Krokodilos, London W8: ‘Suddenly I’m Christina Onassis’ – restaurant review
Krokodilos, a new Greek restaurant, has spread out its tail and claws in Kensington. This sleek, moderately fancy celebration of all things from Athens to the coast of Crete is currently working hard to channel a sun-kissed sojourn on the Aegean, in winter, in London. Yet step inside, away from the concrete and drizzle outside, and the place is airy, opulent and verging on the semi-Californian. This is movie-set Greece hewn in tones of dappled, early evening Athenian sunshine, all bronze, peach, tan and gold, and enhanced with tasteful lighting, velvety soft furnishings and comfortable leather banquettes. Before I walked in, I was just a woman in thermals with a flaky nose, but then – bang! – I’m suddenly Christina Onassis sipping a mulberry mournoraki in a rustic yet dashingly chic taverna.
All this and a kitchen headed by Angelos Togias, ex of the Connaught, and with a clear vision to honour the many wonderful things about modern Greek cooking and ingredients. We begin with a “tasting” of five olive oils in tiny bowls with house flatbread, each of them passionately explained by our server as if they were the finest wines from the cellar. Doesn’t the 245 Organic 0.8% have subtle wafts of citrus and fresh grass? How about the fuller, fruitier aroma of the Mitira Lesvos? As a non-drinker nowadays, I found the ceremony of the experience rather delightful – why do we reserve such nerdiness mainly for wine?
But perhaps you’re already saying no, thank you, having been burnt by other renditions of allegedly traditional Greek food in Great Britain. Yes, there are some fine examples out there – my beloved Hand Cafe in Stratford, east London, for one, where sweet bougatsa, good coffee and the likes of fragrant, freshly made courgette and feta strifti are to be found – but who among us has not, at some point, stared sadly at a bowl of roughly chopped red onion, unripe tomato and unlovable, catering-pack feta and muttered: “This is not how the Greek salad was when we were on holiday.”
Here at Krokodilos, however, there’s a sense that Togias and his team are aching to change all that. From the dozen or so starter options, some are instantly recognisable. Yes, there’s tarama and whipped fava, through which to scoop some lovely fermented potato flatbread, but there is also much more unusual and unexpected stuff, such as sharp, citrussy stone bass dressed in blood orange and fennel. Even a humble-sounding “beetroot salad” turns out to be a rather complex plate of beets, fermented apple, peanuts, raisins and galomizithra cheese.
That apparently predictable taramasalata, by the way, is miles away from the pink, whiffy mush to which we have somehow grown tolerant as a nation. Krokodilos’ “taramas cream” is the richest, most decadent bowl of pale, barley-coloured, salty, cured roe (bottarga from Messolonghi, no less) with a judicious scattering of dill and topped with a runny egg yolk. “I like this place,” I said while devouring this pungent concoction. “It’s well handy.” There are tiny, romantic tables, as well as larger areas for groups, should you need them, plus it’s in a part of London where good, reasonably priced places to eat at and/or entertain are all too rare.
The mains menu is equally enthralling. A properly good rabbit stifado, monkfish fricassée, grilled octopus with a vièrge emulsion and lamb dolmadakia … So I was at fault for ordering the prawn saganaki – not because it wasn’t delicious, but because I was wearing white, and foolishly imagined that I’d be able to eat this generous and heady tomato, feta and prawn stew and emerge unsplattered. I began with aplomb, dipping the remains of my wild mushroom-topped flatbread into the sauce, but things got messy very soon thereafter.
The front of house, thankfully, feigned ignorance and swept me into the dessert selection, from which the Greek yoghurt with quince and cardamom oil might seem the healthy option, but it is served as if it’s the star of the show, in a supremely elegant glass and with a recommendation to pair it with an eight-year-old Gaia vin santo. We also cleared a karidopita chocolate and walnut cake with kaimaki ice-cream.
Krokodilos is flying way under the radar right now, possibly due to its location, the time of year and the fact that its owners have opened so many places at roughly the same time. But what we have here is a very amenable place to spend a couple of hours, imagining you’re feeling the sun on your face when in reality you won’t see it for another six months. Bring a bib, order the saganaki and think of summer. Better days are ahead.
Krokodilos Lancer Square, 28A Kensington Church Street, London W8, 020-8191 2783. Open all week, lunch noon-3pm, dinner 5.30-10pm. From about £50 a head for three courses, plus drinks and service
