The Windmill W1

That ‘personal touch’ – or, rather, its absence – is something of a defining characteristic of City eateries. So the comments of the waitress at this recently revamped pub – a couple of minutes’ walk from Finsbury Square – came as a bit of a shock. She informed me that the tiramisu I had ordered was not ready yet, but the chocolate cake was very good – “I know, because I made it myself.”

In all the circumstances it would have seemed churlish to decline this handy menu hint, so I can report that the said chocolate cake was indeed very good. It was admittedly not a sophisticated dessert, and it was none the worse for that. In fact, there is nothing at all sophisticated about this place, which is run by an Italian long resident in this country, and his Brazilian partner (whom you’ve already met). There doesn’t quite seem to be any existing word for this style of operation, but if you imagined a classic city-centre pub – not of the gastro-variety – where the Italians had seized control of the small kitchen, you wouldn’t be that far off.

The result is a perfect ‘drop-in’ sort of establishment, ideal for a generous lunchtime or early-evening plate of charcuterie, perhaps followed by a bowl of tasty (if probably not home-made) pasta. The only sadness is that – although there is a range of foreign beers on tap – there is no bitter on draft. (London Pride is, however, available in bottles.) There’s also a modest range of wines.

Part of the of the place’s charm is that, on the décor front, they haven’t tried too hard. Now, if only they’d only left out the wide-screen TV…