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?
