Sucre Restaurant London – Review

Slap bang in the heart of the West End, Great Marlborough Street runs perpendicular to Carnaby Street and parallel to Oxford Street. It might be one of central London’s more soulless thoroughfares but Sucre’s pretty entrance, towards the Wardour Street end, is anything but. A gold-leafed relief swirls above a no-nonsense door on either side of which two small yellow awnings hang brightly and green metal railings edge out carefully. There’s a quiet pride at play here wherein this dainty entrance with its green potted ferns belies the bustle and largesse of its interior. 

Diners can either hang out at or barge through the packed but neat and petite bar on the left, into the main dining area which feels like half the size of a professional football pitch but, due to mirrors on three of its four walls, is not. The space is dramatic, though. Twelve chandeliers made up of wine decanters hang in straight, parallel lines and seem to stretch to eternity. Ceiling and walls are exposed a bare light grey or dull white and speakers hang high for a pumping soundtrack. We have a 19.00-20.45 booking so the crowd is very much post office; groups of men wearing multitudinous shades of blue button-up shirts with a few white shirts and women thrown in for good measure. 

Cocktails are generally named in Spanish or have Latin American themes. The charmingly titled Silly Goose is one exception and the geographically misplaced Tokyo, another. Smoky Saint with its ‘illegal’ mezcal sounds like an interesting option though we honour the restaurant’s signature and the capital of the country that inspires its cooking. Sucre Spritz’s mix of grapefruit infused tanqueray, and aperol is heady and refreshing and has a sweet apricot tang. My Buenos Aires is a slower, more intriguing quaff. Casamigos reposado and campari form its main ingredients, whilst a couple of orange-flavoured bitters are added for the aforementioned intrigue. Overall, it’s a South American twist on the Negroni where Mexcal, Campari and aniseed blend famously. 

There’s no time to hang around – the starters arrive moments after the cocktails. We’ve taken our waitress at her word and ordered her recommendations throughout. Served in a healthy puddle of olive oil, the sea bream is, effectively, a ceviche, although the fish is only mixed with lime moments before serving so it’s not overly ‘cooked’ by the fruit’s acidity. Small chunks of grapefruit and smaller chunks, niblets if you will, of strawberry and rhubarb add a sweet and sour sensation as well as bright colouring for an all round fresh, refreshing dish. We eat this before our lamb belly, which comes skewered, on a garlic/yoghurt mix and with green pickled pepper. It’s not a million miles away from a posh kebab. The lamb is slow-cooked for twelve hours before its final barbecue for simultaneous super succulence but crispy exterior, making it a rich and standout offering. 

If the music certainly isn’t Argentinian and the interior design might be stretching the notion of Argentinian, it’s the country’s tradition of open fire cooking which is at the heart of Sucre’s Argentinian ethos, something very evident in our mains. Although there’s a smaller bone for finger licking and slurping, the Dingley pork chop’s majority is served off bone. It’s a hearty portion and is lightly seasoned with a sprinkling of salt. Overall, it’s possessed of a cleanliness and purity and chunks of apricot add a pleasing sweetness, as does a darker apricot ketchup. In a similar vein, the Sea bass with spring greens is filleted but the spine and cheek bones remain. It’s pleasantly heavy in garlic with both a paprika-influenced confit and a handful of roasted, mushy cloves which pervade the dish. The green leaves are thick and also chargrilled so that overall it’s another pure dish which reminds of Mediterranean (and presumably Argentinian) BBQs with freshly sourced fish. Do watch out for the eyes however.

The desert selection is small but exotic, and our offerings look like exercises in shape recognition and differentiation. The Dulce de leche fondant reminds a little of the leaning tower of Pisa and comes with a healthy dollop of pure mascarpone, a sprinkling of hazelnuts and an artist’s brushstroke of caramel.     It’s like a volcano without the eruption or an above ground erectable swimming pool full of caramel spread. It’s epic, rude in its unhealthy healthiness, a show-stopper for sure. Is it better than the exotic Coriander seed custard tart with lemon sorbet and pecans, though? Not to be confused with coriander leaf, of course, this is a gooey rather than viscous delight with a slightly nutty twang. It’s an unusual combination but another show-stopper for sure, one to be savoured to the last.