After eating in Soho last, a couple of weeks ago, a few people have come to me and said “if you were on George’s St you should’ve gone to Havana,” while looking at me as though I’d never heard of Ellen Degeneres. So, in the interest of my belly, as well as culinary excellence, I dragged my ever-willing other half to the tapas place.
Havana is more of a chilled-out, hippy cafe in design than restaurant, with posters for up-coming concerts on the walls as well huge flags for every Spanish-speaking country that competed in the World Cup. The staff are friendly and all seem to be having a great time, chatting among themselves and the diners. It all adds to an excellent dining experience.
We went straight for the specials menu, choosing a mish-mash between us. For the next hour of so we chomped through a selection of dips with pesto, humus and olive dips with bread and nachos and Plato Mixto.
The Plato Mixto was a selection of Spanish meatballs, potato, chicken skewer and mushroom. The meatballs were beautiful, the chicken actually tasted of chicken rather than generic white meat and the mushrooms were deliciously meaty and tasty. It was the potatoes that were the star though, as my partner is slightly obsessed with the tuber. Whenever potatoes are ordered I can hear a drum-roll in my head as they travel from plate to mouth, all restaurants are judged by their spud and Havana came up trumps. They were cooked Dauphinoise-style but not as creamy and, so, were lighter and less dense.
All of this was washed down by my Corona and her glass of white wine. All for the paltry sum of €39.
Havana has been around for donkey’s, and I have no idea why it took me so long to get myself through their door. I will most definitely be back. Actually, I’m going there tonight
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