Race on: Speedboat bar
(Picture: Press handout)What does Valentine’s Day mean for couples who, well, aren’t yet properly couples? Who find themselves in the no man’s land between just dating and officialdom? It’s a situation — a situationship, for Urban Dictionary fans — that has become increasingly common in this hokey-cokey age of digital dating, and one which many couples-but-not-couples sometimes struggle to move past.
Come February 14, this comes to a head. Love is in the adverts, and the question of “what this is” becomes increasingly hard to gloss over. The elephant in the room wakes from his slumber and starts to make some noise. The best recourse here is to do something. Not necessarily a heart-to-heart; steady on. Instead, have some fun, eat some food, drink some drinks and mock the classical-turned-capitalist construct that is Valentine’s Day. These are the places to have a good time in, whatever the situationship and however it is — or isn’t — resolved.
Ombra
Contrary to popular belief, it is possible to go wrong with Italian. The strains of Amore, the twirling of taglioni, the splattering of sauce — it can be too messy or too much, literally and metaphorically, for relationships which feel undefined. This is not true of Ombra; tucked unassumingly onto a side street on Cambridge Heath Road, it is the Platonic ideal of that restaurant one has in mind when one says spontaneously, “fancy an Italian this evening?”
The place and the menu is the work of head chef Mitshel Ibrahim, whose sole aim is to feed well and keep glasses full. It is cheerily casual. One can have five plates or 15. It’s set up for sharing — best done with the likes of the fried Roman artichoke and burrata — but there’s no shame in hogging an entire Milanese pork chop or pumpkin tortelli. There are magnums, Negronis and a vibe sufficiently buzzy that any thought of serious chat will fly out the big, misty widows into streetlamp-lit night.
1 Vyner Street, E2 9DG, ombrabar.restaurant
Speedboat Bar
The music is loud, the flavours louder. There’s a pool table and a self-pour tower of Singha beer about three storeys high. For confused couples looking to do anything other than discuss where they are going, Speedboat Bar is the place to come. In fact, such is the level of heat in their masochistically moreish drunkard’s noodles, it’s a challenge to have any conversation, let alone an awkward one. Head chef Luke Farrell spent more than 15 years living in and travelling Thailand, and it shows in the ingredients that fire these dishes and lend them authenticity. Book upstairs, if possible, in the restaurant-cum-bar filled with Doraemon, boat pictures, and happy, shining people slurping tom yam. Drink some lurid, lime-chilli cocktails, stay until closing time — 1am, even on school nights — and have fun.
30 Rupert Street, W1D 6DL, speedboatbar.co.uk
Arcade Food Hall
If there’s one thing couples who don’t know if they’re a couple yet should avoid like the plague on Valentine’s Day, it is couples who do know. Little fear of seeing them at Arcade Food Hall, the destination of choice for casual daters, big groups and solo fliers catching some carnitas before hitting a film. Arcade is bustling and fast paced — it is a food hall, after all — but it doesn’t feel rushed, and nor do the staff there. Diners can order separate cuisines without leaving the table, which is ideal for confused pseudo-couples for whom even deciding what and where to eat risks an existential talk. Need some direction? Mexa’s ceviche tostada is enlivening, and it’s pork carnitas have the potential to melt hearts. Ditto Hero’s tandoor paneer roll and Tipan Tipan’s MO:MO. Sushi Kamon’s rolls and sandos are fun for those looking to divide and conquer. Drinks are strong, in both senses of the word: the mezcal and chartreuse-based Naked and Famous is as threatening as it sounds, and there’s a bar solely dedicated to Negronis. Start with a white Negroni, progress to amber, then onto red and who knows? Maybe the relationship will also start to evolve.
103-105 New Oxford Street, WC1A 1DB, arcadefoodhall.com
Ciao Bella
Ciao Bella is fundamentally unserious. Spilling out onto the pavement of London’s otherwise refined Lamb’s Conduit Street, it is a loud and irreverent riposte to this city’s more recent generation of Italian restaurants, the ones serving food which is beautifully cooked and lovingly sourced. No, Ciao Bella is a party; an old school knees-up, of the kind one has at a family wedding with aunts, great uncles and nieces. Large portions, low prices, and a pianist willing to play any song you throw at him keeps the dining room busy, and the wine glasses full. It’s not for everyone. The novelty of their signature dish — the seafood spaghetti in a bag — wears off quite quickly and the staff, whilst charming, are not there for the service. They are, however, there for a good time, with each other and with the diners. In certain situations that, combined with a large, quivering slab of tiramisu, can be a joyful relief.
86-90 Lamb’s Conduit Street, WC1N 3LZ, ciaobellarestaurant.co.uk
Acme Fire Cult
Of course, an “is-this-or-isn’t-this-a-thing” date around Valentine’s can go several ways, one of which is into a relationship. An evening at Acme Fire Cult cannot guarantee such a result, but with fairy lights, fur blankets and a live fire on which dinner is cooked, it stands a pretty good chance. The menu is veg-lead, which might surprise those who have dined in live-fire restaurants manned by tattooed, bearded chefs before now. Alongside top chef Daniel Watkins, tattooed, bearded Andrew Clarke is also on a mission to move away from the bro-becue approach to cooking with fire, which makes Acme Fire Cult interesting as well as cosy, with the likes of fermented squash, smoked potatoes with tahini mayo and burnt onion soubise with ancho oil on the menu. There is some animal protein — Tamworth pork, dry-aged sea bream — but plants play the leading part. Having 40Ft brewery next door means beer, of course, as well as by-products like yeast and spent grain, which Clarke incorporates into his cooking. It’s a visceral experience.
The Bootyard, Abbot Street, E8 3DP, acmefirecult.com
El Pastor
At the risk of sounding like Clinton’s Cards cliché, tequila is often the answer to life’s awkward questions. So are tacos, topped with cool cubes of tuna, crisp cheesy mushroom or pork shoulder slow roasted for 24 hours. El Pastor has both, in various venues dotted around town — though for our money, the OG in Borough Market remains the best. There, bright strings of lights are strung merrily across a railway arch stuffed with high tables, colourful murals, music, margaritas and those floppy, nutty tortillas and toastadas, of course, made fresh daily with heritage corn. That said, all the El Pastors are places for tucking in, swapping zinging salsas and sides of frijoles and ordering just one more bebida. It feels like a holiday from all worries — and with tequila this pure, there’s little fear of them coming back with a vengeance at the end of the night.
