It feels like a very good sign when, on walking into somewhere at 5.30pm without a reservation on a school night, you just manage to get the last table in the house. Half an hour later, Petisco is properly full. Word travels fast around these parts, it seems, particularly as this place has barely been open a few months.
The word petisco - pronounced ‘peh-tish-co’ - comes from the Portuguese ‘petiscar’, or ‘to snack’. A petisco is variously translated as ‘a delicious morsel’ or ‘titbit’, which conveniently plays into the all-conquering but now very-tired-indeed ‘small plates’ revolution that, years from when they first emerged to clutter our restaurant tables and swell the coffers of crockery manufacturers, we still seem to be firmly in the exhausting grip of. I just want to see a big plate again. It doesn't seem like a lot to ask.
Petisco gets a pass on it, of course, as do tapas restaurants in general, from which the trend began, because small plates is kind of the whole point, rather than a gimmick which means you end up over ordering and spending more money than you wanted to every time you eat out. Anyway.
