Paradiso Olivelli - London

35 Store Street, London, WC1E 7BS
+44 (0)20 7255 2554
www.pizzaparadiso.co.uk

Review by Sarah Jappy

Mr C and I have seen a fair few sights in our restaurant-reviewing days. We've admired petal-strewn parfaits and terrines; cubes, froths and foams in a restrained rainbow of delicate shades; plump pumpkin-ravioli as golden as the sunshine, crystalline sugar sheets shot through with mint leaves, and test tubes of tomato extract as clear, colourless and cold as fridge-fresh vodka. We have never seen a starter more appetising-looking than Paradiso Olivelli's antipasto all'Italiana.

If the plate before us could speak, it would say: 'Go slowly.' The antipasti assembled in front of us include: blush-pink parma ham, pillow-y hefts of buffalo mozzarella, perfectly round arancini, yellow panelle, twigs of focaccia like whittled sticks and olive oil-splashed involtino di melanzane (a Sicilian dish of sliced aubergines rolled up with cheese). Like desirable dinner party guests, each of these components both triumphs solo and makes its sidekicks look good, too. The parma is meltingly soft, the mozzarella even more so. The arancini are herby and hot, the involtino tasty and colourful in equal measures. The panelle is a revelation: deliciously crisp, whisper-light and naughtily oily (in a good way, not like a practiced letch).

It doesn't take us long to polish off the lot. After such excess at such an early stage, you'd think an interval/nap would be desirable. Ever the professional, Mr C and I push on, appraising the menu for the next round. Unsurprisingly, the thought of bready pizza, hearty pasta or a stonking big piece of meat are not tempting us (though the menu has all of the above). I opt for the char-grilled prawns with rocket, cherry tomatoes and balsamic vinegar. Mr C loses his heart to the idea of pesce scada in umido: swordfish steak pan-fried and served in a sauce of white wine, cherry tomatoes and asparagus. The greedy man is in the running for some buttered new potatoes, too.

When our food arrives, I can't help but feel smug. My prawns are big boys, certainly, but the overall effect of the dish is lightness. Mr C, still digesting his ham and cheese, goes a little pale when faced with his more substantial selection, but, like the good trencherman he is, he tucks in with fortitude. He declares his swordfish 'smashing', and I'd use the same endorsement for my fish.

Thanks to my canny ordering, I'm able to press ahead with pudding, and opt for torta Paradiso. Sometimes a gel just wants something chocolate-y, and this is about as unabashedly that as ten Oompa-Loompas in a cacao factory: a calorific concoction of sponge, chocolate flakes, chocolate and ricotta mouse, all encased in glittering dark chocolate. Unable even to try a nibble of this delicious sugar-bomb, Mr C contents himself with another glass of the rather lovely red we've been working our way through.

Back in the thirties, Olivelli was a rather nifty little hotel and restaurant that garnered a bevy of loyal fans (some of them famous). Thanks to its commitment to sourcing quality ingredients from Italy, without ramping up their prices accordingly, these days Olivelli is still bellissima. The restaurant has the sleekly inoffensive good looks (and relaxed atmosphere) of Pizza Express, but the food is in another league. Just don't forget to skip lunch before coming, especially if you want to start in style...