Zucca London

Zucca London

Where:
Zucca London
184 Bermondsey Street
London SE1 3TQ

Phone:
+44 (0)20 7378 6809 or fuck yeah, online booking (HK, Y U not as good at this as UK?!)

Price:
£123 (approx USD210) for two people (service charge is not included), excluding tip.  Three courses, but including a £45 bottle of spectacular as fuck Coppi Barberra bottle of red wine and a £10 glass of grappa.  Spoiler alert – you better fucking leave a goddamn tip here, motherfuckers.

The deal:
The UK Supercoach provided us with a list of UK recommendations and out of all of them, he declared that Zucca was the absolute must visit, fuck yeah stop.  Pro tips from the UK Supercoach also included do not order the carpaccio, the free bread will ensure that you forget the breadsticks at Grissini, get the zucca fritti, make sure to have at least one pasta (and if available, get the white truffle pasta) and the panna cotta. I may have received more than one reminder to get the panna cotta.  I fucking love people who have firm opinions about food (fuck, who would have guessed), everyone should take a vow not to be one of those bullshit friends who when you ask them for somewhere to go, they recommend some half-assed mediocre restaurant but when you really push them, they go “I mean, I guess it’s ok”.  Apathetic homies, Y U recommend just ok restaurant?!  Rules to fucking live by – make your words count for something, always!!

The service at Zucca was a top notch fuck yeah, with our waitress walking us through the menu, explaining all the Italian terms (without the vaguest hint of a condescension) and the backstory to some of the dishes. All the points in the goddamn universe for the menu which states boldly at the bottom “Using your mobile phone is unnecessary and anti-social” – ALL THE FUCK YEAHS EVER TO THIS SENTIMENT.  How fucking nice to be in a restaurant buzzing with people getting their nom on, talking to each other and there was only one guy who was on his goddamn mobile at the table.  No stupid fucking pauses for food photography , checking their blackberries or whatsapping with the fury of a thousand suns.  If you really want to see some pics, check out these beautiful as fuck pictures of Zucca over at The Hunt.  But really, carpe fuckin’ diem for once, you super connected assholes, you can exist outside of your mobile device I swear to god.

We followed the UK Supercoach playguide when it came to ordering.  At Zucca, they make all of their own bread, pasta and ice-cream.  The bread board contained a medley of different types of bread and came out with their own extra virgin olive oil, which is beautiful and green, grassy and complex which almost saw me ruin my appetite as I wanted to demand more bread to get more of dat oil into my life.  For entrees, we got the Zucca fritti and the vitello tonnato.  The Zucca fritti were fuck yeah, crispy as fuck, delicate batons of pumpkin tempura.  The vitello tonnato was a play on the Italian classic of the veal with the tuna flavoured mayonnaise – getting all vice versas chocolate styleez on it, serving barely seared tuna with a pork mayonnaise and  then thin slices of pork with a tuna mayonnaise. A serious fuck yeah, as we dragged fuck yeah bread through the remaining mayonnaise to ensure neither fish nor pig died in vain.

Mr Noms ruminated between getting the pork shoulder or the pork chop and I solved this dilemma by imploring him to consider ‘WWRS?‘ – What Would Roxette Say?

Appeared that the pork chop was calling to him and he tried to imply that I had pork chop envy.  But whoa, back that up homie, cause he was fucking wrong because my bucatini all’amatriciana was giving me life, with each tubular bucatini strand which had even more surface area than a solid linguini/spagetti, to carry dat rich as fuck tomato and pork cheek sauce into my life.

When the panna cotta with gooseberries arrived, I realised why the UK Supercoach had been so adamant that we order this.  Fuck yeah to panna cotta which quivvers to the touch but melted away once you ate this snowy white beauty.  I don’t want to get too Descriptive Food Wank 101 on yo ass but fuck meeeeee, this is probably one of the best panna cottas I’ve had in my entire life. Not being fucking dramatic either.

Sometimes it’s easy to get fatigued with boring as fuck, basic bitch Italian food – but then you have a meal like we did at Zucca, a serious boss bitch where there are NO lowlights and there is nothing more that you could fucking want. Mr Noms laid it down last night, taking price out of the equation saying “If it was free, where would you go back to – Dinner by Heston or here?”.  Which made me think about food and dining and all that bullshit – the tricks, the rankings, the stars, the hype, the photos, the techniques – but what does it all fucking count for?  Who really fucking cares – all I know is that I couldn’t get this magnificent, flaw-free, boss bitch out of my head all day, replaying the whole goddamn thing.

Verdict:
One of the best meals I’ve had so far this year. Fucking stunning.  FUCK YEAHHHHHHHHHH.

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