Order the Dubai tavoletta at Il Gattopardo, Mayfair’s homage to 1960s Italiana, and you will be presented with a chisel. Michelangelo didn’t carve his David with a dessert spoon, and Head Pastry Chef Galileo Reposo’s take on Dubai chocolate shouldn’t be tackled with one either.
The tavoletta made its way onto Il Gattopardo’s menu in the wake of Dubai chocolate’s social media-fuelled ascendancy. Typically filled with a mixture of pistachio and kadayif – a shredded filo pastry – the chocolate bars began as the invention of Dubai chocolatier Fix Dessert. Gushing TikTok reviews created a global wave of popularity that has churned up lawsuits, headlines, and two-bar purchase limits for Waitrose shoppers.
“It’s the mix of sweet and salty, creamy and crunchy.” Galileo explained. “All the components your brain needs to get excited are there and carving it up adds an interactive element to take that even further”
Galileo told me that he was keen to keep those textures intact while adapting the dessert for the restaurant’s Italian menu: “Our whole mission is to use Italian ingredients, but link them to the their setting.” That means darker chocolate, and Piedmontese hazelnuts in place of pistachios.
The tavoletta arrived looking like something Michael Caine might have nabbed in The Italian Job – a pristine brick of tempered chocolate emblazoned with a golden leopard. Apparently unawed by the aura emanating from the wooden dessert board, my dining companion promptly hacked it to pieces.
I usually avoid chocolatey desserts. After a heavy meal (more on that later), I’m in pursuit of zest and refreshment, so rich or sugary desserts are off the cards. When given the choice between a lava cake and a fruit bowl, I will smugly opt for the latter.
The chisel-wielder I was eating with, who conveniently lives in Dubai, told me that the Dubai chocolate she’d tried in the past had been too sweet. Here, though, the sugar was balanced by an incredibly rich, tangy and savoury mixture of dark chocolate and salt. The crunch was present and accounted for, the kadayif preventing the rich hazelnut filling from becoming claggy. Il Gattopardo does have a fruit bowl on its menu, and I’m glad I didn’t choose it for a change.
Galileo works in close collaboration with the restaurant’s cocktail team, and our waiter Byron – probably the friendliest man on Albemarle Street – served the tavoletta with a dopocena, Italy’s version of an after-dinner tipple. Byron poured us a coffee negroni from a Bialetti espresso maker (in case we’d forgotten the restaurant’s theme).
It wasn’t the first cocktail of the evening, which may have explained our rapturous response to dessert. The tavoletta had rounded out a long procession of drinks and dishes, beginning with a martini that smelled like a cologne I wouldn’t be able to afford. It suited the surroundings. Il Gattopardo feels like the kind of upscale Italian restaurant you’d find in New York City – a dusky room of velvet booths and lacquered wood lit by misty Murano glass sconces. I’ve never been small enough to fit inside a cigar box, but I imagine it would feel something like Il Gattopardo’s dining room: varnished, perfumed, expensive.
We worked our way through the requisite mozzarella and tomato salad, a slightly oversweet, perfunctory margherita pizzette, and two pasta dishes – one lobster, the other pesto, both great. Byron, who I now believe to be vaguely magical, then appeared with a plate of dover sole drenched in lemony brown butter and capers.
The salad, pasta and sole were fantastic, but against all odds, it was a side dish that stole the show. Head Chef Andrea Mura’s parmesan-infused purea de patate might well be the best mashed potatoes I’ve ever had.
On meeting the very personable Andrea, I wasn’t surprised that he was the man behind the mash. As Galileo told me: “He’s out on the floor as much as possible. He knows what people like and what they don’t like.” If his tavoletta is anything to go by, so does Galileo.
After a final negroni in 1960s Positano, we waddled out of Il Gattopardo, surprised to find a balmy London night on the other side. And then we spotted him. Byron, having arranged a beautiful spring evening for us, shook our hands and wished us well.
Words by Alex Cohen
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