If you like Gino D’Acampo’s face as much as Gino D’Acampo likes his face then you’ll really like Gino D’Acampo’s restaurant. If you like Gino D’Acampo’s face and crap Italian food you’ll fucking love it.
His face is everywhere, it’ll haunt your dreams after visiting – especially bad for those of you who worry about being burgled.
Gino’s could have been OK, they were crispy and the mozzarella in the middle had melted as you’d expect – the problem was that whoever made the risotto decided not to season it at all. Mozzarella doesn’t taste of much, rice doesn’t taste of much so it didn’t taste of much. There were four on the plate and after eating one and a half I gave up.
The best bit about the starters on offer was how the calamari was served. Someone had the genius idea of putting them on a piece of paper with an Italian newspaper printed on it – Gino is Italian you see.
Then, here it came – the fettuccine bolognese.
I was pretty certain this was going to be shit, but I was willing to be proved wrong – honest. And talking of honesty, I honestly have no idea how you can make a bolognese sauce with so little meat in it that tastes of nothing. Quite an achievement.
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