As a twenty-six year old, I should be getting excited about venturing into the boudoir of a insouciant lady, I have just met on tinder or going on a multi-faceted narcotic induced night out.

At the very least I should be licking my lips at the prospect of eventually getting a pay rise, so that I can finally afford to rent a deprived two-bedroom flat in the asshole end of Tooting.

Yet, it is the walk across the railway bridge, where Nightingale Lane meets Bellevue Road which gives me the greatest satisfaction, not because I enjoy urban rambling, nor because I take joy in walking past the resplendent, fellow young professionals, smoking their lives away outside ‘The Hope’, but because my destination is Chez Bruce.

Perhaps I am biased? I have been venturing to Chez Bruce for over 15 years, for such a time in fact, that when I started going, there was a Bruce (Poole) to be Chez, now we’re hosted by the genius of Matt Christmas’s creations.

In this day and age of declining teenage pregnancy rates and the rapid ascent of erectile dysfunction a prognosis accredited to online pornography, surely it would be easy for the government to shut down all porn websites and hence solve the problem?

No – for Matt Christmas’s Instagram account would still be in existence, hence providing us a month’s worth of sexually stimulating material, posted free of charge, and filtered into perfectly plated daily posts.

I was having a religious experience whilst I flicked through photos of such dishes as; Boudin Noir, Feuillete of braised rabbit leg, caramelised apples & mustard and Roast Scallops, beurre noisette, sherry vinegar, chorizo, cauliflower and marcona almonds.

In this somewhat painfully political correct world we now live in whereby the next thing to be made illegal is; happiness, good wine and delicious food, Chez Bruce’s effortless charm and aura wraps itself round your mind, body and soul as soon as you step into the restaurant.

The same feeling one would have when they eventually managed to secure a table here under its former patron, Mr Marco Pierre-White when this building was the two Michelin starred Harvey’s.

It holds onto the unapologetic mantra of those times which is something like ‘viciously attractive food, wonderful service and somewhere one can truly relax’ (probably sounds better if said in French or Latin).

Alas, on this occasion things didn’t get off to an ideal start, as shortly after being showed the menu, whilst I allowed for their exquisite parmesan biscuits, dusted in sesame and caraway seeds, to melt away between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, I asked to see the manager as I regretfully had a complaint.

My complaint was simple, ‘There are too many delicious options on this menu, its impossible to make a decision, even the vegan options are transpiring into dopamine and tap dancing their way into my cerebellum’.

After all how does one choose between; leek, potato and smoked haddock soup with warm gougeres and tagliatelle with braised rabbit, white wine, chanterelles, truffles and cream?

Well I simply couldn’t make the decision, hence I decided to start with the St Austell Bay mussels with monk’s beard, fish goujon, tomato, chilli and gremolata.

When I had sufficiently turned my back on my doctors’ orders to lower my cholesterol and had inhaled at least 3 slices of homemade focaccia and half a dairy yard full of delicious home whipped butter, I smiled and started gazing out over Wandsworth Common.

They’ve done a great job with the interior of the restaurant whereby you can peer out under the silk blinds and admire the world unravelling, but the outside world (the muggles, well, for the duration of your meal at least) can’t really see you.

Whilst discussing with my dining partner how Blexit (the mass exodus of African Americans from the Democrat Party) was far more interesting than the monotony of Brexit, our starters arrived with a liquid companion of 2016 Riesling, from Weingut Wittmann, Rheinhessen, Germany.

The dish was a triumph, if not a little too colourful, as it was almost like being forced to stare at Jackson Pollocks confession, through the median of acrylic paint.

However, texture and flavour wise it was absolutely glorious, the softness of the mussels, the crispness of the goujons, the heat from the chili, a quite magnificent zesty gremolata.

All transported free of charge, from provincial French porcelain into ones gut through a rich, almost arrogant peppery tomato sauce.

Having had seamlessly no time to digest nor praise my starter, I was almost immediately met with my main course, Roast Cod with olive oil mash, Provençale vegetable relish, grilled leeks and samphire.

Now upon reading such a humble description of the dish I am sure the majority of readers would back themselves to be able to recreate this dish from the comfort of their own homes, however, this is what makes this restaurant worth coming back for time and time again – technique!

The mash was as silky as a scammers offer, the cod triumphantly brandishing its crispy skin whilst retaining its soft, meaty and delicate flesh.

