London restaurant impresario Russell Norman recently opened Brutto, what appears on the outside to be a self-conscious trattoria tribute act, following from the more metropolitan, era-defining template for casual-but-cool, Polpo that eventually spiralled into decline.
But it would be a mistake to classify this restaurant, on Farringdon’s Greenhill Rents, as a Tuscan nostalgia trip. Yes, bistecca alla Fiorentina is charred on the grill bars, flames licking up, before being served unadorned. Yes, chicken liver crostini; pasta e fagioli; red-and-white gingham tablecloths and Parmesan spooned from metal bowls. Yes, billowing tiramisu. Yes, plentiful Negronis; a stand-up bar where the coffee is cheaper than sitting down; prints and portraits on softly lit walls.
But for every tribute to Florence, there’s a touch that prevents it from going full-on shrine. A mural from artist Neil Fox puts all these traditional interiors in a more cacophonous context, while a dish of anchovies, cold butter, and sourdough from St. John Restaurant ties it closer to its surroundings (Fergus Henderson’s seminal institution is just down the road). The atmosphere is less transportive than transient — welcomingly so — with a dining room that quickly feels abuzz and more like it’s been around forever than stuck in an endless past that doesn’t quite exist.
Take a look around.
Owner Russell Norman bringing in the essentials.
Setting up the dining room.
The essentials.
The table set-up is very classical.
And the outside, too.
Briefing time at Brutto, before lunch.
The entrance that greets customers at Greenhill Rents.
A Negroni, to begin.
Saluti. Though Brutto is far from a reversion, or throwback to Polpo, making this cocktail its calling card feels like a nod to Norman’s most famous restaurant.
The beginnings of coccoli, listed as “cuddles” on the menu and with the makings of Brutto’s “it” dish. Dough is portioned...
... Before being deep-fried into tearable, pillowy chubs, ready to be stuffed with stracchino cheese and prosciutto.
In their final form, alongside a plate of pork tonnato, its pink richness enlivened by caperberries.
And now, on the way to a grateful table.
Naturally, the dining room is quiet early on. While Brutto is self-consciously Florentine-inspired, the interiors don’t lean towards pastiche or transportiveness.
A case in point: As diners take their seats, they are greeted by a mural by Neil Fox, which situates the traditional, nostalgic tablecloths and settings in an edgier, more cacophonous context.
By contrast, the portraits, photos, and artworks — as well as the banquette seating — lining the other wall have an older feel.
The flow begins.
Michaël Protin
And the tickets start to stack up.
Plates of pasta are ferried to the dining room. For now, the offering is very classical: a pappardelle with rabbit, and penne alla vodka.
Parmesan waits ready to be spooned on top, with salad for health.
The penne alla vodka. The pastas will be joined by a “risotto of the day” in the coming weeks, once Norman has enough chefs in his kitchen.
Speared.
Michaël Protin
The centrepiece of the mains is the appropriately Florentine classic, bistecca alla Fiorentina.
It’s one of those dishes with “rules” enmeshed in a city’s culinary history, with both a sense of romance and stuffy preservation. On the other hand, it’s also a big grilled steak.
On to the fire: One of those Florentine rules. Not in a pan, please.
Served with ceremony and austerity: crisp oven potatoes, and green beans.
It will surprise no one that dessert is tiramisu, in a huge dish — both luxurious and generous.
Though the portioning may look geometric and exacting...
Michaël Protin
... What arrives at the table is anything but.
So, not quite Florence, not quite London, but somewhere those two cities’s past and present intersect. Like red-and-white tablecloths, in front of a chaotic mural.
Michaël Protin