At Parrillan's original site, one of London's best Spanish restaurants, most of the menu comes uncooked, to be grilled by the diner at outdoor tables. Here, however, the DIY grilling is more of an optional sidequest. Another change is the addition of indoor seating, where diners can observe the chefs at work. On our visit, we happily left the cooking to the pros to fully immerse ourselves in the buzz created by the sociable dining vibe of the Parrillan brand.
A flawless negroni started the proceedings, enhanced by an earthy undercurrent of chestnut. The charismatic staff were happy to explain the menu, recommend wine pairings, and answer our many questions, including what manteca is. Manteca, it turns out, is a smokey pate of confit pork belly and liver, and one of the best things we’ve ever had on toast.
Sticking to the rustic theme, we were then introduced to the flambadou (a kind of metal funnel for pouring flaming hot fat). Here, this medieval-looking tool had been used to scorch an enormous Cornish scallop, to simple but delicious ends. When paired with a featherweight Verdejo, the humble mollusc whisked us from Borough to Bilbao in a heartbeat.
Soon, a Viking feast-style veal shank filled our table, surrounded by smouldering rosemary. With juices locked in by its stint in the sous-vide, the meat tumbled onto its bed of olive oil mash at the gentlest of nudges. When doused with bone marrow jus, the dish elicited truly visceral sounds from both sides of the table. An equally over-the-top crema Catalana, served in a pineapple, brought a theatrical finish to the hedonistic feast.
Parrillan’s one weakness, however, affects the pocket, not the palate. Yes, the manteca was a steal at under a tenner. And the veal was so large that £85 felt almost justified. But, as fresh as the scallop was, no amount of flambadou-ing could ever warrant its £17 price tag.