As you may know I am the proudest Italian guy based in London. Ok, this is not true. But I love food and I am actually fond of Italian food, and although I’ve been here long enough to classify myself half-British – yes, I do enjoy my cup of tea rigorously with milk – I like exploring, or better, criticizing Italian restaurants and make fun of all those not-Italian-at all dishes or “traditions” all these companies claim to be. I am quite picky and strict when it comes to Italian food. Why? I’ve grown up with amazing meals prepared by family where everything is fresh and healthy. How can I compare some spaghetti with ragú with that glued-Bolognese (pronounced bolonais?! Exactly! BOLONAIS?!?!) and expired-minced meat you find at Pizza Express? Or bread with Tesco tomato sauce and mozzarella they proudly call Margherita?
Food in Italy is a lifestyle and so is the place where you sit down and enjoy doing what Italians like the most: eating. In Italy, there’s no such a thing as McDonald’s, we have it but that’s not a restaurant. When choosing a restaurant, customers follow a list of things which are essential for a restaurant to be considered: the location (preferably with a view), the food (we need to know what the menu is like), the inside décor (everything needs to have a style, the more stylish, the more feel-at-home vibe you will feel), the atmosphere (first impression is vital), the price (which is kind of unconsidered because quality of food is more important).
Now, based on this list, based on my patriotism and my love for my country … I decided to have a normal meal at two of the most famous and known restaurant chains in the UK: Bella Italia and Ask Italian and see how Italian they are and how Italian I felt as soon as I walked in and tried a bit of “traditional Italian food”.
Disclaimer: If you love one or both places, I suggest you close this article. This is not for you.
Let’s start with not-so-Bella Italia. This is one of those places where the more I go, the more I decide not to go back, the more I end up there. As soon as I walk in the waiter doesn’t say “Ciao” or “Hi”. No greetings. First impression? Fail. What have I done to you? But he soon asks us if we need a table for two. The atmosphere is nice and welcoming, the walls house shelves of Italian wine and oils (which you can buy because there’s prices all over them), it is very typical for Italian restaurants to have homemade wine or oil on display. There’s also posters of old Italian movies which I quite enjoy. The floor is not full of customers, who are somewhat spread out around. What catches my eye is the “spritz menu” on our table: one spritz for £6,99. Mate, its £1,50 back home. Are you even joking?
14 minutes after (yes, I counted) a man asks us what we want. I go for a normal Romana which is a margherita with ham on top; Barbi, my adventure companion decides for canuli of mushrooms. We wait more, and more, and more … 26 minutes later, a different waiter comes back with our food and since I am starving I get into it.
Barbi’s pasta tastes good, it’s fresh and made with eggs although there’s no parmesan and they didn’t even ask if we want it. My pizza is horrible! The ham is so thick it looks like steak! I also decide to try their “cheesy crust” -definitely not Italian. Slightly mixed with garlic. Ok, never again!
But I still want to give it a try, Bella Italia, I am not leaving until I have something nice from you. I try something else, I am still hungry anyway.
“Do you want to share a mozzarella in carrozza?” I ask Barbi. She agrees. It consists of breaded mozzarella with oil and a bit of salad. One of the most tasteful traditions we have in Italy. We wait more- seems like waiting is a common thing here. Maybe half an hour?
Here it is, it looks good and guess what? It tastes amazing. Too bad it’s the only thing I loved.
We ask for our bill. And it comes up to nearly £50. Holy Moly! What did we eat? Caviar? Definitely not worth it, I convince myself I paid £50 for the mozzarella. It is too early to give our verdict. A bit disappointed but it’s time to wave our goodbye to our waiter, again no bye for me. Still wondering what I might have done.
A few days later, I find myself sat at Ask Restaurant in central London (or Ask Italian for us, Italians). First time for me here so it all has to impress.
Despite my bad expectations from Bella Italia, I get greeted by a smiley young girl who asks me where I want to sit. The restaurant is very small, minimalistic, a traditional style where the colours used are beige, blue and grey. It looks like a kitchen, there’s glasses stacked on shelves on my right hand side and a huge window overlooking the high street on the other side, lights are warm and plants are hanging off the ceiling. There’s a bar not far from my table full of bottles and a mocha machine. The place is not crowded but there’s a good atmosphere. Fast forward to my order, I try again with a pizza. I want a simple margherita with olives on top. It soon gets to me; its shape is weird but I give it a bite.
Tastes good but it’s not properly baked. I can taste the flavour.
“Can I have some red wine?” I ask. I feel like wine tonight.
I soon realise she brings me some Nero D’Avola and what I could’ve paid £3 for a bottle back in my hometown, it’s now £7 for a glass. That’s a no for me but I am too excited to taste good red wine.
I sit back and relax. I am tired. I would definitely chose Ask over Bella Italia. But there’s still something missing. I can’t figure out what though.
“Would you like a coffee or any dessert?” she kindly asks. “I don’t drink coffee, sorry and I am full up, can I please get my bill?” Here’s another £21,50, for my dinner at Ask Italian.
Back to the question, Bella Italia or Ask Italian, where do I go? Which is the one that gives me that Italian feeling? Where can I take my parents out when they come visit me?
My verdict is … go to La Forchetta, in Bethnal Green: owned by Italians, reasonable prices, tasty and traditional food.
Words: Sal Fasone | Subbing: Melina Zachariou