Sartoria Liverpool Street – Restaurant Review

Sir Terence Conran’s original Sartoria was inspired by Milanese restaurants where dining and fashion were as important as the food. Sartoria, Saville Row helped define 1990s Mayfair, so it’s easy to argue a younger sibling is well overdue, especially now the ambitious Evolv Collection has taken over Conran’s legacy. Blink and you still won’t miss the few-month-old spot on the historically resonant New Street. Backed up by a bunch of bright and rambunctious Aperol coloured parasols, Sartoria’s name stands tall in an elegant, white font against a black background. Above the sign, a Victorian lantern shines. 

The entrance is a narrow climb, literally, twelve steps up from the courtyard. Inside, Sartoria kow-tows to unfussy and timeless elegance, where white cotton table cloths and napkins still rule supreme but bronze lamps hold court. Everything is dramatic in its darkness and minimal in decoration, although the handful of moody black and white photos don’t display Sophia Loren, Ferrari or Dean Martin but rather the technique of dress-making. A couple of busts, one of an unnamed Roman Emperor, the other, a saucy and sozzled moon face advertising a product called ‘Rossi’, add playful decoration, confirming the space is more than a stiff paean to stuffiness. Overall, the entrance is transformative; goodbye England, hello Italy. 

I was running twenty minutes late, so I needed an immediate pick-me-up/calm-me-down. Sartoria’s main menu offers three aperitivos: Peach Bellini, Campari Spitz and, my go-to, a Negroni, which was pretty perfect and did its job impeccably. That said, for more choice, make sure you don’t miss the bar menu as we did. It lists a load of Signature Cocktails, including the evocatively titled Saville Stitch, Weekend in Milano, Il Sarto and Via Brera, all of which take the restaurant’s mythology and run with it.

Between Cicchetti e Pane, Antipasti, Primi Piatti and Secondi, it’s never an easy decision working out which courses to have and how many portions thereof. After a quick QnA session, our waiter advises and comes up with what sounds like a five-a-side football formation. Cichetti e Pani sits on the bench in favour of a two-two-one or a two-one-two. We opt for the latter. 

Antipasti is certainly a tough call with both Insalata di Polpi and Carpaccio di Filetto garnering lengthy discussions, but we eschew both. The Vittello Tonnato (Veal Carpaccio with Tuna and Caper sauce) presents simplicity as elegance. The veal slices are thin and perfectly pink, the tuna mayo is fishy, maybe with some anchovy, but not overpowering, while pickled, coloured cauliflower adds a crunchy texture and capers, a tang. The Crudo Di Tonno is a less pure tuna tartar than some, spiced up and flavoured with dill, tomatoes, Tropea onions and a green oil, but is moreish to the last. 

The Calamarata Alla Pescatora garners immediate murmurs of admiration from both my friend and I. This pasta belongs to the paccheri family and receives its name from squid, which it resembles in its tubelike form. Large enough to hide some of the seafood inside, or like clunky finger jewellery,  there’s a magnificence about this pasta. Its size and al dente chewiness make it feel like the main event and, of course, the succulent mussels, the finely cut, tender red prawns and the lobster bisque type sauce make it a joyous dish. My friend even notes its worthy of her favourite restaurant in Venice.  

I take a glass of Dolcettta d’Alba, Brezza, Piedmont with my Filetto al Pepe Verde. The Aberdeen Angus is sustainably raised and grass-fed and comes medium rare. It’s thick and chunky and is presented in a green pepper sauce full of fresh peppercorns, which burst with herbaceous crispiness. My friend takes a San Vincenzo, Anselmi, Soave with her Tonna Alla Puttanesca. The finger-sized strips of tuna are super rare, super tender, taste like they’ve been thrown in a hot pan and ripped out almost immediately. A reductive and rich tomato sauce with basil leaves, olives and capers renders the dish a romance for my friend. Special mention goes to the Patate Al Forno contorti, super fluffy on the inside, light but super crispy on the outside; an unexpectedly pure potato offering which wipes up the sauce from both Secondi dishes. 

Special mention should also go to Sartoria’s Italian themed playlist, geographically specific but stylistically and chronologically expansive. Expect therefore, anything from sixties Doo Wop to seventies Prog Rock to eighties Synth with everything in between including Mambo, Disco, Spaghetti Western, and House music. If it sounds distracting, it most certainly isn’t; eclectic it may be, exuberant it most certainly is.

Dolci consists of four choices but Tiramisu wins out as it always should and, much like in every Italian Restaurant, design and taste are idiosyncratic in the best way. Served at the table from a deep, seventies-style glass bowl, we share one portion. On closer inspection, it looks like slabs of marble sunk into concrete. It certainly isn’t as viscous as some, is relatively firm in texture and doesn’t fall apart upon first spoonful. Amaretto seems more located in the sponge, which is less soggy than many whilst the cream is thick and fresh. We love it. On our way out, the chef flits by. We have time to congratulate him on his great work, but not to ask if the Tiramisu is a family recipe. Either way, his mother would be very proud.