Morito, 32 Exmouth Market, EC1R 4QL
Meal for two with beers: £60
When your family is spread across two continents, one of the most frustrating things that can happen to you is Christmas transport fail. For example, the childhood family Christmas punctuated by 24 hours in Abidjan waiting for a plane that could manage the rather crucial process of leaving the ground. When said transport fail is not your fault nor the act of a weather god or technical gremlin but is, instead, the direct result of airline incompetence, it is all the more difficult to stomach. A pox, therefore, on Iberia and all her agents of disappointment whose ill-judged overbooking and abysmal customer service saw me wandering round Barajas airport in the early hours of Christmas Eve searching for someone who could fix Christmas. Doom-laden times in the Fork household. However, whilst nothing can ever match up to a sunny Christmas with family, their incompetence meant I spent Christmas with Mr F and left me with a nice little pot of compensation courtesy of EU law - thank you Brussels. Unfortunately, it also left me vowing never to return to Madrid, scene of so much trauma. Which is a shame because it is actually a truly wonderful place, home to the magnificent Museos del Jamon. I knew I had to fight this feeling the only way I could: with tapas.
Morito, little sister to stalwart Moro, is the latest addition to the vibrant Exmouth Market area. Tucked in next to its older, bigger sibling, it offers up Sam and Sam Clark's take on tapas: some traditional Spanish but with a north African influence. They do not take bookings but they have a sensible approach to queuing. Having put your name on the list, you can pass the time waiting in a local drinking hole of your choice. If you go on a Friday, as we did, you can even watch inebriated office types trying to impress each other in the basement bar of Dollar Grills and Martinis: more entertaining than it sounds.
The only other potential irritant, on top of the wait, is the amount of space you are likely to be allocated for your dining experience. Morito is possibly the smallest restaurant in London. The tables are tiny, the chairs are minute, and the gaps between them are invisible to the naked eye. Expect some elbow jousting if you end up at the bar. The upside of all this intimacy is a buzzing, friendly atmosphere and a place that can serve a hundred covers in a night with five members of staff (including the kitchen).
Everything else paled into insignificance when the food started to arrive. We had a mussel and chorizo empanadilla whose crumbly, almost gritty, pastry cocooned that perfect combination of smoky pork and meaty bivalve. Octopus with potato and smoked paprika was a variation on the same basic flavour concept but with a more striking texture contrast of suckers and spuds. Some crinkly, blackened padron peppers combined well with slivers of seared pork and salty ham; and crispy fried aubergine slices were wonderfully sticky with honey that tasted of sun-drenched hills. These, however, were not even the highlights of the meal. Scallops in albarino tasted faintly of the sea. Not in the slightly snotty way that oysters can, which is faintly reminiscent of being knocked over by a large wave in the North Sea. This was the sweet, subtle taste of the Mediterranean, evoking civilized naps after boozy lunches in the sun. The quails egg and jamon on toast was beautiful. Weirdly, though, it was patatas mojo that stole the day. The vibrant green-spiciness of the sauce was the perfect partner to all the pork and shellfish we had piled on our table.
Morito has just been awarded a well-deserved Bib Gourmand by the Michelin Guide. Whilst this may make the queues even longer, it is still worth it. Tapas so good it thawed my hardened heart and taught me to forgive.
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