Spaghetti House, NW5

Sometimes people ask me when I’m going to move out of London.  Whenever this happens I think about what I’d miss most if I had to move, and without a shadow of a doubt it’d be the little, random, individual, neighbourhood restaurants which pepper this amazing city (yeah, in case you haven’t guessed, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon).  The kind of places you could walk past without looking twice, but venture into one – on a whim or a recommendation – and occasionally you’ll have your mind well and truly blown.  Prime examples of this are Guanabana and Fabrizio’s, and a little while ago I stumbled – almost literally – upon another one walking through Tufnell park on the way to a gig (The Bohicas, in case you’re interested, check them out here, they’re awesome, my ears are still ringing).

Spaghetti House is on the corner just opposite Tufnell Park station.  I think there’s a chain of restaurants with the same name but this definitely isn’t one of them.  This is proper Italian no-nonsense food and it makes my tummy and heart do a little dance remembering it.

For starter we had bruschetta and some (slightly disappointing tbh) calamari.  The calamari was a little on the greasy and heavy side, but the bruschetta… wow.  Fresher and sassier than a 15 year old after a litre of 20/20 (NB: MUM THAT TOTALLY NEVER HAPPENED) it was so simple and so beautiful.

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For main course we had a huge, rich meaty lasagne…

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^ phwoar

…and pillowy soft gnocchi – surprisingly light, as all good gnocchi should be – with tasty chorizo, a hint of chilli and tomato sauce.

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^ and lashings of parmesan, obviously

With this feast (and it really was a feast, they do Italian portions like a BOSS) we had booze, finished with a snifter of limoncello (like being on proper holiday in Norf Landan) and the whole meal came to… guess how much.  No, seriously, guess…

THIRTY SEVEN ENGLISH POUNDS *faints*

Which is insane, obviously.  I actually can’t believe it.  I don’t need to bother cooking food at home anymore.

They don’t take card (the people you’re dealing with have heard rumours about the 21st Century but are having nothing to do with it, apparently) but there’s a cashpoint at the Sainsbury’s down the road.

Buon appetito (*Italian high five*)

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