Anglo
Farringdon, London
The neon sign outside reads ‘Anglo’. Once through the door, however, all the signs would seem to suggest ‘Scandi’. The furs slung over chairbacks, the mid-century furniture and the concrete pots of twigs feel very late-noughties Nordic. Anglo is a tiny space, with no more than half a dozen tables, where diners partake of a seasonal tasting menu of nine courses and a shorter lunch version on Fridays and Saturdays only. Chef Anthony Raffo has a distinctive style, using texture, temperature and acidity to vivid effect. His dainty, artistic creations aren’t just balanced; they’re an exploration of balance, of how far you can take contrasts without knocking the whole thing off kilter. A mature Cheddar tartlet is a powerful opening salvo, with acidity coming from the pickled walnut ketchup concealed within. The next dish arrives warm: celeriac layered with fermented spelt porridge and piped with mushroom, celeriac and onion purées, plus pickled ramson capers for some sharpness. It is cooking that commands attention, and is well suited to textured wines of a natural persuasion, including those on the list of around two dozen bottles (some from England). The succession of dishes builds to a meaty, if not exactly huge, main course such as squab pigeon paired with charred kale, sweet caramelised onion, broccoli purée and perfumed, pickled spruce. Desserts play with sweet and savoury, for example a Tunworth cheese ice cream with prune or dehydrated and rehydrated beetroot with buckwheat ice cream and a honey tuile dusted dramatically with beetroot powder. Service is sincere and friendly. Not the kind of restaurant you might expect to find this close to the Square Mile.
