The Counter at Sabor

Sabor (which appropriately means 'flavour' in Spanish) has only been open for a few short months and is already making waves; at the recent Estrella Damm National Restaurant Awards it was named second best restaurant in the UK behind Kiln, with co-founder Nieves Barragán Mohacho winning Chef's Chef of the Year.

The unassuming entrance is marked by classic Spanish tiles — including a rather lovely 'Calle de Heddon' street sign — and the inevitable queue. Spanish food fans and tapas addicts, I'm happy to report that the hype is real.

To be fair, Sabor's founders know a thing or two about running a restaurant; Barragán Mohacho was Executive Chef at Barrafina for ten years, during which time she won them a Michelin star, with co-founder and customer experience king José Etura as Operations Director.

Sabor is divided into three separate and distinct sections: a classic, L-shaped tapas counter focusing on fresh fish and dishes from the Basque country and Catalonia, the Asador upstairs (which takes reservations and is wonderful for celebrations and group dining) showcasing specialities from the regions of Galicia and Castile and a small bar area downstairs with a selection of wines, spirits, beers and sherries from across Spain.

We started with Pan Tomate and Cecina, the vibrant freshness of tomatoes balancing delicate slices of intensely-flavoured, dry-cured smoked beef. This typifies Sabor's ethos, with high-quality traditional ingredients leading the way.

Some of you out there may well already know that I am quietly but incurably obsessed with certain foods, croquetas being in my top three.  Even given this, the Prawn Croquetas did not disappoint; they were perfect, with a deeply-flavoured, rich, comfortingly creamy centre and a crisp, golden shell.

(I don't really have a sweet tooth, so in times of heartbreak and despair I think I would head here for endless plates of these rather than finish off a tub of Ben & Jerry's on the sofa. Each to their own - and you have been warned.)

Next were the Piquillo Croquetas, which on my visit were topped with a snowfall of grated Zamorano cheese; I think on the updated menu it is now Manchego. Again, these were delicious, with a light but definite kick and perfectly cooked.

Frit Mariner was a sunshiny plate of tender squid and shelled prawns with aubergine and red pepper, drizzled in a herby olive oil dressing that made me long for a piece of bread to greedily wipe the plate clean.

The Beetroot, Blood Orange and Dill was simple and simply delicious, the earthiness of the beetroot balanced with the citrus and dressing, making for a pretty and refreshing dish.

The Chargrilled Baby Potatoes & Sobrasada was the only dish that I wouldn't rush to order again; the texture was quite uniform and I didn't get much of the promised chargrilled flavour, although to be fair by now the bar had been set pretty high.

Our Rhubarb and Mascarpone Tartaleta was delightful and an excellent end to our evening; delicately crisp pastry and with a filling that allowed the inherent sharpness of the rhubarb to come through, but softened by the mascarpone.

We went for a bottle of the Bhilar white Rioja 2016 on the advice of our charming server Pablo; it was a good match and I will be adding it to my wish list next time I am wine shopping.
I also couldn't resist the theatre of a glass of Txakoli, a young, citrussy, slightly effervescent wine best poured from height to maximise the flavour.

I'm already planning a trip back for the other two areas of the restaurant, the Asador and the bar; my wish list from the bar menu includes the Lardo, Anchovies & Picos, the Camarones Fritos & Fried Egg and the Queso Fresco & Black Truffle. (Actually I might just move in, I could happily eat that for breakfast.)

Yours, savouring the flavour,
London Girl About Town xx

Rachel Whiteread at Tate Britain

My first recollection of seeing Whiteread's work was Embankment 2005, a commission for the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern inspired by an old cardboard box found in her mother's basement when she was clearing the house after her death. The box was worn, sagging and faded, scarred with tape marks and well used over the years for children's toys, Christmas decorations and a range of ordinary but pivotal family possessions. Whiteread cast thousands of boxes in polyethylene and stacked them throughout the Turbine Hall, in columns and in irregular piles; seen from above it looked like a giant sugar bowl. The boxes seemed anonymously identical and yet, close up, the casting process had captured every tiny dent and crease from the original. I found it both visually impressive and unexpectedly poignant.



Tate Britain is currently hosting the largest exhibition of her work to date, including new work Chicken Shed 2017 on the lawn outside and Untitled (One Hundred Spaces) 1995 in the Duveen Galleries as you enter. The latter is a series of casts of the underneath of chairs — the most humble, anonymous and overlooked of spaces — in jewel-like coloured resin. This concept of unoccupied space, making it something rather than just an absence, is a thought-provoking one and is found in the work of another of my favourite artists, Antony Gormley.

Rachel Whiteread was the first woman to win the Turner Prize and is probably most widely known for House 1993. The artist took a condemned Victorian terraced house in the East End within sight of Canary Wharf, touchingly domestic and utterly ordinary - and cast the entire building in concrete. It drew admiring crowds and public criticism in equal measure before being controversially demolished after just 80 days. Whiteread was present at the demolition and subsequently fell ill for several months.

Familiar domestic architecture and artefacts figure largely in the exhibition. Untitled (Stairs) 2001 is a cast of the stairs from her home and studio, previously a synagogue and then a textile warehouse, capturing the signs of wear and tear from generations of daily use.



Found objects, often ugly and unwanted items, also take centre stage in her work alongside homely, intimate objects such as these hot water bottle sculptures, disconcertingly titled Torsos.

I really liked these library bookshelves which I found familiar and comforting (I love a library) but then chillingly reminiscent of Whiteread's Holocaust memorial in Vienna, which features regimented rows of books with their spines turned inwards - unwritten books by murdered would-be authors.

Whiteread has long been interested in dolls' houses, starting a collection after she left college that would eventually number around 150 and be used to create Place, now on permanent exhibition at the V&A Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green. This cast version is intriguing; its symmetry and emptiness give it grace and simplicity. People still peer in to view the interior but there is no furniture, no posed dolls, no tiny plated meals or pictures on the walls - just architecture and space.

I won't give any more of the exhibition away (as I strongly recommend you go for yourself) but I'm going to finish with my favourite piece, largely due to the story behind it. This is Untitled (Room 101) 2003, a plasticised plaster cast of the room in Broadcasting House where George Orwell worked during his time at the BBC and reputed to be the inspiration for Room 101 in his iconic novel Nineteen Eighty-Four. This inversion of empty space gives it a solidity and blankness that is utterly perfect, as well as revealing the tiny cracks and irregularities that are inevitable when people create, and live or work in, an environment. It couldn't be more fitting.

Yours, looking at the everyday in a whole new way,
London Girl About Town xx