
The day’s chalked-up starter was a simple carrot soup, but this was the start of an unexpected culinary adventure: here the vegetable appeared in no less than three guises, the broth studded with carrot gnocchi and topped with crispy carrot strips.
A rosemary baba – a muffin-like bread which takes 48-hours to prove, rise and infuse (see main pic, above) – exuded parmesan richness, enhanced by a mousse of taleggio with walnuts upon which it came so daintily perched.

A nice idea, indeed; and each time we visited, the food improved. Many other publications, including Time Out, followed with gushing reviews. The result? Anima e Cuore became pretty booked up.

The upshot? With a shrug, I consigned it to the shelf of great places I wanted to eat at, but wasn’t organised enough to book. Heck, I’m rubbish at diarying anything three months ahead, let alone a local meal out.
So it was about fifteen months after our last visit that we finally decided, on the spur of the moment, to drop by one cold Thursday night in March. It was just before 7pm, and serendipitously we snared the last free table in the back room which, we noticed, has had a slight makeover since the place first rocketed in popularity. Now there are sturdier wood, rather than laminate, floors, more atmospheric lights, and a stylish lick of paint on the walls.
Thankfully it’s still BYO – and there’s no corkage (unlike some cafes we know, which charge up to £8 a bottle). And as well as chef-patron Mustapha circling the small room explaining what he has on the menu, a waitress now passes round a blackboard, with one side of starters and another dozen or so mains scrawled up daily.

Caramelised scallops are paired with smoked mackerel and mullet – something I haven’t seen before – to give a gratin that’s creamy yet light, its earthiness underlined by nutty borlotti beans. Gnocchi with salt cod and anchovy is all umami flavours, with the al dente bite of asparagus.
A highlight? Strangolapreti (or priest stranglers), a gnocchi made from stale bread rather than potatoes, which are bright green with a herb sauce that melt in the mouth. The dish is traditionally served on Fridays, when religious restrictions forbade the consumption of meat. (As the legend goes, priests and other clergy members would eat it until they, er, choked).
What else? Carnivores should order the fillet, served rare over on-trend bone marrow mash, with roasted red onions and spinach; meanwhile sticky chargrilled lamb chops, pillowy-pink in the middle and seasoned with salty caponata and artichoke, come a close second. Tender octopus in a tomato and herb sauce with dark black polenta may prove an acquired taste for some, but it’s thrilling with an Italian red (perhaps an Etna Rosso – it’s BYO, after all, so you can splash out a bit).So, after all that, our one absolute must-try dish? A meaty beef tartare served with soft quail’s egg and mustard ice cream in a dinky cornet (above), a rollercoaster of textures and tastes: by turns fiery, cold, crunchy, chunky and velvety. (Incidentally, for the sweet-toothed there are some very decent dessert ice creams, not to mention superior chocolate fondant cake, too.)

And it’s a tad too light on the central tables for some: we watched an entertainingly tipsy trio of women try to flick the light switch off next to us – only for it to be turned back on time and again by the waitress (who didn’t find it particularly amusing).
Food aside, what’s most thrilling is the real sense of expectation. Most tables booked weeks, sometimes months in advance – and diners are genuinely excited to be eating here: one couple arrived joyously with three bottles of wine clinking in a carrier bag. You can’t say that about most neighbourhood cafes.
So the old chestnut of being loathe to write about something stands firmly here: Anima e Cuore is really, really good, and one of the capital’s most interesting dining options – which is why, said Mustapha on our last visit, it’s booked at weekends till July.
But the good news is that, with the new hours, now we all have a better chance of making it through the door, as it’s open for both lunch and dinner in that earlier, quieter part of the week.
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