Giant Robot: nostalgia and meatballs

Giant Robot, 45 Clerkenwell Road, London, EC1M 5RS

Brunch for two: £30

At any one time, there are several new food trends sweeping the capital. Of the current bunch, many seem to have their roots firmly embedded in the United States. Seoul may be the hottest foodie destination on the planet right now but back home, we are looking squarely west for our culinary inspiration. In amongst the promises of authentic, smoky BBQ and the proliferation of NY-inspired hangouts, one humble foodstuff is making a significant dent in the London restaurant scene all by itself: the meatball.  Six months ago, to my enduring shame, I didn't know what a slider was. Now it seems as if they are everywhere. The meatball has been quick and tenacious in its takeover - going from Campbell's tins to cutting edge dining in mere months. Arriving into Kings Cross in time for Sunday brunch, Mr F and I found ourselves cycling past Giant Robot, a fully paid up member of the meatball club, and couldn't pass up the chance to check it out.

The focus on balls is immediately apparent, with daily specials proudly displayed on the wall: it's quite entertaining for those of us who have retained a juvenile sense of humour. Come during the week and you can choose your ball, a sauce to accompany it and your starch-based ball-vehicle (eg spaghetti, mash etc). Come for a weekend brunch and there is a slightly more limited selection of balls on offer alongside a choice of ball alternatives including a cotechino hash, pancakes, eggs, salads and a burger. As we were there for the balls, I opted for a small spaghetti and meatballs and Mr F decided to test their burger making prowess.

The Robot's frozen glasses

Respectable Robot burger

I ordered a Bloody Mary because having a cocktail with breakfast is surely one of the best things about the weekend and the great institution of brunch. It was a respectable rendition of the breakfast classic, made special by the decision to serve it in a frozen tankard. Mr F nursed a generic European lager instead: what a chump.

Disappointing meatballs

However, whereas I clearly made the better choice of drink, it was Mr F's turn to look smug when the food arrived. His burger was a very respectable offering: juicy and meaty with mozzarella melted over it. Whilst I generally abhor fancy-pants burger toppings, this worked well and at £10 including fries, offered particularly good value for money. 

The meatballs, which should have been the winner, were only alright. I appreciated being able to choose a smaller dish (we'd already had a cooked breakfast with my parents) but the construction of the dish spoiled the overall effect. Plain spaghetti came topped with a disproportionately small amount of tomato sauce so the whole dish ended up a tad bland, even though the balls themselves were good, with a pleasantly crumbly texture which nonetheless held its shape well. The thickish slices of rubbery cheese on top didn't work either. It was like eating the spaghetti bolognese of an English childhood, where the meat, cheese and pasta were carefully layered on the plate - only without the wonderful umami taste of Worcestershire sauce that permeates my memories of that dish.

By contrast: the SpagWednesday meatballs. Heaven.

It wasn't until I tried the Spuntino meatball at my first vist to a SpagWednesday popup that I realised quite how brilliant meatballs and spaghetti could be. Thin spaghettini came slick with so much red sauce they provided bread for the excess, crowned with the perfect ball: rich, smooth and plentiful. Whilst Giant Robot left me craving the bolognese of my youth, this dish made me wish (not for the first time) that I was secretly an Italian or, at a push, an Italian American. Daniel Young came round at the end and asked whether the food reminded us of the meatballs of our childhood: if only.