Piccolino, 9 Brindleyplace, Birmingham, B1 2HS. T: 0121 634 3055
4/10
On the face of it, spaghetti con polpettine sounds good.
Basically, it is spag and meatballs, slathered in a tomato sauce, which in my book rates as one of the great food pairings.
The constituent parts are relatively inexpensive, they don鈥檛 bully each other and the dish rates highly in the unofficial league of top comfort foods.
For me, it is pipped by a bacon and egg sarnie (drizzled with Dutch-made, Brummie-bastardised brown sauce) and a Viscount biscuit.
But spaghetti con polpettine nevertheless deserves a seat at the top table.
It will never let you down.
Correction: cooked properly, it will never let your down.
The version they knock out at Piccolino in Brindleyplace leaps off the industrially produced menu card.
It sounds pretty yum: 鈥淢eatballs made with Limousin beef & pork, slow braised in San Marzano tomato sauce.鈥
Yours for 拢9.95.
They鈥檒l deduct 5p if you know, or care, where San Marzano is.
I was accompanied by old school friend, Kaz, who wasn鈥檛 really a friend at school, I sought of knew her vaguely, we never got off with each other or anything, no baggage, but we met at one of those reunion parties and now she鈥檚 officially an old school friend, which is nice, albeit a bit strange.
It was during the big snow drop we had in January, when it was, for want of a better description, bloody freezing.
Kaz was staying at a hotel at the back of the Hyatt, in a building that I thought was a posh multi-storey car park.
(The fact she wasn鈥檛 staying at the Hyatt worried me because it meant her bosses were tight, her expenses would be rubbish and therefore I鈥檇 have to rein it in on the wine. This was tricky as I had never met Kaz sober, even when we didn鈥檛 know each other at school.)
Her hotel is located between the Mailbox and Brindleyplace. I told my friend there were two options for dining within walking distance: the 鈥橞ox or the 鈥橮lace.
鈥淲hat鈥檚 the difference?鈥 she asked.
鈥淭here isn鈥檛 any,鈥 I said. 鈥淏ut the Mailbox is newer and generally colder.鈥
鈥淏ut what about the food?鈥 (Don鈥檛 you hate it when people are persistent?)
鈥淪ame,鈥 I said.
鈥淚t鈥檚 the same food at both places? Why?鈥
鈥淏ecause this is Birmingham.鈥
Kaz said she fancied an Italian, by which I presumed she meant food, so I suggested Piccolino, because it was near.
The place was buzzing.
I felt quite proud of my city. Here was Birmingham on a Monday night and it wasn鈥檛 dead.
Piccolino occupies a big space, the site of the old, thankfully forgotten, hopeless Brasserie Blanc, and it was at least three-quarters full. We drank a bottle of sauvignon blanc, Mastri Vernacoli Trentino 2011 (拢22.95), at the bar.
We felt metropolitan, grown up.
At the table, we played that popular modern restaurant game: Chase the Balsamic Vinegar around the Oil Slick with some bread.
Kaz had the caprese to start, which made up in quantity what it lacked in presentational aplomb. She said the tomatoes were sweetish, the buffalo mozzarella tasted like buffalo mozzarella and the avocado tasted like avocado.
The old school king prawns in chilli and garlic were fine, with a squirt of lemon and a nice little sauce. If the mains followed suit, it would be a perfectly pleasant, if unremarkable dinner.
The mains didn鈥檛 follow suit.
The protein element of Kaz鈥檚 roast cod, with Calabrian spicy sausage and sprouting broccoli, was cooked well but the whole thing lacked a bit of love.
The dish needed a more enveloping, generous sauce than the chilli and garlic butter (which probably came from the same container as the king prawn accompaniment).
The spaghetti and meatballs was simply poor.
The waiter presented a matted mush of pasta and balls that looked like it had done several lunch services in the staff canteen at a Fiat factory.
A solitary basil leaf had been fingered into the top of the pile as a whimsical apology.
If those meatballs had been slow braised that day, I鈥檓 the next Pope. The dish actually looked bigger when I had finished than it did when I started.
It just kept spreading, like an uncontrollable virus in a Stephen King horror novel.
Forget international sanctions and veiled threats 鈥 they should drop this stuff on North Korea.
Kim Jong-un will soon rethink his policy of nuclear aggression.
Against spaghetti con polpettine, Pyongyang鈥檚 weapons are useless.
For dessert, Kaz had a Harry Potter with vanilla cream and red wine poached pear that bore the hallmarks of mass catering.
When I saw the already melted ice cap in my affogato I thought of global warming and let out a whimper for the polar bears.
I apologised to Kaz.
I don鈥檛 think she鈥檚 coming back to Birmingham in a hurry.
Total bill about 拢100.
Birmingham鈥檚 Piccolino is part of chain of 14, so you can try out the experience at lots of them. Or just not bother.
