Jose Pizarro will not stop until every single shop front on the delightfully quaint Bermondsey Street is serving up unparalleled pan con tomate and endless boquerones, the cobbles awash with streams of sherry. Lolo is the street’s third (third!) joint from the convivial Spanish chef, joining the pokey but perfect tapas bar Jose and more formal (but just as fun,) Pizarro. SE1 domination? Done it, mate.
Lolo literally and figuratively sits somewhere in the middle of Jose and Pizarro, named as it is in honour of the Spanish nickname for Jose’s middle name, Manuel. Neither super-fancy Michelin star Madrid grill house nor a bare-bones Cadiz cava bar, Lolo is casual but content with its easy-breezy lot. Unlike his other two nearby spots, this one is open all day, starting with sassy little breakfasts of baked eggs with pisto and thyme croutons or bacon sarnies with pineapple ketchup.
Does it resemble something I would make if hungover and un-arsed to go to the shops? Yes. Is it also delicious? Definitely
I arrive in the evening, and the dusty pink room easily transitions from a relaxed cafe into a romantic resto, with demure salmon-shaded tiles and lovely, low lights. The menu is short and divvied up into a series of enticingly snackable Spanish dishes with coyly British bent. Take a starter of devilled eggs, graced with a single smoked anchovy, bringing together both 1970s suburbia with a breezy Barcelona evening, the saltiness of the fish slicing through any potential yolky cloy.
Next, chicken liver parfait laced with punchy Pedro Ximénez vinegar and served on the side of some cute, impressively tight buns of sweet potato before a tortilla vaga aka a ‘lazy omelette’. Here, a muddle of fast-fried eggs come topped with crisps, caramelised onion Ibérica jamon. Does it resemble something I would make if hungover and un-arsed to go to the shops? Yes. Is it also delicious? Definitely.
There are also bigger small plates; Flintstones-worthy pork ribs which glisten with fat and hum with the celestial twang of melted meat; creamy red prawn carpaccio with flecks and flicks of orange and chilli; a very salty, very goth pot of cuttlefish in black ink sauce which looks like was lifted from the props department of the new Beetlejuice movie. Alas, a courgette carpaccio is perfectly pretty, splayed out like a gorgeous green fractal, but lacks the full-throttle flavour punch of the other dishes.
Turns out that three restaurants from the same chef within staggering distance isn’t as mad as it sounds. Frankly, we can’t wait for the fourth.
The vibe All-day dining (doors open at 8am!) from the UK’s godfather of Spanish cuisine.
The food Spanish small plates infused with wry British touches.
The drink Brunch cocktails through to sparkling wine, sherries, chilled reds and Spanish beer.
Time Out tip There’s a supremely cosy corner where you can gaze on both the kitchen and the rest of the restaurant and your fellow diners. Nab this table by any means necessary.