I had often breezed past, the Coca Cola red paintwork, the tricolour flags outside, floral displays.
I love how it brings colour and vibrancy to an old building in Margates crucible of culture, the old town.
The website is a landing page at best, the menu is available but it is not easy to navigate as they use photos of the menu, and there's blank pages which have no purpose. Social media reveals they drop the L' from L'Olivo for some reason. I chuckle at the idea that at some point they found the English had a problem with the L' pronunciation or spelling and so they made it easier for the English to find them online as "Olivo". Stupida English.
Their social media is updated occasionally, no real structure or purpose but something catches my eye. I see something on there which, if it's on the menu, I'm definitely having.
Looking at TripAdvisor, the reviews are full of high praise, pizza is reported to be a next level experience, the dough and generousity of quality ingredients cited as the reasons why.
Apparently the tiramisu a thing of beauty and legend. The wife will be happy.
I can't wait to get in.
It is a dark evening with moisture in the air, old town Margate has a Dickensian undertone tonight, the silence of the streets broken only by the sound of footsteps and rustling leaves in the dark shadows of shop entrances.
But hold, before us, lit up like a beacon is L'Olivo.
The windows are heavily condensated, you can make out silhouettes and hear the murmur of conversation and laughter.
The double door is a beautiful relic of Victorian craftsmanship, it pushes inwards revealing the magic within.
It is 7pm, the tables are full spare the one set for our booking.
A surprisingly small restaurant with about 6 tables, every opportunity to fill space taken. Walls are adorned with pictures of Italy and characters of, You feel instantly relaxed. Table settings are pleasingly authentic with red and white checked table cloths, a single lit candle in the top of a bottle with melted wax layered over and over. A simple beaker hosts the cutlery with bargain basement tissue napkins.
A menu is placed at each sitting, a tattered leatherette binder with plastic sleeves, the paper inside is water stained (I know it is supposed to look like that, but this really was water stained, it looked like it had been put through the wash!), the text ink has bled. A mildly disappointing detail, but it can't be excused as rustic charm in my book.
The menu seemed to match that which was posted online. There is nothing more infuriating than getting to somewhere and finding you can't get what was advertised.
I'm open to temptation, the specials board offers a few curiousities, nothing screams at me there so back to the menu. My group had already decided against starters, but mains and puds. Booo!
This somewhat scuppered my plan, a dish had caught my eye on social media , a simple dish of anchovies, olive oil and bread.
I assumed this to be a starter, as the portion size is clearly that, but I wanted to enjoy something authentic and for me a simple plate of salted fish oil and bread would be a delightful introduction to this Italian gastronomic journey. There was an anchovy option in the starters, I wonder if this is what it was? Well I'm not going to find out today!
All was not lost, the words Angry Anchovy pizza was in my tractor beam, even the Fruiti de Mer pizza couldn't sway me. I'm having anchovies tonight and no one's going to stop me!
All the pizzas sounded fantastic (there are more than shown above). Boys went for pizza, The girls went for the ravioli with beef filling in a tomato sauce, they were asked if they would want a large portion, of course they said yes, enthusiastically.
Clearly, we are not straying into the unknown, or throwing caution into the wind. I was both excited and optimistic to see how these familiar dishes are elevated to incomparable excuisitness.
First up, my anchovy pizza.
The pizza was delivered piping hot, the aroma filling my nostrils, rolling on my taste buds. I want it now. I am however disappointed, maybe not for anything they did wrong, but I was expecting something else.
I was expecting the anchovies to be the star, not the raw tomato and basil. However, what I got in taste was the saltiness and attitude of anchovy, sweetness of the tomato base with an incredible warmth of the chilli. It was delicious. The tomato and basil provided a punch of fresh fragrance to temper the salty richness. The dough was thin and pleasingly crispy, the edge which was thicker than I would normally like, but had a pleasing crack on the bite and proved to be a satisfyingly puffy light crust.
The proof was in the eating, and I was happy. I can't help feeling a little underwhelmed though, and maybe this is my fault for wanting or expecting too much. Whilst I am completely satisfied that what I had was an authentic anchovy pizza, I kind still expected the anchovies to look like the star of the show, something like this and not the tomato and basil.
I will recognise though that the price I paid was excellent at about £11. Incredible price for the flavour and quality really. But would pay more for what I had imagined it promised? Absolutely.
There was a slightly annoying wait for the rest of the food to come out.
Two of those crisp white plates with deep rim and centre bowl filled with Ravioli are placed down. The rich sauce clinging to the ravioli, which themselves looking like a bomb of flavour in every bite. However, it also disappointed. Once you realise the plate was just that, only with a shallow bowl, you could separate them to count. If this was a large portion, what was the small? That said, the pasta had the requisite bite and slipperiness of all good homemade pasta, but there was more to be disappointed with. The filling was underwhelming. Again this is classic case of expectation verses reality. But while one was pulling their plate apart to show me the lack of filling, the other was heartily scoffing theirs making sounds of carnal pleasure.
The table is of mixed contentment.
The wife additionally disgruntled by the Soave wine being presented as an alternative to her beloved Sauvignon blanc. She's not getting her head around the fact that an Italian restaurant sells Italian wine only and her Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc is from the other side of the world. She sips it making the face of someone having to drink lemon juice.
We turn our attention to the puds.
