JAMES PEMBROKE

TUSCAN LONDON

It’s impossible to sit in a trattoria in Italy without wondering why on earth London can’t replicate the simple perfection of their menus.

Three years ago, I was taken by a friend to Sabatino’s, my dream trattoria in Florence. Pasta dishes were just €4.80 and main courses were €6.20. The house wine, served in small Pyrex tumblers, was €6 a litre. I considered emigrating.

Throughout lockdown, I pined for that happy lunch. I was still pining in October until Russell Norman, the best front-ofhouse man ever, invited me to lunch at his new Florentine restaurant, not two minutes from Farringdon station, on the Cambridge-brighton line.

I knew it would be amazing. Russell’s entry to the gastronomic hall of fame was guaranteed when he introduced smallplate dining to London in the shape of Venetian cicchetti at Polpo back in 2008. If Russell opened a Greenlandic brasserie, I’d be there yomping down penguin burgers with seaweed pickle. Astride an elk, if required.

What I didn’t know is that Russell had actually bought Sabatino’s and transported it right down to the check tablecloths and menu typeface to the Little Italy that Clerkenwell once was. We started with coccoli, those fluffy balls of dough. Then we shared a triumphant

pappardelle con coniglio (bunny to you) before the pork and fennel salsicce.

‘Sausage’ is just not an accurate translation. Proper salsicce like these are simply not in the same genus as a childhood chipolata. Each bite reveals another twist of offal. At Russell’s insistence, we shared his tiramisu.