There was always something so perfectly special about descending the stairs to Joe Allen of old. Before you could even ask if there was any chance of a table, there he would be standing before you, a pen behind his ear, menus under an arm, a cloth tucked alongside a waiter’s pad in the folds of the skimpiest of aprons and that smile so very irresistible, with eyes twinkling. A youthful Russell Norman had you swept up and away…
“Righteo, Come this way…”
Within moments, we would be sat at a table, a bunch of young ne'er do well cooks, and without a moment to even glance at the menu, an order for a martini and a burger each was being scribbled on to the pad pulled from his apron, the pen pulled from behind his ear.
We all went often, for Joe Allen was an institution without equal, London's very own slice of New York, and though the martini was excellent, the burger good, it was the staff that had folk coming back time and again. Right in the thick of it was Russell Norman.
A bright, bonny and brilliant presence on the floor always, Russell left Joe Allen to come and work his magic at Blueprint Café, done with style and charm though all the time he pined for the West End which he returned to soon enough.
Russell dazzled in many a famous London restaurant building his reputation as a great manager, imbued with great wit, an uncanny memory, never forgetting a face or a name, what folk ordered, where they liked to sit and how to handle them when ‘their’ table was occupied. His energy was boundless having become a formidable maitre d' who could move through a dining room with all the grace and glamour of a Broadway choreographer.
But it was not in glamour or giddy lights in which he found true success. It was opening Polpo on Beak St in Soho, with all the ‘savoir faire’ from years in the restaurant business under his belt, honing his remarkable skills.
A sure fire hit from when the doors of Polpo first opened, Russell rewrote the rule book for a bustling busy great dining room, serving with bravado, from menus printed on paper bought in Italy, the attention to detail always so delightful, small dishes of food, a negroni served in small glasses and wine in pots and jugs. It was Italy reimagined and was the foundation of a whole series of bars and restaurants, with Polpo and Spuntino at the very heart of it all.
The success was dazzling but come a time Russell moved on and fell even deeper in love with Italy, and in particular, the cities of Venice and Florence, furthering his relationship with these cities by moving there to live in them, to eat and gather dishes and their recipes.
He fed a hearty appetite and curiosity for what it was that made these cities, their food and cooking so wonderfully singular and special. I met him in Venice when cooking there once and I have never seen a grin so wide, beaming from ear to ear, so delighted was he to be living in such a fabled city.
But after a while, unable to resist a challenge, Russell returned to London and opened Brutto in Clerkenwell, a polished, gorgeous, wonderful trattoria replete with chequered cloths, pots of wine and that ineffable spirit with which Russell infused a room.
And on the great wave of success came resounding applause for the book Brutto to accompany the restaurant, as lovely as his award-winning book for Polpo. And there he was in front of me again, a few rather distinguishing grey hairs of course, but pretty much unchanged in all these years with that wonderfully nutty great grin of his, flush with another success.
What a way to go, brilliant and tragic.
We have lost a very bright light that illuminated the restaurant business so very splendidly. How we will all miss you dear Russell, a true original. Farewell.
