The problem with having a simplistic underground map of the metro system is that you feel all the London landmarks are as close together, or as far apart, as they are on that map. This is what I was cursing as I hunted OlivoCarne.

I had mistakenly caught the train to Sloane Square in London’s Belgravia district, figuring that a short walk would not be a problem. I had spent most of my holidays eating far more than was necessary (fish and chips anyone? Scones and clotted cream? Greene King IPA?), so some additional exercise was merited. The lazier side of me had not realised that London’s Victoria station was just round the corner from this restaurant.

Obviously, it was raining.

This did not matter much.

The rain was not a torrential downpour and the pleasant pitter-patter accompanied me and my thought bubbles as I strolled through deserted streets of a quieter, residential part of London that you don’t see if you stick to the sights and the main parts of the capital. I almost felt alone – a strange feeling in a city that is bursting with life and activity. It is this  sense of contrast with the bustling touristic and business centres within walking distance that I love about London.

I turned right on to Elizabeth Street, wider than the previous one; a few shops greeted me, their lit interiors displaying all their secrets. I could see a few smokers huddled under a shop canopy that was struggling under the weight of the accumulated rain water.

I stepped into OlivoCarne and was immediately welcomed in by the friendly staff who took my dripping jacket and gloves into the cloakroom.

The dining area has large glass walls letting in generous amounts of natural light. It extends into the depths of the building and I chose a seat half-way through the place, with the rain, the clouds and the puddles to my right.

The menu is Sardinian, rather than merely Italian; a fact that may sadly be lost on those who are unaware of the gastronomical distinctions between the various Italian regions.

They source many ingredients from Sardinia directly – no mean feat, given the logistics of shipping from one island to another – but I find that knowing that you are going to taste food grown under the Mediterranean sun instantly makes the menu glow with expectation.

I had a soup with lentils and carrots to warm up. The dish was a cross between a broth and a soup; it was not creamy but fluid; smooth and warm, like the sensation of the summer sea as it rolls off your sun-burnt torso when you lie by the water’s edge after a day on the beach.

Perfectly aware that OlivoCarne’s specialty is meat, I deliberately chose to have a risotto. Firstly, because if done well, few things can beat a good risotto. Secondly, because I believe that the sign of a good restaurant is how well it can produce the things it does not specialise in.

I was not disappointed. Each soft, oleaginous mouthful melted away accompanied by the strong earthy sensation of mushrooms that taste like the inside of a Hobbit’s underwear drawer. The portion was just shy of being substantial which didn’t leave me feeling bloated.

Naturally they had the typical Sardinian mirtillo liquor. Mirtillo is Italian for blueberry and this is a liquor made out of that fruit. Technically, it is a blend of grappa and blueberry juice but each producer will have his own recipe. The fashionable trend in Italy is to mix this into cocktails – I’m told it’s fabulous with gin – but I prefer the old-fashioned tradition of drinking the forest fruit concoction neat.

If you’re in London and fancy a meal without hundreds of curious tourists gawking past your table, if you feel like exploring London as it is seen by its inhabitants, if you feel like being a local and fancy a good meal to round off your day, I would suggest you head to OlivoCarne and taste a few mouthfuls of Sardinia.

PS: I have to apologise for the lack of photos; I was too enthusiastic to start eating before I remembered to take pictures! That’s how good the food is!