food with a bottle of Orvieto Classico from the all-Italian wine list. It was appley at first and easily drinkable, ok but not one I’d go for again. I didn’t see the bill but for around the same price you could get a better meal in a place with bags more character. Or something a lot worse. So it’s a safe bet, but uninspiring. Next time we’ll squeeze into a spot at the counter of Barrafina.