Latest news with #Krokodilos
Telegraph
20-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
William Sitwell reviews Krokodilos, Kensington: ‘We refused to be defeated by the goat'
Unquestionably this was goat. Goat in all its goatiness. By which I mean it ponged. It reeked. It was musty, earthy and truly goaty. It had everything except the bell. 'It's a wild goat. From the mountains of Greece, from the shepherd,' explained Nikos, our expressive and brilliant waiter ('You can call me Niko, but when you refer to me it's Nikos'). Which shepherd and which mountain I forget, though I could imagine eating such a thing in a rustic Greek bap, up on a barren, dusty hill, the sun beating down, the fragrance of wild thyme around us, the stinky nose and high game flavour in tune with the environment. But on Kensington Church Street, west London? We asked for a gutsy red to help tone it down. Along came two glasses of something from Crete. That, with some sweet gravy, made it more metrosexually acceptable. Yet I salute the place for being so brave and authentic in serving such a thing. But then, it is called Krokodilos and one doesn't argue with a scary, sharp-toothed reptile. The goat came as the centrepiece of a satisfying spread served in a well-designed room of pale woods and brickwork, surrounded by shelves stuffed with bottles and ornaments, here and there dripping with greenery. There is comfy upright seating, soft lighting and a large, heavy marble-topped bar at one end. Nikos enthused passionately about the menu – we were, apparently, in for some Greek masterpieces, a combination of authenticity and creativity. We started with 'taramas cream', which could be the name of a Jilly Cooper character. It came as a ripple of roe with a confit egg yolk, which we mixed in to give an orange tint and a touch of richness to the smoky roe. We had it with a 'village bread' which, Nikos explained, was 'potato bread' – and with whole chunks of potato baked into the dough, it sure as hell was. It was a little heavy and I reckon the tarama would be better served by something lighter with more crunch. Next up was a Greek salad, just like the dakos ones of Crete, with those grey-looking large and crunchy croutons. The tomatoes were fabulously steeped in oil and perfectly room-temperature, and on top there was a big, delicious wedge of feta. Then came rabbit livers, a dozen rich pink beauties in oil and herbs. These were the best livers I've had in a while; something that enhanced my love and admiration for the cooked bunny. A dish of octopus was not as good as the one at Kima, that Marylebone marvel, this version being drenched in too much cream, chopped tomatoes and other stuff. The goat followed, served with a large bowl of trahanas. This, Nikos explained, was a kind of Greek porridge, or a soup of cracked wheat and fermented dairy. It was perked up with thyme and a Greek hard cheese called graviera. It helped to further tame, or maybe swamp, the goat, which was a good thing. And we refused to be defeated by the meat, attacking it with that wine and sauce and porridge. So this was hearty stuff: all bold flavours and no-punch-pulling bravura. And it came with a bill to match, due to Nikos's skill in wine-upselling, which moved a generous spread of refined taramasalata, good Cretan salad, rabbit livers, octopus, porridge and goat up to the £300 mark (OK, we shared three starters and, technically, three mains). That included a Cretan white that lacked the smoothness of a great assyrtiko (£75 a bottle), the feisty but plonky red, which was £27 each for two medium glasses, and no pud. Still, a big hand to Nikos for selling then bearing those gifts with such panache.
The Guardian
31-01-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Krokodilos, London W8: ‘I like this place' – restaurant review
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? But perhaps you're already saying no, thank you, having been burnt by other renditions of allegedly traditional Greek food in Great Britain. Yes, there are some fine examples out there – my beloved Hand Cafe in Stratford, east London, for one, where sweet bougatsa, good coffee and the likes of fragrant, freshly made courgette and feta strifti are to be found – but who among us has not, at some point, stared sadly at a bowl of roughly chopped red onion, unripe tomato and unlovable, catering-pack feta and muttered: 'This is not how the Greek salad was when we were on holiday.' Here at Krokodilos, however, there's a sense that Togias and his team are aching to change all that. From the dozen or so starter options, some are instantly recognisable. Yes, there's tarama and whipped fava, through which to scoop some lovely fermented potato flatbread, but there is also much more unusual and unexpected stuff, such as sharp, citrussy stone bass dressed in blood orange and fennel. Even a humble-sounding 'beetroot salad' turns out to be a rather complex plate of beets, fermented apple, peanuts, raisins and galomizithra cheese. That apparently predictable taramasalata, by the way, is miles away from the pink, whiffy mush to which we have somehow grown tolerant as a nation. Krokodilos' 'taramas cream' is the richest, most decadent bowl of pale, barley-coloured, salty, cured roe (bottarga from Messolonghi, no less) with a judicious scattering of dill and topped with a runny egg yolk. 'I like this place,' I said while devouring this pungent concoction. 'It's well handy.' There are tiny, romantic tables, as well as larger areas for groups, should you need them, plus it's in a part of London where good, reasonably priced places to eat at and/or entertain are all too rare. The mains menu is equally enthralling. A properly good rabbit stifado, monkfish fricassée, grilled octopus with a vièrge emulsion and lamb dolmadakia … So I was at fault for ordering the prawn saganaki – not because it wasn't delicious, but because I was wearing white, and foolishly imagined that I'd be able to eat this generous and heady tomato, feta and prawn stew and emerge unsplattered. I began with aplomb, dipping the remains of my wild mushroom-topped flatbread into the sauce, but things got messy very soon thereafter. The front of house, thankfully, feigned ignorance and swept me into the dessert selection, from which the Greek yoghurt with quince and cardamom oil might seem the healthy option, but it is served as if it's the star of the show, in a supremely elegant glass and with a recommendation to pair it with an eight-year-old Gaia vin santo. We also cleared a karidopita chocolate and walnut cake with kaimaki ice-cream. Krokodilos is flying way under the radar right now, possibly due to its location, the time of year and the fact that its owners have opened so many places at roughly the same time. But what we have here is a very amenable place to spend a couple of hours, imagining you're feeling the sun on your face when in reality you won't see it for another six months. Bring a bib, order the saganaki and think of summer. Better days are ahead. Krokodilos Lancer Square, 28A Kensington Church Street, London W8, 020-8191 2783. Open all week, lunch noon-3pm, dinner 5.30-10pm. From about £50 a head for three courses, plus drinks and service
