Tropea doesn’t need this. Right now, as it stands, it’s the busiest restaurant in Birmingham. I know this because I have friends and family sitting on the waiting list, whilst my visits – best described as semi-frequent – are scrambled last minute negotiations at times when nobody else wants to eat. This blog isn’t going to change that, nor will PR, or even the bloody Michelin guide calling it one of their favourite local restaurants. It’s always going to be a nightmare getting a table.
There’s four of us at lunch; me, my girlfriend (who has quickly decided it is one of her favourites), the easy-to-please Nathan from Bath, and his harder to please brother Ben who bailed from Birmingham twenty-years back and now dodges tax in Jersey. There is a hundred quid bottle of Amarone on order, though before that we dive into the aperitif including Nathan’s first martini that quickly becomes my second martini of the morning.
The reason Tropea does so well, at least in my mind, is the lack of posturing. This is old school hospitality; no back story on produce, no lecturing on who or what inspired it. They cook great food, put it on your table and keep the drinks topped-up whilst you eat it. How greedy you want to be is down to you, though I’d suggest those looking to do it light take the nigh-on perfect focaccia, the pickles, the burrata with candied nuts, blood orange, and rocket. Finish it off with a pasta of your choice. They are all excellent.
Or make a real meal of it like I do every time I’m there. The courgette flowers filled with goats cheese, or the deep fried artichokes in bloom, to be worked into a lemony mayo. Get the vitello tonnato, the cold slices of veal dressed in the only ever acceptable mixing of tuna and mayo. Don’t miss the puffed bits of dough that come to life with cured meats streaked with aged balsamic.
We take the tagliatelle with lamb ragu today, as good a pasta as you’ll find anywhere, and a vegetable rissoto, perhaps a minute too toothsome, though I understand that arguing the cooking point of a rissoto could get me into as much trouble as pointing out kebab shops not having Michelin stars. Nobody needs the asparagus or the aubergine parmigiana, but we order them and we finish them. I think more wine is ordered before we leave with the intention of going out but actually getting pissed around my dining table.
I first went to Tropea for the sole purpose of giving the correct opinion to the people who pretend to have opinions; the second time because I really enjoyed it. I’ve been four times in the last two months. It is, to me, the best of its kind in the modern Italian style of restaurant. Better than Padella, Trullo, Lina, and Bancone in London. Better than Sugo or Zucchini. It’s time to stop comparing Tropea to its like within Birmingham and start celebrating it for it is. I suggest you join that waiting list for a table now.
10/10
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