Review & Testimonials
Venue Magazine - 27th April 2007 to 6th May 2007
Spaghetti used to be something we got out of tin and served on toast. Pizza was an exciting, exotic treat "grabbed" in slices by cops in American TV shows. Olive oil used to be sold in chemists, to soothe earache, but have we really come that far since the bad old days? The River Café may be flooded with celebs every night of the week, but away from upmarket restaurant world, we're not really living la Dolce Vita.
At one end of the market are the takeaway pizzas that are difficult to distinguish from the cardboard they're delivered in, at the other are the glamorous, Italian-themed contemporary trattorias, with the odd authentic, family-run bistro in the middle clinging on for dear life. But just when you think there are no more gaps left in the crowded "new kid on the block" market, along comes globetrotting South African foodie Carl Say with his unique take on the whole concept. His Say Cafe bistros (the Bath incarnation being the fifth in a chain that includes both Bristol and London branches) merrily flaunt the Italian USP of big flavours, small prices and fresh ingredients, making the whole experience as far removed from the High Street chains as the Four Tenors are from Il Divo. There's nothing flashy or ironic going on in either the kitchen or the cheerful, brightly lit, open-plan surroundings but somehow, it's all very brave new world (especially in Bath, where maximum fuss and maximum prices are pretty much commonplace).
Say Cafe doesn't do starters as such, but we kicked off with £3.50 bread selection anyway (which included homemade pumpernickel and focaccia and came with three kinds of dipping oil, breadsticks and really fat, marinated olives) because the big menu deserved proper consideration. There's a real sense of integrity behind the thoughtful salads, eclectic pizzas (including a chilli-driven Bolognese sauce version, a South African Fishoek and - wahey!- "Banana Boy", featuring bacon and banana) and abundant pastas on offer; it's the sort of thing you like to think you cook at home, but rarely do. Mon Amore's chicken risotto (£7.20) was an excellent example of this luxurious genre; generous chunks of chicken, bacon and stilton suspended in a perfectly creamy rice. As if it wasn't rich enough already, he insisted on garnishing it with shavings of fresh parmesan; for the gentlemen of a certain age and cholesterol count, this could be his last meal, but what a way to go.
My seafood linguie featured very fresh scallops, mussels and prawns in a light, caper-infused tomato sauce - sun and sea in a bowl. I've never been to the Amalfi coast, but at least I now feel I know what it tastes like. At £8.70, it's one of the most expensive dishes on the SP menu, but I swear I've paid twice the price for half the amount in restaurants not a quarter of a mile away from this one. After all this, I came over all Gina Lollobridga and had a classic lemon tart (£3.95) which, light and fresh as it was, defeated me, but seeing as Marcello Mastroianni had already snaffled his undulating vanilla pannacotta £3.50), he was more than happy to take liberties with the classic Mediterranean diet.
Say Cafe will get people talking.
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