Dining at City-on-Sea

Visiting a Spanish restaurant in London’s urban east when recently returned from a gastronomically-spectacular trip to Spain isn’t something I’d usually advise – Old St has a lot to recommend it, but it can’t offer a sun-baked Iberian backdrop. Instead, Leonard St – where you’ll find the rustic Spanish and Portuguse-styled cuisine of Eyre Brothers – is a sleepy urban road with buildings that can’t quite decide whether they’re achingly trendy or plain-Jane utilitarian; you couldn’t easily confuse it for the Iberian peninsular.

The food Eyre Brothers (David and Robert, in case you’re interested) serves is a different story – flavours are big and punchy, the seafood is so good you can practically feel a coastal breeze on your face as you tuck into it and the meat is its equal.

In October the restaurant celebrated its ten-year anniversary, and it’s clear Eyre Brothers has lost no momentum; even mid-week it buzzes with a varied cross-section of clientele that reflects its location on the blurred boundaries between the City and Shoreditch. There’s a promising whiff of charcoal as we walk into the room, through the centre of which runs a strip of dark-wood panelling on the floor, walls and ceilings, and on the far side, away from the big glass windows looking out onto the street, is a casual, kitchen-facing tapas bar with the customary scrawls on a blackboard.

The smoky aroma wafting from the kitchen positively begs me to order the grilled squid to start, and I’m glad I do because it’s stupendous – delicate squid with a perfectly-judged, simple marinade of garlic and chilli that went beautifully with a glass of Terras do Demo, a pale-pink Portuguese sparkler from Távora-Varosa.

To follow, I submit to the autumnal charms of venison casseroled with pancetta and red wine on a bed soft corn milhos. The venison is excellent – rich and intense, and expertly partnered with the equally intense, fruit-driven Marco de Pegoes Tinto 2006, also from Portugal – and the milhos is good, if slightly overpowered. Better than either, though, is my companion’s acorn-fed Iberian pork (I tried acorn myself as a child and it was terrible, so well done to the pigs for persevering) with patatas pobres. Eyre Brothers serve the wild pig chargrilled and pink in the middle, which is as it should be – I challenge you to find a more enjoyable piece of pork in London.

When we exit onto the chilly, grey streets it’s a shock not to see the sun beating down and the Med lapping at the curb, like leaving a cinema in the day only to discover it’s dark outside. Eyre Brothers is a small, brilliant slice of Iberia on the City’s urban fringes, and for that I almost love it even more than the genuine article.