Grace and flavour in Bermondsey
When a spot I’ve booked for Friday evening is described on the website as ‘an award-winning, light and spacious gallery’, with shots of the room dressed for corporate sales conferences and the launch of a sports car, the omens are far from cheering. In the heart of foodie Bermondsey Street, Delfina is indeed an enormous blank canvas, apt for all one’s corporate-hire desires.
But apparently, most of the time Delfina is a regular restaurant, serving the likes of wasabi pea-encrusted tuna, pan-roasted duck breast, seared river trout and a variety of Masterchef beginners-round stalwarts, with the requisite plate smears, cappuccino coughs and Jackson Pollock-style plate graffiti.
I stress ‘apparently’ because, on the night in question, my guests arrived before me, saw the grand, deserted, brightly lit gallery with 25 unoccupied tables, thought I’d sent them a duff address and absconded to a pub.
Eventually I lured them back to Delfina, where we dined solo, centre-stage in the grand abyss. Luckily, I love everything 1980s, and this was a scene straight out of American Psycho. We ordered wild mushroom ravioli – tiny and pleasing – and some perfectly lovely scallops wrapped in pancetta.
Then two more diners appeared, took seats and began a furious yet entertaining fight (probably over his choice of restaurant). One of our main courses of tuna carpaccio appeared mistakenly as a starter, leaving my friend without a main, but by this point she was too giddy to be irate. The herb-crusted rack of lamb, boulangère potatoes and minted peas was so unmemorable that it took several postmortem emails to remember it had been ordered.
Mid-dinner some confused French tourists entered the gallery mumbling ‘Qu’est-ce que c’est? C’est un restaurant?’, which sent me half-hysterical. This took our minds off the puddings which, of course, arrived deconstructed in piles, like an edible maths problem where Chef has chosen to show the workings.
Banoffee pie should never be deconstructed, for it is greater than the sum of its parts; nobody wants an enormous slice of the condensed milk glob, or the digestive base. I can see how Delfina is an award-winning ‘space’; it’s the bits in between that are the problem.
Delfina, 48-50 Bermondsey Street, SE1 (020 7564 2400)
