Cecconi’s is located on Burlington Gardens in Mayfair and has a reputation for serving posh Italian classics. The glamorous Venetian interior is fit for an oligarch, a sheikh, a designer accessorised cougar, or anyone who simply wants to flounce around in carefully chosen outfits, snapping photos for their Instagram feed. You’ll also spot middle-aged men dressed to the nines, sometimes with their families, clearly feeling the swag after getting out of bed on the right side. YOLO. Seemingly, it attracts those who spend more time getting dressed than eating. Oh, and the cost of the place might give some people vertigo – just saying. The man behind it all, Enzo Cecconi, was once lauded as the youngest-ever general manager of the legendary Cipriani in Venice. He opened Cecconi’s in London in 1978. If that doesn’t qualify as a mature history, I don’t know what does. Their arrival marked a turning point: for the first time, Londoners could order fresh pasta, beef carpaccio, tiramisu, rocket, and Bellini cocktails.
The bread a mix of crisp flat bread, sour dough and focaccia was decent dough but delightfully forgettable.
From the starters first comes the innocently named “cured meats” £17, a plate of salami, prosciutto, parma ham, mortadella and bresaola furnished with artichoke hearts, sun dried tomatoes, giant capers and gherkins. We’re off to a good start.
The arancini £6 supposedly came with aubergine, though it seemed to be missing in action – ho hum. No one here is trying to elevate the humble panko-crusted snack; it’s more of a filler to plug the gap than a dish to remember.
Things picked up with the red prawns £13 in spicy tomato sauce, served with a generous wedge of toasted sourdough slicked in olive oil. The prawns themselves were deeply decent – their heads ripe for twisting and sucking – but the sauce let them down. A watery afterthought, it was crying out for another five minutes on the stove to reduce and concentrate into something worthy.
Meatballs £8 are anchored down with a tomato sauce that has been slowed cooked so the olive oil separates creating a luscious red mess. They’re a gusty crowding pleasing choice, but the flavours lacked vigour – more depth was needed.
Grilled cauliflower with herbaceous salsa verde £12 is ordered from the “plant based” section, their florets are charred to a nice nuttiness and still have crunch to their core.
Burrata £15 gets a good drizzling of vivid olive oil and caponata, a sticky aubergine stew of sorts with pine nuts and raisins.
Calamari fritti £15 with lemon aioli was a noble duty of doing the simple things really well, I found myself nibbling on them with a glass of vino bianco.
My starter finally arrived: the octopus £15, nestled on luscious braised scarola (a posh lettuce), sharpened by salty olives and a pucker of tomato confit. The tentacles were meaty with pillowy centres and just the right amount of char. Easily the best thing I ate here – which probably says more about the rest of the meal than it does about the octopus.
A friend ordered the spaghetti lobster, he said it was nice but a touch boring for £29. At Signor Sassi it’s £32.60 but you’ll get a whole lot more and it taste like a celebration of lobster. You can check out my review of them by clicking here.
Seabass guazzetto £28 is a dish that another friend always orders, you says it’s good so I’ll need to take his word for for it.
The veal Milanese £32 arrived with a dusting of so-called ‘lemon salt’ – essentially grated rind and a grudging pinch of table salt. The meat itself had the texture of a desiccated flip-flop left too long in the sun, every chew a laborious reminder that moisture had long since packed its bags and fled. Honestly, it felt less like eating and more like punishment. To do this to a once-grass-fed animal borders on culinary vandalism. I wouldn’t return for it, not even if I was paid to do so.
The zucchini fritti £5 and sautéed spinach £5 were perfectly fine, nothing to write home about. But the roast potatoes – my God. Chalky, bone-dry, and with all the charm of something dragged from a freezer bag before a tragic dunk in the deep-fat fryer. I honestly wished they’d never turned up at the table; some foods are forgettable, these were actively regrettable.
Being belly-led and generally the mood to bust out top buttons, a mate and I ordered tomato spaghetti £8 as a side for a Milanese’s. At best the sauce was blunt, but the pasta was the best thing I ate since the octopus. It had the right amount of bite and tension that encouraged me to go after more mouthfuls.
The tiramisu £8.50 – it looked good but I didn’t try it.
The Italians know how to do a good coffee.
Verdict
When did I go? March 2019
The damage: Expect to pay £100/130 per head with vino
The good: Cecconi’s dazzles in style more than substance. Starters like the octopus and red prawns hit the mark, but mains, particularly the veal Milanese and chalky roast potatoes fall flat, leaving a trail of culinary disappointment behind the glittering Venetian veneer. Great for the Instagram crowd and a taste of nostalgia, less so for anyone chasing truly memorable food
The bad: At this cost the meal does encourage expectations but in the end the experience was as sharp as a sponge.
Rating: 2.5/5
Would I go again? Not happened yet.
Address: 5A Burlington Gardens, Mayfair, London W1S 3EP
Web: https://www.cecconis.co.uk
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