Fino

Still jet-lagged, she had eaten a very late breakfast and just wanted to 'pick at something', so I decided to take her for tapas at Fino, which I have been meaning to try for ages. I've eaten at its younger sister restaurant (Barrafina on Frith Street) and found it fun, but heard that Fino was quite grown-up and took itself a little more seriously.

Finding Fino isn't easy - it's tucked away down a little side street - and the first thing that surprised me was its subterranean setting. The second was how smart it is, but in a comfortable rather than a stuffy way. Blood-red leather banquettes and engaging abstract art on the walls. The ceiling is low, but with the use of lights and mirrors, the effect is womblike rather than claustrophobic. Waiters and waitresses clad in severe grey Mao jackets efficiently work the room.

Tapas is made-to-measure food. It can be a running banquet or a quick snack, depending on your mood, your appetite, or your greed. We started with bread and olive oil. The oil was fruity and intense and the bread tasted as if it had been warmed by the sun.

Next came crab croquetas. Featherlight and fishy, they were just the kind of dish I'm happy to shell out on. These were swiftly followed by chipirones, tiny baby squid deep-fried in a light, peppery batter. Crunchy and piquant, they defined the word moreish.

Our waiter recommended the tuna tartare with guacamole, although my friend was wary of eating raw fish. I told her that life was too short not to try new experiences, and in the event she loved it. The tuna had been marinated in very good oil and was sprinkled with sesame seeds and the guacamole was creamily green and delicately flavoured.

Then on came - for me - the absolute star of the show and a stalwart of the Spanish kitchen. A chorizo and aïoli tortilla. Golden-brown and plump, it arrived looking like an old-fashioned rum baba, topped with a mayonnaise pungent with garlic and laced with wafer-thin pieces of chorizo. The egg was properly gooey and sighed as we sliced into it. So did we. My friend said she wished she had foregone her hotel breakfast so we could have continued with our Spanish feast, but I intend to return on an occasion when I can eat my way through the entire menu (which changes daily).

Both Fino and Barrafina are run by the humorous Hart brothers (check out their whacky photo gallery upstairs), whose passion for Spanish food is evident in every mouthful. Food is sourced and sent over from Spain - and it shows. Barrafina is a brash upstart while Fino is more grown-up and considered, but both offer a deliciously different eating experience. Vive la différence as they say, although probably not in Spain.