Three weeks ago I touched down at the airport with a lump in my throat. I’d just spent three wonderful days in Milan, a city popping at the seams with world famous fashion houses, beautiful ornate architecture and some of the most exquisite food I’d eaten in 2009. I knew I was going to miss it intensely.
I didn’t, as some might imagine, go to Milan for the clothes shops. I don’t appreciate fashion the same way I appreciate, for example, a hot steaming plate of eggy Spaghetti Carbonara, decorated with salty licks of pancetta bacon. But although Milan isn’t as famed for its food as it is for its fashion, if you know what you’re looking for you can find some of the most delicious food, in restaurants tucked away in the myriad of city streets.
My favourite restaurant in Milan was found entirely by accident. We’d just spent the day walking and my feet were hurting. My stomach was beginning to loudly complain, so we stopped off at a restaurant about five minutes walk from an obscure metro station, and, with a quick glance at the menu, decided to duck inside. It was reassuringly busy – families sat, generations apart, laughing and talking loudly, at tables that creaked under the weight of the delicacies on top. At the front of the restaurant two chefs chatted amicably, tossing pale topping-covered dough into a huge stone fire, whilst simultaneously pulling cooked and appetising goodies back out. It had begun to snow outside, and the warmth of the restaurant, along with the family atmosphere, compelled us to order over and above our appetites.
So it was with similar excitement that I entered Zia Teresa a few days later, a restaurant almost hidden from the busy Knightsbridge high street. There were some similarities with the restaurant we’d visited in Milan: a table for two in the corner, a warm inviting restaurant, families and parties quite obviously enjoying themselves, an open kitchen complete with stone fires and staff working up a sweat.
Our waitress was friendly – I’m not sure her accent was Italian though – and she suggested a wine that would compliment the seafood I’d ordered as my main: a fruity Chardonnay. Disappointingly, not an Italian recommendation. I let it slide, just as I let the fruity nectar slide down my throat. It went down surprisingly well.
The menu was reassuringly Italian, with some touristy additions, like the avocado and prawn starter which was exactly that, avocado and prawns, with an unspectacular sauce, very retro in its simplicity. My starter was slightly more ambitious – grilled Portobello mushrooms covered in salty blue cheese. It wasn’t groundbreaking, but was entirely edible.
This is where the similarities between the restaurant in Milan and Zia Teresa ended. The food at Zia Teresa was uninspiring and blandly echoed that which we stuffed ourselves with at its Italian counterpart. My guest ordered a Calzone for his main, a dish that should be glorious in its puffy dough and stuffed full of delicious ingredients. What he got was an anaemic-looking pancake with slices of insipid tasting ham and mushrooms, and enough cheese to take away any of the other flavours it was weakly battling with. My main course of seafood risotto was somewhat better, but pleaded for seasoning. The seafood consisted of barely-there squid tentacles and a lonely prawn that swam in the gelatinous gloop on my plate.
The atmosphere made up for my lack of enthusiasm in the food, however. Usually, when served food that doesn’t excite me, I’m ready to pay the bill and leave, with a sad stomach and sorry taste buds. At Zia Teresa, even though we were both still hungry after leaving most of our mains, we sat sharing the last few drops of wine and even considered ordering another. (We both decided against this, what with work in the morning).
The restaurant, with its wooden panelling and burnt ember walls, was informal enough for us to relax and enjoy the surroundings, a welcome respite from the madness of London town. It wasn’t quite Italy, but then, what is?!
Review written for Fluid London.
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