Moro made me feel young. It’s a classy place, with a mature menu and adult prices, and while the atmosphere was laid-back to the extent of dad-in-shorts-on-family-holiday, and the service so charming we’d have been pleased to see her in the pub afterwards, I still felt like a teenager splashing some pocket money on a fancy restaurant. I quite liked it.
The quality of everything we were served at Moro was exceptional. I know this because my long suffering boyfriend – who gets a mention for once only because it was his birthday – kindly let me try his. We asked what most of the accompaniments were before we ordered them, but we needn’t have; this is the sort of kitchen who wouldn’t serve you a duff ingredient. Fattoush salad turned out to be cucumber, radish, tomato, spring onion and crisp pitta in some sort of dressing that made it more delicious than most potato dishes could be. Even the ones with loads of butter. The lamb and bream were both perfectly cooked and rich with flavour.
At prices like these, though (mains are basically £20 a go), it would be little short of cruel to serve mediocre food, which perhaps is why I haven’t been singing Moro’s praises from the top of Parliament Hill. This is a truly fine example of a restaurant, and I can’t fault anything in particular, but something about the food didn’t quite blow me away. It might just be the Ottolenghi factor; the moment you realise that if you too had a cupboard full of sumac and pomegranate molasses you could (with the addition of an expensive trip to the butcher and several hours in the kitchen) make food that tastes this good. While we all grow up enough to get there, though, I recommend you eat at Moro.
34-36 Exmouth Market, EC1R 4QE, 020 7833 8336