TONCO
2 Dyson Place,
Sheffield;
0114 349 3996,
tonco.co.uk
I
t feels odd having to repeat
something that seems self-
evident to me: restaurants
have as many different
personalities as people do.
And each of us is drawn
to something that appeals
to us, specifically. I know!
Radical. A critic’s job is to
appraise with as clear-eyed
an outlook as possible
— and I do, I do, often being
delighted by somewhere I
absolutely wouldn’t have gone
to if not on the clock. (See
pubs, steakhouses and celebrity
chef outfits passim.)
But those who stick with any
pundit on any subject will build
up an idea of their idiosyncrasies.
There are critics who love big
chunks of flamed meat or whose
preference is for places where
they’re treated like gods or
goddesses; those who hate
musicals or were once snubbed
by Johnny Depp; those whose
books haven’t sold as well as the
ones they’re reviewing. It is, as
we say now, baked into who you
choose to heed. And mine aren’t
exactly hidden away at the back
of the oven. I love the indies,
the places run by those mad
men and women obsessed by
the industry, the ones for whom
buzzing dining rooms full of
happy people are more
important than spreadsheets.
(Though, obviously, one feeds
the other.) Bling and dazzle
don’t impress me much — I’d
rather eat in a seafood hut with
sensational dishes than the
most throbbing scene where
the cooking is an afterthought.
So when I was pointed in the
direction of Tonco by One Who
Knows, my antennae started
vibrating wildly. Everything
about it is designed to tick off my
personal checklist: all the above,plus an ex-Moro chef-owner
(Flo Russell, with partner Joe
Shrewsbury, a musician —
which possibly explains the
deliciously quirky soundtrack).
Its location in a cool university
town’s (Sheffield) coolest,
restaurant-lined neighbourhood
(Sharrow Vale). I make no
pretensions to cool, but I like
rubbing up against it.
And a menu that’s a box of
delights. It fairly jitters with
promise: grilled squid on
mizuna salad with kumquats
— the small room is deliciously
scented by the grill; whipped
cod’s roe with Jerusalem
artichoke panisse; monkfish,
carlin peas and white beans with
kale and almond pesto. Evidence
of that promise: we order noneof these, seduced instead into
aligot croquettes — I mean,
you would, wouldn’t you —
the stretchy, cheesy potato
packed into crisp carapaces and
plonked onto a pool of onion
molasses mayonnaise (sexy!).
I thought Heft a couple of weeks
ago had lifted cheese and onion
to another level, but these
oozing beauties are pugnacious
little contenders.
There’s that maverick touch:
pairing shelled mussels with
rhubarb and ajo blanco (Spanish-
style almond and garlic “soup”).
Sounds like madness, tastes
like genius. Or wedges of crown
prince and acorn squash,
blackened from a good blasting,
spiked with chilli and soothed
with labneh and inky beetrootTA B L E TA L K●Marina O'Loughlin
A gleaming example of local
hospitality in the city of steel
molasses. (They love a molasses
here — and so do I.) Everything
to be scooped up with Tonco’s
own sensational bread, the
handsomest loaf I’ve seen in
a while, dense crust thickly
studded with seeds, crumb
impossibly elastic, its olive oil
a glittery, peppery emerald.
There are clever cocktails,
avoiding the overly sweet
clichés. And the wine list defines
accessible, topping out at a
non-stratospheric £54; our
Portuguese albariño — frisky
little number — costs a gentle
19 quid. Vegetarians aren’t
overlooked either, with some
irresistible creations: anywhere
that serves a whole pie — leek,
potato and Devon Blue cheese,
pastry rich and short, filling aPairing shelled mussels with
rhubarb and ajo blanco — sounds
like madness, tastes like genius
70 • The Sunday Times Magazine