AA Gill reviews Aqua Nueva
The menu is a promise of fiddliness and front-teeth chewing. I started with an egg yolk in jelly; it was like a big wine gum of pus, only not that nice. It was cheek-puffingly foul. Roast foie gras with a mango confit, herb salad, melon and black-tea sauce was edible, but not pleasurable. The Iberico ham was good — it’s always good. It’s not always £18 a plate. Spanish ham sets a palatine bar that exposes the flat-footed pygmy grub of Iberia. These combined dishes had a weird taste of torture and fashion diets. It’s a style of rigidly unrelaxed, thoughtless modernism that has grabbed Spanish food by the cojones. The best thing we could do is not eat any of it for a couple of years, until they get over themselves. And it’s expensive, very expensive. You don’t need to know exactly how expensive, ’cos you’re not going. You can’t park. And the lavatories are gender-confusing.