More than 2000 years ago, the inhabitants of Sybaris, an ancient, southern Italian city, became famed for their hedonism, feasts and excesses. Two millennia later and I’m doing my absolute best to uphold their sybarite ways and I’m not alone. Sibarita is Spanish chef Victor Garvey’s baby number two, opened moments away from the renowned Encant, on Maiden Lane in Covent Garden.
Venue and Atmosphere
Much like first venue Encant, Sibarita isn’t much bigger than a postage stamp. But where the first venue was all gilded surfaces and rich brass tones, Sibarita is a down to earth tribute to sunny Barcelona. Wooden planks hang vertically from the ceiling, and in between slats, upside-down flower pots and Edison light bulbs are suspended. Juxtaposed with this done-up garden shed vibe, walls are decorated with antique-style tiles and a long, vibrant chartreuse sofa lines an entire wall, creating a splash of colour in the tiny space. More overt throwbacks to Spanish tapas bars are scattered in the single room too; hams, bottles of wine and strings of garlic are suspended in the windows, and shelves are topped with tins of olive oil, found more commonly on the Continent.
For Sibarita, Victor Garvey joined forces with his dad; a white-haired, bespeckled man, who stands watch in the restaurant, cheerfully suggesting plates and pointing people in the right direction. With only room for 26 covers, the place was completely full when we arrived, with couples and groups perched around barrels and on the small tables that ran alongside the sofa. Despite being slap bang in tourist town, the restaurant feels like one of those family-run, mind-blowing spots you stumble upon on holiday and continue to refer to in 'did I tell you about this one time' fashion. It's jam-packed, noisy and vibrant, but never once feels crowded.
Based on the brightness of Barcelona, Sibarita is a teenie tiny Covent Garden restaurant.
Food and Drink
I make questionable noises when around food, less ‘ooh’ and ‘ahhs’ and more ‘oh yes'es and ‘oh my god's. In fewer than five minutes, I had already groaned audibly at the next table’s cheese dish and started salivating at the boards of charcuterie being manoeuvred round the tiny space. If I only eat one thing for the rest of my life, let it be Baked Torta Del Casar Cheese (£11), a dish of melted ewe’s cheese, baked sourdough bread and Sylvanian Family sized carrots and radishes stuck on spikes. A civilised dinner turned into me wrestling the pot away from my companion, as the sharp ewe’s cheese was given a richer, earthier taste with the garlic drenched sourdough or left to stand alone with the clean taste of the vegetables.
It seems unfair for any dish to follow a pot of melted cheese that I had been spooning into my mouth (JUDGE ME, I DARE YOU), but the rest of the tapas were worthy competitors. Grilled Octopus (£7), which is usually a meaty, chewy dish, was transformed into a buttery-soft plate of hot paprika and roasted garlic flavours. The Chicken ‘Chilindron’ was amazing value at £6.50 with three chunks of succulent breast coated in breadcrumbs, fried and served with juicy peppers and crispy Serrano Ham Salpicon. Unfortunately due to the rush, our pork belly never arrived, but any sadness was quickly allayed with croquetas of creamy spinach and potato (£4) and plates of sharp cheese, best eaten with the quince jelly and huge bread chunks.
Served in bulbous, short glasses, the wine list is just as unfussy as the food menu, and equally as knock-back-able. El Quintanal Blanco (£5.50 glass) was sharp and refreshing with an acidity that cut through the rich food. The glass of Raventos I Blanc (£7.80 a glass), was similarly as light but with a little softer, for a fruity and complex drink. As well as sangria, which stood in jugs on the spit and sawdust corner bar, there was also a few cocktails and light G&Ts on offer.
It's the simple things in life - like spooning melted cheese into your mouth.
Summary
Sibarita proves it really is the simple things in life, albeit in gluttonous, wonderful glory, that make us most happy. Food and wine are kept easy, the venue is knee-bashingly intimate and staff are like old friends, which they will be once I've turned this place into my local. I’ve got the badges, started a furious Twitter campaign and am planning on printing the placards this weekend; I am a fully fledged fan girl of Victor Garvey’s work.