The sweet leeks had been charred over an open flame and then allowed ‘thirty seconds of fun’ with butter in a pan and then paired perfectly with the tart vegetable relish.

I thought the dish could have easily been served without the samphire, although it was al dente and rather delicious, it didn’t seem to take the dish to a higher plain.

As it was a Sunday I don’t think I could have, legally, chosen any other way, but to go for; Bramley apple crumble with clotted cream and butterscotch sauce.

I sat with a glass of 2003 Grahams Vintage Port in my hand awaiting the sweet delights of the world’s first recorded culinary ‘threesome’ of apple, crumble and cream, whilst staring at the stunning young couple who were sat down opposite me, and thinking to myself, as they are so in love, are they enjoying todays proceedings even more than I am?

But whilst piercing the brown sugar crumbled top, placing a finely sliced morsel of Bramley apple on my silver spoon and then drenching the items in clotted cream and homemade butterscotch sauce (with just the most subtle hint of vanilla), I was reminded of that quote by the modernist Virginia Woolf.

‘One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well’

I then laughed and thought, well after a meal here, the pressure’s really on you now, you bastard!

3 Courses for £45

Lunchtime Set Menu

2 Bellevue Rd, London SW17 7EG

Having personally worked in the wonderful world of ‘Lifestyle PR’ where the requirements to work are simple; a hatred of your competitors, basic Microsoft skills and an unapologetic love for the clients mantra ~ I know that new restaurant opening reviews can be misleading.

Hence, when I kept on reading incredible reviews about ‘Maremma’, I was weary and yet at the same time excited, it’s hard enough charming the bloke from ‘The Brixton Gazette’ let alone ‘The Evening Standard’.

Maremma is celebrating ‘The Maremma’ an unspoilt region of Tuscany, known for its high-quality seasonal produce – from its game (regarded as the best in Italy) to its seafood from the Tyrrehenian Sea.

Executive Head Chef Alice Staple has created a concise menu circulating around simple and seasonal regional specialities with fresh pasta made daily in-house and meat and fish cooked on the open flame charcoal grill.

Perhaps we were lucky with the weather, but nevertheless upon arrival you’re immediately swept into the most glorious of atmospheres inside the restaurant, one which even Shakespeare would agree would be the perfect staging for a modern adaptation of ‘Midsummers Night Dream’.

The double doors are flung open onto the most graceful of roads in Brixton Water Lane, the room is light and airy, simple wooden tables are ordained with hand stitched linen and the centre piece of the restaurant, an elegant light-marine tinted bar which ebbs and flows to become the open kitchen, provides the heartbeat of the room.

Out host is a young Italian lady who is excited to serve us and has seemed to inhale all the notes from the Sommelier and Head Chef Dominique Goltinger as she effortlessly advises us through both wine and food menus respectively.

It must be noted that their wine menu is innovative to the point whereby all the offerings have never been available before in the UK, hence ‘Goodbye Whispering Angel’ and ‘Hello Costa Toscana, La Fralluca Viognier’.

A deliciously fresh baked Focaccia arrives on our table with our wine as we start to attack the menu and attempt to make our minds up on what we’re going to be regretting not having rather than celebrating what we have had (the menu looks that exquisite).

A touch that didn’t go unnoticed was the delivery of a small ramekin dish of olive oil (not unusual with bread I hear you say), but backed up with an even smaller petri dish of Malden sea salt for those of us who like to ‘over salt’ our focaccia, I must say the bread was perfectly seasoned and even I didn’t delve into the petri dish.

As we were dining ‘comme trois’ it gave us an opportunity to take on a large majority of the menu, especially when we decided to get four starters as we couldn’t decide what to leave out.

The Acquacotta Maremmana with poached hen egg was absolutely divine and although traditionally peasant food in its origin,  there was nothing which wasn’t regal about this dish.

The rich soup crafted by slowly boiling onions, chard, cabbage, summer leaves and thickened with red wine and pecorino Toscano would have been the perfect start to an evening of culinary excellence alone, but with the addition of the salty, warm and runny yolk running through the dish, you’re taken to new heights.

What better way to be able to mop up the yolky and veggy soup remnants than with a freshly baked slice of country bread, toasted and rubbed with the cut end of 1 clove of raw garlic – heaven.

