Address: 3 Cowcross St, Clerkenwell, London EC1M 6DR
Bookings: no booking
Polpo is a regular pit stop for Life at the end of a fork when hunger beckons. Its Farringdon branch sits in between work in the City and the flat in Central London, and many of our walks home have been interrupted by a half-dozen dishes of its Italian tapas.
Given the mournful English weather, London isn’t renowned for alfresco dining, but Polpo does have a very thin strip of rickety tables slung out on Cowcross Street, next to a Subway sandwich outlet. The view isn’t the sort of stuff that dreams are made of, although a very good replica of Ruben’s ‘Samson and Delilah’ painting, hung, bizarrely, round the back of Fabric nightclub, can just be viewed down the end of an alleyway opposite.
Taking advantage of one of the (likely) few remaining warm days of the British summer, we stopped off the other evening for dinner. The summer sunlight was lingering, throwing fingers of gold across the tables, bathing the diners in a soothing warmth. Sitting down at one of the tables, we savoured the remnants of the summer, mindful of Jon Snow’s endless lament: “winter is coming…”.
We ordered some stuffed fried olives. I am not normally a fan of olives, finding them sour and unrewarding, but frying them in batter and stuffing them did enough to mask the actual flavour of the olives, and made for a tasty snack. Next on our table were some potato and parmesan croquettes, which were warm and nicely textured.
A crab and chickpea crostini was bland, and my partner in culinary crime turned her nose up at it after one small mouthful, leaving me to battle through as much of it as I could bear. The crab tasted as if it had spent more time sitting in the fridge drying out than it ever had exploring the freshness of the ocean, while the chickpea was entirely flavourless.
Finally, we ate a prosciutto & gorgonzola pizza. Everything on top of the pizza was pleasant enough, although to my palette the actual dough of the pizza was hardly cooked. It reminded me of one of those frozen pizzas you desperately try to heat in the oven at university so that the base is cooked enough to be edible, but without the ham, onions and mushrooms that top the thing being utterly incinerated. It is a difficult thing to achieve…
In sum, Polpo is a decent restaurant… if you’re hungry and you’re walking right past it. But take Life at the end of a fork’s advice, and don’t travel far and wide to seek it out. And if you do, make sure they leave the crab in the fridge.