Morchella, London EC1: ‘Decadent, surprising, weird and usually triumphant’ – restaurant review
Exmouth Market in London EC1 isn’t by any means a secret hotspot, but it’s a fair bit less trampled by food lovers than, say, Borough Market or Spitalfields. Sure, this thoroughfare may well be one of the nicest places in London to waste three to six hours over lunch, drinking vermouth and eating ice-cream, but it’s still a hard sell to tourists.
“Did you know that Moro was the birthplace of the British small plate?” I tell people, brightly. “And it’s so close to Sadler’s Wells, too!” Reactions are generally muted, but those naysayers will now miss out on Morchella, a new place by the people behind the much-loved Perilla up in Stoke Newington, which recently appeared on the corner of Rosebery Avenue inside an imposing, former late-Victorian bank. In recent years, this gargantuan space with its high ceilings has been leased by various pizza restaurants, so you’d expect that by now its yesteryear charm might have been somewhat flattened, but, oddly, it’s quite the opposite. In fact, due to Morchella’s revamp using natural wood herringbone floors, the ghosts of the London & South Western bank have never been so present.
What those ghosts might make of Morchella’s plates of salt-baked poussin and spanakopita, or its staff whizzing about in what looks like bottle-green haute couture prison garb, is anyone’s guess. The menu is a short, ever-changing list of reimagined Mediterranean classics. That sounds a little terrifying, I know, because who wants a riff on spaghetti vongole or panzanella? Well, it turns out, I do. Plus, it’s hard to argue with Morchella’s salt cod “churros”. God bless this earthly meeting of fish and doughnut; so crisp, so hot, so pungent. Much the same goes for the spanakopita, which is often served in hefty, ribsticking lumps, but here comes as dainty finger-food, with a rich, pond-green spinach filling wrapped in paper-thin pastry. These two “snacks” are essentially canapes on steroids.
This kitchen, which is led by Daniel Fletcher, is turning out an intense mix of decadent, surprising, weird and usually utterly triumphant dishes. Before coming, a scan of the menu had me hoodwinked that the place was channelling “relaxed and groovy Med vibes” with the likes of hake with sobrasada and a side of parmentier potatoes. That promised sunny, breezily served food to recreate warmer European climes. But nothing is slapdash or by chance at Morchella. It has one of those kitchens where the chefs care so much about the exact positioning of the vitello tonnato, it’s physically painful. No one is hurling pieces of monkfish at a cuttlefish stew in a “this will do” manner. This is not Club Med. Rather, it’s the Square in Speedos with a bucket and spade.
Other opening snacks include plates of good-quality coppa, mussels served pil pil style and hunks of freshly baked, spongey focaccia strewn with pepper dulse seaweed, or “the truffle of the sea” as it’s sometimes known. Later on, fat Orkney scallops arrive in their shells, topped with poached cauliflower and mushroom, and dotted with black pepper. A crunchy radicchio salad turns up power-dressed in garlic.
Yet despite all these serious flavours, Morchella also appears to be family-friendly – on the weekend we visited, there were lots of babies, lots of grans and lots of prams. Even an unadventurous eater would warm to the short-rib, baked slowly until soft, and topped generously with pickled, earthy, aged mushrooms. The result is extraordinary: this is a dish that looks like something dreamed up by JRR Tolkien, and is a rich mix of vinegary, piquant joy and soft, yielding beef. The meat-free, meanwhile, should try the parmigiana panzerotto, because it turns out that a calzone really does take on new life when fried.
The dessert list is short and sweet. On the day we went, there was a freshly made lemon tart and a stinky gorgonzola with mustard fruits, both of which we need to go back for. Instead, we went for the pudding that will probably make all other puddings in 2024 seem lacklustre, namely blood orange and black olive portokalopita. This was stubby, fat, dense, glossy lump of what appeared to be sponge but was actually filo dough injected with syrup, which gave it a rather old-fashioned, suet pudding-like consistency. I’m a sucker for any posh pudding that feels as if it could have been steamed in the tin – plus, yes, it turns out that you can put black olives in a pudding, especially if you then serve it with a wonky quenelle of cream flecked with lemon zest. Sweet, slightly bitter, decadent and, thanks to the chopped orange, one of your five a day.
So, sure, Exmouth Market may not be as well known or popular as Covent Garden or Notting Hill. But when it comes to eating lunch, I know where I’d rather be.
Morchella 84-86 Rosebery Avenue, London EC1, 020-7916 0492. Open lunch Weds-Sat noon-2.30pm; dinner Tues-Sat 5.30-10pm; Sun noon-6.30pm. From about £50 a head (service included), plus drinks
Grace’s Comfort Eating podcast is back for its sixth season – listen to new episodes every Tuesday here
