Osteria Angelina, London E1: ‘There's a lot to adore' – restaurant review

The Guardian

08-06-2025

One undeniable fact about Angelina, which has just opened a second site in Spitalfields, east London, is that in the now mini-group's relatively short existence, they've singlehandedly made the phrase 'Italian-Japanese restaurant' seem a much more normal thing to say. Patently, Angelina Mark 1 over in Dalston was not the first time in culinary history that Milan met Tokyo over the stoves, that miso met pasta, that truffle met sushi, and so on; hungry people have always travelled, merged cuisines and messed about with flavours. Still, the original Angelina's kaiseki-style tasting menu, where chawanmushi (savoury egg custard) is served with datterini tomatoes, and pastas are topped with furikake, was clearly interesting enough to attract the attention of Michelin.
Its new sister, Osteria Angelina, is darkly chic, spacious (handy for group dining) and tucked away down a side road on the Norton Folgate development close to Shoreditch overground station (fans of the Sri Lankan restaurant Kolomba on Kingly Street near Oxford Circus will find a second outpost, Kolomba East, in the same area, and Noisy Oyster, from the people behind Firebird, will soon be joining them). To give credit where its due, Norton Folgate is a refreshingly beautiful restoration project, where spruced-up Edwardian, Georgian and Victorian buildings mix with new-builds to create a little slice of sedate elegance away from the bottomless brunch, Box Park hellscape that is modern Shoreditch. Escape the main drag, hop into Osteria Angelina, sit up at the marble bar in front of the open kitchen and order snacks of pizza nera topped with moromi, a rich fermented soy paste, or a salad of zucchini and shiso leaves with ricotta.
From the number of people eating here just two weeks after it opened, this cultural clash clearly has its fans. What Osteria Angelina's Japanese customers, with their relatively orderly rules of social conduct and deference, make of the place's excessively animated Italian servers, however, is one for the anthropology books. All this, I guess, is smoothed over by the likes of the nori-topped focaccia and the small, sweet mini-loaf of Hokkaido milk bread, the very memory of which has me salivating; that's served with a kumquat reduction – OK, let's call it jam – and a puddle of burnt honey butter.
After the pane and insalate sections, the menu moves on to fritti and crudo. We ordered a plate of hot-as-hell tempura'd courgette flowers stuffed generously with miso ricotta. Crudo is so often a disappointment, but here the bream is cured in kombu and doused in yet more burnt butter, making it rather wickedly appealing. Hamachi sashimi was also very good, and smothered in truffled soy and furikake.
Dinner here could easily be made up purely of a collection of these small plates and some bread to mop up the exquisite oils, but that would mean missing out on the fresh agnolotti and tortellini. The pasta offering changes frequently, but expect the likes of immensely comforting fazzoletti with a rich duck ragu and lotus, crab and sausage-filled agnolotti and whelk risotto with burnt soy butter.
Larger meaty and fishy things, meanwhile, are grilled in front of you on binchō-tan coals behind the bar. Tongue with wasabi, anyone? Or, more simply, some Brixham skate wing or a Blythburgh pork chop? Angus steak comes rare, drenched in miso butter, alongside our side order of NamaYasai greens and an extra portion of tsukemono pickles.
There's a lot to adore about all of this cooking; it's generous, oily, saucy and certainly not to be eaten every day. Every plate we tried swam in some variation on spiced, seasoned, miso-flecked oil that would have been a terrible waste to consign to the dishwasher. How about some more bread and the remnants of that house ponzu? Wait, they're taking away the delicious white balsamic dressing that came with the tempura agretti? No, stop!
In fact, the only thing that left me slightly cold, other than the damned uncomfortable chairs with backrests so far back that you're almost lying down, was the brulee'd black sesame cheesecake with milk ice-cream, which, though visually interesting – dark, gloomy, stodgy – had about it the air of something that had been mass-produced, in much the same way as a Pizza Express cheesecake probably wasn't made by chef's nonna that morning, but rather came out of a packet from the freezer. Next time – and there will be a next time – I'll go for the genmaicha purin and kinako green tea rice pudding.
Osteria Angelina shouldn't work, but it absolutely does. It will also offend purists everywhere, but being upset has never been so delicious.
Osteria Angelina 1 Nicholls & Clarke Yard (off Blossom Street), London E1, 020-4626 6930. Open lunch Tues-Sun, 12.15-2.30pm (noon-3pm Sat & Sun); dinner 5.15-10.30pm (9.30pm Tues, Weds & Sun). From about £50 a head à la carte, plus drinks and service