El Pirata of Mayfair – Review

El Pirata wasn’t born yesterday; it’s thirty-one years old, which means it was actually born last century. When so many culinary trends come and go, so many foodie band wagons crash and burn, its survival is no mean feat. El Pirata is a tapas bar with a don’t fix what isn’t broken mentality. With no ideas above its station, no planned franchising, many staff who’ve worked here for over ten years, against the odds, it’s hung on to its back street credibility whilst retaining its Mayfair kudos.

Keen to entice the wandering tourist as well as the discerning local, El Pirata’s front door boasts many an antiquated sticker ratifying the venue; Hardens from 2014, Zagat from 2012, Time Out from 2010, and Square Meal from 2009. Defying expectation, the interior resembles a Mock Tudor British pub albeit with an abundance of twists. Dark wooden flooring and rafters accentuate the white ceiling and a long bar with multitudinous coloured bottles stretches along its right flank. A small, Narnia type Victorian street lamp lights up a downward spiralling staircase and walls are covered in colourful Spanish prints – mainly by Picasso and Miró. What could be a plundered castle gate or a contraption for drying pirate clothes hangs from the ceiling but this chunky lattice, it turns out, is just a curious decoration. 

We take an eminently quaffable Margarita whilst perusing the sharing menu. It takes us a while to come to terms with the latter’s Spanish flair but the Mini Bun Chorizo y huevo (quail egg) stands out and is an immediate corker; exotic comfort food which would also delight for breakfast, lunch or, given its dainty size, hors d’oeuvres. The bagel is warm and sweet, the egg fried but with runny yolk, the chorizo subtle in its spice and pleasingly presented as a paste rather than sliced sausage. Eat it in one if you dare, or two if you prefer to savour the experience as the ingredients meld deliciously together. Served with a chunk of lime and a dollop of aioli dipping sauce, Buñuelos de gambas are closely related to Chinese Prawn Balls. The size of a large marble, these prawn fritters are all killer, no filler. The crispy batter is thin and adds texture to the delightful and chunky prawns.

Flying its flag proudly, El Pirata only stocks Spanish wine but does offer three champagnes (as well as cava). Given the eclectic menu, we take glasses rather than a bottle. The Sabina Estate ‘Navarra’ Chardonnay is creamy and smooth and with a hint of oak works well with meat and fish. Our selection suddenly comes thick and fast and it’s a veritable feast. Lubina a la plancha con mojo rojo picon (seabass) is cooked in butter so that its bottom is crispy as well as the skin on its top. Meat is succulent and served with spicy red pepper sauce and stalks of al dente broccolini. Squid and potato (Pulpo al pirata), may not sound the most inspired choice and its presentation looks a little muddy, a little muddled with neither one ingredient nor the other standing out. It far exceeds expectations, however.

Slick and oily and super garlicy, the potatoes are mixed with paprika and the octopus is way softer than anticipated. Boiled and then quickly cooled in ice to retain tenderness, the mollusk’s traditional chewiness is noticeably absent here. The mushrooms are also super garlicy (‘if you want to fend off vampires’, our waitress warned), are breadcrumbed and sliced in extended chunks. At some point we switch to a red wine. It’s all such a happy blur, I forget which one but it pairs perfectly with the Chorizo a la Sidra, another unexpectedly succulent dish. Cooked and swimming in cider, the chorizo tends more towards the viscous than the solid, as if its meat contained large pockets of fat (which it doesn’t). I don’t think I’ve ever had chorizo melt in my mouth before so this is an impressive first. 

Like many a restaurant these days, El Pirata plays music. But unlike many a restaurant (most, many, all!?), the music isn’t overbearing. Quite the reverse. Diners’ chatter is so constant and chirpy that conversation overwhelms the music. Everyone is casually smart but not crazily dressed up. Age is mixed, probably on the more mature side but botox and plastic have been eschewed for an overall more naturalistic presentation. No hen parties scream, no city boys bellow, a six year old even sits, interested, with his parents and never once resorts to an i-pad. Atmosphere is relaxed and familial and no one seems like they’re trying too hard. People seem genuine, relaxed, happy to be here. All in all, it really doesn’t feel like a typical central London crowd which is refreshing.

Dessert is a tough call but we make the right choices. I go all-in-European for a Spanish version of French toast, slightly concerned the ice cream addition won’t convince me this is anything other than a confused breakfast. The small brick sized toast is caramelized, and the bread sweet, fluffy and light, quite possibly brioche. Ice cream is pineapple in flavour. It’s familiar but exotic, playful and commanding and another must-order dish. My friend’s Tarta Santiago is a traditional Galician cake. With its marzipan texture, the almond’s influence is subtle and accentuated by the raspberry coulis for an all round deceptively delicate, fragrant finale. We sip some Santalba Las Flores dessert wine and toast another thirty years for El Pirata, hoping it never changes.