Popolo, Shoreditch, restaurant review

Popolo sits around 100 feet away from Tramshed, the controversial chicken and steak behemoth, that polarises as much with its limited menu as it does with its room-dominating Damien Hirst bisection. In contrast, Popolo’s addition to the Shoreditch backstreets is geared towards inclusively, and opening up the space for people to enjoy their food – food which aims to capture the spirit of the Italian kitchen with lashings of Spanish and North African influence. After all, popolo is Italian for ‘people’, or to hone in on the true meaning, ‘folk’ or ‘populace’. The intimate dining area upstairs, and the front-row view you get of the boisterous downstairs kitchen, go far to engender the sense of communal spirit. But will the food prove as unifying?

General Manager Munur Shah and Head Chef Jonathan Lawson (who earned his Italian food bonafides working with Theo Randall) have a unity of their own: they went to school together, and worked closely on stripping this Grade 2-listed former spice factory down to the joists. They both talked passionately about the impact they wanted to make on London’s dining scene, the shockingly swift 8-and-a-half week long period of destruction and reconstruction, and – most wide-eyedly of all – their food.

Once seated kitchen-side I sipped on my Alhambra (maybe Popolo will look to the Italian craft beer boom in the near future.) My dining partner chose some stunning red wine – a 2015 Lama di Pietra Nero di Troia IGP, and that’s easy for me to say – then we checked out the menu.

The first dish, very reasonably priced at £4, was the Labne with Fried Olives, Chickpeas and Morita Chilli, inspired by a meal on offer at New York’s Balaboosta. The thing has the aroma of roast chestnuts, but digging in reveals complexity from the moment the salty olives crack under your teeth. I am normally no fan of olives, habitually flinging the unwanted pizza topping straight into the food waste, but these were something else entirely – little bombs of umami. The chilli-dusted chickpeas add delicate spice, tempered by the balm of labne (an Eastern Mediterranian yoghurt). As setting out a fine-dining stall goes, this is a hell of a dish. It paired especially well with the Padrón Peppers, which were a delicious morsel (and unique too – on average one in ten of these capsicum annuum is spicier than the rest).

We then both dug into filled pasta – my friend had the vegetarian Ravioli stuffed with Delica Squash, Sheep Ricotta and Sage Butter, and I had the Grouse Cappellitti with Porcini Butter, the use of the Scottish-sourced meat a nod to Britain in amongst the sunshine. Upon its arrival, I instantly have a new favourite pasta shape (so long, tagliatelle!) The cappellitti has the bite-sized appeal of ha gow dim-sum: just place in mouth whole, bite, and absorb yourself in the flavour. And what flavour – meaty richness that betrays a deeper influence from British cuisine than just the origin of the game bird. The pasta came highly recommended by Jonathan and Munur, but they should shake entering diners by the shoulders and rave madly at them if it’s this good.

Despite the visual siren song of some gigantic prawns on the stove, I instead skip the fish menu and opt for the Steak Bavette. The meat is cooked perfectly, the cavolo nero perhaps adds a little too much moisture, but little chunks of celeriac get the overall texture back on the straight and narrow. The chimichurri sauce peps the whole thing up into something very pleasing. My friend’s Romanesco Sauce was a fine example of the very ‘on-trend’ gourmetfication of cauliflower, with earthy hazelnuts and almonds giving it a nice crisp bite.

As Popolo began to fill up (gratifyingly, as the space is much better suited to a bustling atmosphere) we were ready for dessert, and despite the options (all at £4.50 to £6.80) there was only one I could really choose. Poached Pear, served here with mascarpone, is a personal white whale of puddings – it absolutely floored me when I first tried it at Berkeley, California’s legendary Cheese Board Collective. Since then I’ve failed in finding it on offer again whilst dining out, and further failed in making it myself. When it arrived, I was briefly disappointed that it was served in fanned slices (what’s wrong with the shape of a pear?) but any doubts are sledgehammered away by the taste – like candy from heaven. Total justice done to my daydreams.

Popolo branches out from its Italian roots, and in doing so doesn’t put a branch wrong – the Rivington Street hideout delivers on pretty much all you would want from modern European food.

Popolo
26 Rivington St,
EC2A 3DU
http://www.popoloshoreditch.com/