This was not a perfect meal: pig trotter arrived with a bloodless romesco; orzo with sweetbreads offered nothing but garlic; a jamón dashi with mackerel meatballs felt like it belonged to another dish. That quarter of a suckling pig is £85: with no sides at all, it feels parsimonious when a restaurant like this should seem generous. But, mad as it may be, the menu has so much to return for — quail, rabbit shoulder, squid stuffed with prawn and girolle mushrooms. The Legado sandwich, where the bread is substituted for panko-covered, deep-fried cheese, is on my mind so much a lawyer could fairly name it a co-respondent. Barragán, then, has a triumph waiting in the wings; a little tuning and it’ll be there. Would be better in another building, mind. Bloody estate agents.
