Bar Leone
You only need to say two words to conjure up the image of neighbourhood locale, Bar Leone: Mortadella Sandwich. I had heard so much about this infamous sandwich from the moment this bar (by THE Lorenzo Antinori) opened – whether from our chefs at work, first-date conversations, or from my mom because she saw it on Instagram, I knew I had to try it for myself.
A ham sandwich couldn’t cause this much of a fuss, could it? But at the same time, I was also thinking about the simplistic brilliance of the combination. Bread and ham, with the right condiments, perfectly toasted, drizzled with tons of olive oil, seasoned with the right garnishes, could be magical.
Most people talk about the layer upon layer of thinly sliced mortadella that makes up about two-thirds the height of that sandwich, but for me, it’s the bread.
The reason I still crave a trip to Bar Leone is that light, golden, crispy, chewy focaccia. The perfect vehicle for all that flavour – the saltiness of the olives, the sourness of the pickled chillies, the creaminess of the ricotta mascarpone, and of course, the umami of the mortadella. It strikes a punchy balance that couldn’t be maintained without the warmth and full body of that toasted bread.
I have to admit, my order didn’t stop there. The zingy Ox Tongue Carpaccio came with a stack of perfectly toasted sourdough, a little more robust and rustic than the above. Or there was that same focaccia but with a slightly sweeter filling – a rich, chocolatey Nutella, sprinkled with sea salt and elevated with the woodsy, lemony aroma of rosemary. Yet another one that was so simple, but too good to stop eating.
To finish it all off with a frozen cappuccino made even better by the Lotus biscuit on the side (our Biscoff obsession continues), I left that night with bread-filled satisfaction, dreaming of olive oil and my sourdough toast for breakfast the next morning.
