Food Sleuth: Gusto, Sneinton Market

Gusto

Sneinton Market

SORTING out Savai's lasagne the other day reminded me of Gusto's splendid stab at the dish – the "al forno" that a few years back had me praising the deli-restaurant in Sneinton Market.

Things are slowly moving in that neighbourhood, where most of the recent headlines have concerned the future of Victoria Baths and leisure centre. I'm not sure of the score on the sport front, but the place put on an acceptable beer festival.

I notice, for instance, that we now have a swanky gym at the foot of the old Fyffe's building, so a chap can start his morning by working up a sweat, drinking a ton of bodybuilders' whey, crossing the road for a haircut (in one of the old wholesale market buildings) and then re-crossing it for a shop at Gusto Food Hall and finally luncheon in the adjoining dining room.

Just mark me down for the luncheon.

I took my place at a wobbly table overlooking the Dutch-style gables of the market complex. We still have the smart tiled floor, the ubiquitous chocolate leather-upholstered seats and, above the bar, the usual suspects from the popular culture gallery: portraits of the Beatles, Marilyn Monroe, Frank Sinatra and little Kylie, bless her.

Under the Beatles you place your luncheon order and adjust to the Gusto style.

The first surprise comes when you are asked to pay for your food before you eat it. Not even Little Chef does that.

The second surprise comes when you are asked if you want your first and main courses to arrive one after the other or both together. But why would I have wanted my hot pasta main course to cool down while I picked my way through a cold starter?

Call me controversial, but I think multiple courses are like multiple jail sentences. Consecutive is invariably more satisfactory than concurrent.

First up was some delightful antipasti, a little platter whose star turns were a soft, succulent portion of prosciutto and a few slices of pepper-studded salami. With it came mixed olives, sun-dried tomatoes, pickled artichokes and a few inconsequential decorative leaves.

Like Savai's mozzarella and tomato salad the other day, it worked beautifully. Just a few classy ingredients thrown together with no nonsense. It was light, refreshing and satisfying.

With Gusto's majestic lasagne still fresh in the memory I could hardly wait for my linguine al salmone. I was to be disappointed.

I put aside my personal preference for a narrower grade of linguine, which is much easier to turn on a fork than the slippery heavy grade used at Gusto, and I blame nobody but myself for the creamy pink spatters that kept appearing on the Doncaster form pages of my racing print.

Even so, I felt let down by the pieces of salmon. Nothing wrong with the quantity, but the texture was slightly hard, as if the fish had been overcooked or re-heated. There was nothing the thinly sliced mushrooms and cream sauce could do to compensate. It was pretty ordinary stuff, and not a patch on the salmon pasta dished up at the very old-fashioned La Cappanna in Sherwood.

The bill for just short of £15 included a bottle of ... well, I couldn't resist it. I am of the generation for whom pop meant something more than brown American fizzy drinks. I was a Tizer boy myself, although I could tolerate cream soda and cherryade. But there, on the shelf, was a small bottle of dandelion and burdock ...

I'm not sure if they put the same amount of ginger in D&B back in the early 60s and I also thought the Fentimans product was slightly heavy on the aniseed.

Even so, a reminder of the days when Britain could do brown fizzy drinks.