by Louis Hessey-Antell. Find Louis on Instagram here.
It was one of those days when the sun was raging, and the streets were awash with youthful grazing. We settled down in the Shakespeare, sipping beer, and looking for a place to eat and meet some souls. After several shandies, or so, our rear-ends landed on seats near the front of Bravas.
Eggplant beckoned from a table nearby, enhanced all my taste buds and lit up the sky…as the first dish arrived: lamb croquettes, rich with Béchamel inside a truly wonderful crust. Simplicity itself.
Second were some wafer-thin slices of muscular, air-dried beef. Nothing more, and nothing less. Very good-quality Cecina de Leon, if you like that kind of thing…which I do. Then they brought on the aubergine, and then things got very interesting indeed. These little batons of beastly flavour are how I would choose to dine if I were to become a vegetarian or give up booze. I think these guys are onto something, and annoyingly, they’re never going to sell out. Tip from the inside? “Cut them thin.” Close to the chest stuff. Very good. Smothered in fine molasses worthy of a Corleone/Roth partnership, with probably a few dribbles of Abbandando’s olive oil for good measure (that’s a Godfather reference; perhaps that would be gilding the lily). Buy one portion, because you get loads, and then buy another. Trust us.
Now for the meat course(s). This place just keeps getting better and better. A rare piece of Iberian pig, disguised as steak (my idiotic mind first thought), was resting on a simple but punchy puree. Unchallenged pedigree cooked perfectly. The starchy middle came from the odd-looking Patatas Bravas, with the obligatory, piquant red sauce. Not the best I’ve ever had, but certainly not the worst.
Finally, I’ll go to town on the biggest fish in this particularly flavoursome pond; the beef and lamb ‘botifarra’ with arrocina (similar to cannellini) beans. The skin could have been crisper if I were being ultra-fussy, but it was lovely. Such a good dish, they should be serving twice, but that’s tapas for ya.
Bravas, and I hope – by extension – Gambas, is everything genius about Spanish food. You’ll have to make do with Clifton as a dining spot, I’m afraid; it’s a hard life.
Perfect Score.