The Tortelli Maremmani, heritage tomatoes and basil did something to me that no other pasta dish has done before, especially not a vegetarian one, it slapped me round the face continuously until I admitted to myself, in fact realised, that Pasta dishes can be worthy of three Michelin stars.

Every component which went into that dish was of the highest order; the heritage tomatoes were still bouncing with flavour but not overpowering, their sharpened sweetness cutting brilliantly through the freshly made tortelli pasta. The ricotta and basil sat almost arrogantly awaiting judgement inside the tortelli, awaiting its call to be able to explode onto our taste buds and dance the tarantella whilst proclaiming like the genie in Alladin ‘you aint never had a taste like me’.

I had to call the waitress over and double check that I wasn’t being pranked here and this was merely a simple Tuscan pasta dish as written out on the menu, she confirmed it was and in that moment I didn’t know whether to be happy for this culinary gift or sad that it had taken me 26 years to receive it.

The Pappardelle with wild boar ragu was the only mildly disappointing starter if truth be told, the pappardelle although wonderfully fresh and vibrant is only meant to play a supporting role to the main part of the dish in the wild boar ragu and sadly this is where the dish fell flat.

I have had many fine ragu’s in my lifetime and none more so delicious than the one on offer at The Bobbin Pub in Clapham Old Town, they seem to get the balance right between soft slowly cooked wild boar, slightly al dente onions, and an almost sweet yet rich and peppery sauce to marry the pasta with the boar.

The ragu on offer at Maremma was perfectly delicious it just lacked a tiny bit of something special compared with its compatriots and could have done with at the very least a pinch of freshly ground black pepper, it was more of a stubborn singleton ragu as it were, the pappardelle and the ragu flirting with one another yet refusing to marry.

Then came the highlight of the primi’s for me in Risotto al nero di seppia a dish which was so elegant and attractive it wouldn’t have looked out of place across town at the Dior exhibition at the V&A.  It’s so often the case that squid is overdone, even at top establishments, especially when its cooked in a risotto but this was just sheer perfection.

The tender fresh squid has been lightly grilled in lemon juice over the open flamed grill and then transferred into the deep black sheen squid ink sauce, bringing a tangy salty sea flavour escalated further by the presence of garlic, parsley, black pepper, and a wonderfully dry Italian white wine.

For my main course I decided to go for the special which was grilled wild boar served with cannellini beans, heritage tomatoes, spinach and without doubt the highlight of the dish figs aged in barrels of balsamic vinegar.

Well the cannellini beans were lightly simmered and bursting from their skins with flavour, the spinach had been lathered generously in lemon juice and parmigiana, the tomatoes providing sweetness and a refreshing shot of liquid to the plate and the meat on the wild boar was simply supreme.

It was such a delicious cut of meat that no seasoning was really required it was as if the Boar had seasoned itself by what it had consumed the week before its untimely death, my only slight issue was the amount of fat served with the meat.

I am aware belly is definitively  fatty and of course pork even more so, but you’d have thought that like a slow roast they would have made the fat which was served on the plate, slightly more appealing, then just well-seasoned produce.

Could they cook the fat off in the oven at 220 degrees C for 2 hours and render some crackling? Then bring the meat and fat together just before plating and serve them in perfect harmony and in doing so create something which would stand out beyond compare?

Perhaps….either way it was delicious.

I was also luckily enough to have a slice of the Chargrilled tagliata of onglet served with rocket salad and I can confidently say it was the best tasting and best cooked piece of red meat I think I may of ever tasted.

When I started to look back over the menu I found myself planning what I was going to have upon my return to this wonderful new restaurant – well definitely the Chargrilled polpo, fave bean puree & parsley oil followed by the Wood-baked hake and clams, samphire and aioli, amongst many other stupendously glorious dishes.

The service is great here, the wine exciting and perfectly paired, the food delicious and beyond well priced and the restaurant itself truly beautiful, you could be in Montauk or Brooklyn or even Tuscany for that matter and you wouldn’t notice.

In fact you’re 20 seconds walk from the Brixton Hill large Sainsbury’s, yes not quite as glamorous as being within walking distance of Civitavechhia or the Tyrrhenian Sea but you’d never know.

I must say this is one of the most exciting neighbourhood restaurant’s I have been lucky enough to eat at in recent memory, you must all try and get a booking when and if you can, because this place is set to be the hottest new place in town.

PS.

If the Maître d’ could find an iron for his shirt that would be wonderful.