It's easy to order at Zucca as there aren't many menu options - perfect for the indecisive of us. We went all out with starters, pasta, mains and dessert. Flagging a waiter down, he apologetically told us we couldn't order for the moment as the kitchen was inundated. We got right stuck into a bottle of delicious Barolo, decanted into a huge vase-like contraption. Gorgeous salty foccacia kept the hunger pangs at bay. 20 minutes later, chilli-flecked, oil drizzled sea bass carpaccio arrived and it was was generous with thin slivers fanned over the plate.
I can never resist clams when they are on the menu, and these didn't disappoint. At around £4 for the dish, these were stupidly good value. We slurped up the buttery, winey sauce using empty shells.
There were only two pasta options; pappardelle with peas, lemon and Parmesan had rather too much pea and not enough pasta. What there was of the noodle was toothsome and well made.
Taglierini with courgettes and brown shrimp was subtly flavoured and utterly gorgeous. Again, I wished for more of the pasta which might be testament for how good what we had of it was. I'm an absolute pasta fiend though, and my companion thought it adequate.
I was disappointed to find that they had run out of the lamb main course, but as it was such a balmy night it was probably a good idea I had the grilled prawns with a rocket salad. It was messy business extracting the meat from the shells and I got good and properly in there with my hands. The veal chop, huge and with a strip of glistening fat, was tender and well cooked to pink.
Almond and cherry tart was moist and not overly sweet. Cannoli stuffed with cream and served with raspberries was crumbly and light, the tart fruit cutting through the richness of the cream. We finished late in the evening, by now a bit more than tipsy. We left with smiles on our faces, but not without illiciting some gasps of horror; we tried to open the front door which was a bit stuck and I bent over to see if there was a latch to turn just as my friend yanked it open smashing it into my head. Peals of laughter could be heard all the way down Bermondsey Street as we waddled off to the train station. I woke up the next day with both an internal and external headache.
184 Bermondsey Street,
London SE1 3TQ
Tel: 020 7378 6809
My photos are all really odd. It was dark, I was drunk. For some better ones, have a look here, here and here.