Trullo: simplicity as a virtue

Trullo, 300-302 St Paul's Rd, N1 2LH

In the past, I have always found Italian restaurants in London a little disappointing. With the exception of some fine pizzerias, my last two visits to Italian eateries in London have been underwhelming; leaving me with a creeping suspicion that perhaps I just don't fully appreciate the understated virtues of Italian cooking: a reaction at odds with my fond memories of simple but brilliant meals in Italy. This may explain why it has taken me more than a year to find my way to Trullo, despite its Islington location being mere moments from my Dalston haunts. If only I had ventured there sooner, I wouldn't have spent the last year wondering when I stopped loving Italian food. I would have spent it in Trullo.

Defying the weather: ice cream in London

Chin Chin Laboratorists, 49 - 50 Camden Lock Place, NW1 8AF

Tub of ice cream with sauce and one topping: £3.95

Gelupo, 7 Archer St, W1D 7AU

Waffle cones with two scoops: £3

I've called London home for more than five years now, so my expectations for the summer weather are pretty low. I can deal with the stagnant humidity and the near-constant lack of sunshine, if that's what the city demands. However, even with my hard-earned stoicism, this summer has enraged me. I find myself simmering with fury at its dark, cold, rainy skies. Tired of waiting for another brief patch of warm weather, I decided to go and eat ice cream at two of London's finest, hoping to shame the sun into putting its hat on.

After the nitrogen: Chin Chin's creations

da Polpo: it's not you, it's me

da Polpo, 6 Maiden Lane, WC2E 7NA

Meal for two (with 50% off food): £50

For many, da Polpo is all about family. It's the youngest child trying to live up to the awesome foodie legacy of its older siblings. It's not the original (Polpo) nor is it the most iconic (Polpetto). It isn't even the slightly edgy one that your aunt suspects is on drugs (Spuntino). It's the Conrad Hughes Hilton of the Polpo Family. Poor da Polpo,  it must hope for a visit from one of the few people in London who haven't already fallen in love with its sisters. Someone, perhaps, like me. 

It's not that I wasn't keen to go and eat at this infamous family of restaurants before. I just never got round to it. This may have something to do with the queues. I made it up the stairs to Polpetto once but couldn't face the two hour wait. So da Polpo was to be my first encounter with The Family. I was so keen to see what every other right-minded foodie was on about, I even made it there before its official opening.

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.

Inconstant Italian

Zucca, 184 Bermondsey Street, SE1 3TQ

Meal for two: £85

Living in Dalston, I tend to think most other places are quite smart. I forget that it is normal to brush your hair and wear clothes that match; consequently, I am always vaguely surprised to find that most people choose to do this. Bermondsey, sleek, chic and stylish, is a welcome break from my home borough's scruffy charms.  On a quaint London village street complete with idyllic old church, Zucca embodies the upmarket but trendy feel that permeates this part of London.

All exposed concrete, open kitchen and well-judged art, eating in Zucca is like eating in the modern house of your parents' wealthiest friend: an intimate and charming experience that displays all the attributes of a great local restaurant. However, Bermondsey is not our neighbourhood, and it takes more than sharp design to entice me across the river. If the food had been consistently good, sustaining the quality displayed in the best dishes, I would have no hesitation in returning: for the cooking here displayed moments of real excellence. However, our meal was slightly overshadowed by inconsistencies, and it failed to live up to its stellar reputation.