Does the area around Sloane Square in central London really need another fancy, Italian-leaning restaurant that serves up tortellini in brodo and veal Milanese? Well, yes, apparently it does. One Saturday lunchtime late last year at Martino’s was hectic even in the delightful reception area, where we were waiting to check in a coat with the elegantly uniformed front-of-house ladies. All the tables in this hot new all-day brasserie were booked and busy, and plenty of walk-ins were champing at the bit for cancellations.
Actually, “delightful reception” is not a phrase I’ve often uttered, or even thought, but this is a Martin Kuczmarski restaurant, so the small things tend to add up to a larger picture – this cocoon-like holding pen keeps would-be queuers away from the diners. Why was I so charmed by this weird, crisply officiated bends chamber that operates as a liminal space between the real grubby world outside and the glitzy, sexy, mock-Italian trattoria inside? Well, it turns out that’s because it solved a problem that I didn’t even realise I had.
