Yesterday we had the freedom to choose where we wanted to have our Sunday lunch. This is a rare pleasure – and one that throws up just a handful of names without us having to think to hard. We wanted cosy, friendly, good service and above all, good homely food. We wanted Assaggi.Once inside, the decor is reminiscent of a gentleman’s club – not strip club – the proper old fashioned wood lined varieties that graces Mayfair in days gone by. The table settings chic and simple, the menu being the thing to jumble your mind. It’s rare that more than one or two things jump off the page at you and negotiations and jostling of dishes so that all the flavours you now crave are fulfilled.
An amuse bouche of foie gras and a foie gras parfait was delivered which I have to say, was better that that served by Heston Blumenthaal at The Fat Duck, my old local. This you wanted to order as a main.
I opted for a gout fest with fresh king scallops, truffle butter and parmesan as a starter and the USDA steak with mushrooms as a main. The scallops parted with the side of my fork, the sauce devoured with the warm bread. Lip-licking good to steal an others phrase.The main could have fed both of us and I felt terribly guilty leaving a piece, even though I had stuffed myself beyond the legal limit. Towered roast potatoes and zucchini in what I think was a honey and orange glaze? John had the belly pork, Ivan’s signature dish, but I preferred my beef.
We didn’t even have the room to consider desserts – what we wanted to order was belly rubs on the sofa, in front of the fire. So we rolled ourselves home (I’m sure I heard the car groan when we got in) and did just that.
