Finding a decent Italian joint in London is as rare and exhausting as finding a decent partner. It’ll take countless dinners of eggless, cream-based carbonaras – tasteless like your date’s pick-up lines – and boring Nutella slabs, smeared on pizza dough that’s as stale as the night’s conversation. And when you think you’ve finally had enough, you stumble upon love – or should I say, Lume.
Lume is a brilliant little Italian restaurant just a block north of Primrose Hill, on the corner of King Henry’s and Primrose Hill Road. It can be the starting point for your afternoon, filling up on carbs before burning calories at the park, or the idyllic gastronomic reward for the trek uphill.
The restaurant, run by Giussepe Gullo, is named after the Italian word for “light,” but the true meaning gets lost in translation. “My grandad used to say, ‘Bring the ‘lume’ to the table’”, Gullo writes on the restaurant’s official website. “The light he was referring to was a bottle of wine. Wine. Light. Lume”.
Lume is bright, open and modern, with greenery hung around the exterior, and fairy lights twinkling within, warming the dining room in gold after sundown. Tall shelves of wine take up half of the wall space, leading to a contemporary black, white and grey mural and finally, to the wall-to-floor windows of the small, shaded outdoor patio – a delight on sunny days. But was this date just a pretty face?
First to taste, an Aperol Spritz and a burrata with puntarelle (chicory from South Italy), blood oranges, anchovies and pine nuts (£13). It was creamy and divine, with a hint of acidity from the blood orange, and mixed textures that made this classic starter a joy to eat.
Next, a plate of linguine landed at my table, topped with white crab meat and bottarga, a cured, salted fish roe sac that paints the pasta in a bold, red-orange hue (£21). It was packed with flavour, not overly fishy, and I scraped the plate empty.
Negroni sbagliato
Linguine with white crab and bottarga
Pistachio ice cream (pre-olive oil)
I wasn’t sure if I’d make it to dessert. Don’t get me wrong, it had been a wonderful evening. Each dish enticed me and Lume clearly has potential, but you can’t just fall for potential, right? You need gustatory evidence of worthiness. Do I go all the way on the first date or should I leave a little mystery? To hell with it. I ordered the salted pistachio ice cream with olive oil (£7).
A tall metal cup – like a martini glass with a longer stem – was placed at the table. Inside was a single, green-tinted ice cream scoop topped delicately with pistachio nuts. The server then swiped a bottle of olive oil from a nearby table and doused the scoop generously, leaving a shiny golden top layer.
Taking a scoop, I noticed all the extra bits of pistachio mixed within the ice cream, itself, teasing me just before getting a taste. And within seconds, I was… slightly… disappointed. Typical.
I’ve read that ice cream and extra virgin olive oil are an unusual pairing that strangely works (and many do enjoy this extra layer of richness), but it just didn’t get me going. The olive oil was too much. It felt like a slippery forcefield that kept me from savouring what could have been an incredibly happy ending as the ice cream, alone, was divine.
But… there’s no such thing as perfection and nothing will change unless communication is involved. Next time (because there will definitely be a next time), I’ll ask for it without the olive oil.
Overall, I was elated. The plates were pricey, but the quality was high. Could this be it? Have I finally found a good thing? Could I commit to a place like Lume despite the oily flaw? Eh, we all have our quirks. My answer is yes. Yes, Lume, I can and I do.
38 Primrose Hill Road
London
NW3 3AD
September 2024