I started this review by revealing some of the highlights previous reviews had said, the tiramisu being legendary. The table however are not having any of my suggestion and are drawn without sway to a different pud (I can't recall the name, and it doesn't feature on a menu online) which our 2 friends were practically gushing for, my wife buckled under peer pressure and said she would have the same, I however was intrigued by the specials board. My theory was that I already knew the tiramisu was great, so take a chance on something they call special. There is only one choice of a pud on the specials board, the chestnut with whipped cream... I'm feeling inspired and that sounds like a great thing to try.
We ordered and our friends continued to sing the praises of the pud to come, how it came to being, the fact that it just works. It is this passion, understanding of provenance which creates excitement, a sense of being part of something which is unique, a treat beyond all measure.
This is no greater an indulgence than a pudding after all.
I fear I am painting a picture and you already know how it's going to look.You are already getting the feeling I am not going to like it. You would be right, but there is an expectation isn't there? An expectation that thought love and passion has gone into your plate of food, if not then what is the point of being here?
My pud came in a Knickerbocker glory glass. My chestnut with whipped cream was a tan colour set cream, I close my eyes and taste, it's got Angel Delight written all over it, (I'm not suggesting it was Angel Delight, its texture was akin to)
It had a beige hue and mildly woody taste, slightly sweet but an overall savory finish (Sounds more like a wine now, good job I didn't let the Mrs taste it, she might have drunk it). The whipped cream was however had the vacancy of flavour and vagueness of substance akin to squirty cream.
The other 3 had certainly dodged a bullet. But then I felt a little better when I saw theirs. When I tasted theirs, I felt quite smug.
So what was theirs?
Basically a small glass bowl with a shot of espresso and a scoop of ice cream. The ice cream was nice, the coffee was strong, bitter and cold. Together it combined to create absolutely nothing but a watery black liquid with cream running through it which had the look of curdled milk. I watched with great amusement as my wife's face pursed at every spoon.
Once again, our friends continued to tell us how this just works. They must have sensed they had to justify their recommendation given the flat unimpressed reaction to it. I just nodded quietly savoring my Angel Delight.
My reason for describing this the way I have could put me at risk of appearing ungrateful, unrealistic or a downright over opinionated cretin.
However, the benefit of highlighting opposing opinions is also to highlight that a personal experience is indeed personal.
I would also argue though that any dish that could potentially make anyone wince in disgust should not be on your menu.
I still ate it all of mine though, I hate waste, and at £7 for a bit of Angel Delight and squirty cream, every scrape up the glass is money I want back.
There's plenty to appreciate here.
I like the vibe here. I really do. I like the authenticity. I like the Italian music which seemed to skip from edgy Italian hip hop to classical, but never being over bearing but a toe tapping accompaniment to the hum of conversation.
I like that I can see the activity of the kitchen which is across the back of the room, the interaction of the chef owner and his customers, it adds to the feeling of receiving a personal experience.
The service compliments that by being nimble, personal but without the faff.
It is a lovely place to come for a warming meal, either as a couple or a small group. The prices are not going to have you flying for the cash point, ah that reminds me, they only take cash.
They have paper clippings and posters of how cash is the only way to be free. I would normally expect such opinions to be kept well away from the diners, but I guess that if you want to make things awkward by not taking the easiest mode of payment, you may as well attempt to justify why!
This is a solid restaurant. I like it's honesty, there is nothing worse than spending your money somewhere that makes you feel like you've been taken for a fool. There are places within walking distance that would be adding a fiver to each plate and not give a flying.
HOW DOES IT SCORE
1) Is it to the expected standard?
This is a brilliantly authentic little restaurant that makes the food as it should be, But if you fancy a pud, it's up to you, but maybe play safe with the famed tiramisu. ONE STAR
2) Does it do something that you have always wanted to try?
Based solely on my visit, I can't give it the highest mark, but it is still gets a star for having a varied menu of quality authentic food. I would like to have seen a couple of dishes apart from the tiramisu that really get the conversation going in Margate. ONE STAR
3) Is it fairly priced?
A resounding yes, main courses are priced vastly cheaper than comparable restaurants. However the puds on my visit seemed extremely expensive for what they were which brings the score back down to ONE STAR
4) Cleanliness, including customer toilets
I didn't see the toilets, the table was perfectly clean and presentable, I think they should replace their menus though. ONE STAR
5) Service
As it should be ONE STAR
CONTRIBUTING EVIDENCE
A) Does it have a clear and relevant identity?
It couldn't be more obvious if it tried, but in addition it's staunchly authentic food is clear in its presentation.
B) Does it stand out for quality and standards?
For reasons above yes, but the puds showed how it cuts corners though.
C) Is there areas of the business that someone else does better?
Like for like, no. It isn't trying to wow with anything other than it's own deliciously simple food. Is it fair to compare to places like The Little Sicilian, not unless they intended to go toe to toe , and they don't.
D) Does it diversify?
I saw online that it was on JustEat, but I didn't see one collection on a Saturday night. I would hope and expect there to be a plan to tap into the seafront customers to be able to order and collect a pizza to be enjoyed on the steps.
E) Will customers return without hesitation?
For price and quality authentic food it is pretty much unbeatable, but once you have had a couple of meals there I wonder if there is enough to keep people coming back without being tempted elsewhere.
20 Market Pl, Margate CT9 1ES
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"I Expect Just What I've Always Expected - For You To Make Up Your Own Damn Mind. Believe Me, Or Don't."