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Remembering Russell Norman

From a visit to Brutto back in April this year

I’ve found myself thinking a lot about Russell Norman this past week.

For those of you who haven’t heard of him he was a very successful and stylish restaurateur who created two groundbreaking Italian-inspired restaurants and wrote a couple of wonderful cookbooks, including, most recently, Brutto.

His untimely death at the age of just 57 prompted an outpouring of sadness - I hesitate to use the word grief because I feel that sentiment can only be claimed by those who were close to him - and I only knew him slightly.

That would include the staff who were working with him in his restaurant Brutto to whom the restaurant announced on instagram they were giving a break today.

I hadn’t given them much of a thought to be honest imagining more the pain his partner and family must be going through. Of course they need a break though keeping going in familiar surroundings might well have helped over those first few stunned days. 

Anyway I thought if they can turn up for work I can certainly turn up to eat in what has been one of my favourite London restaurants so, finding myself with a free lunchtime on Friday, I walked in and asked if they had a table.

The charming greeter looked doubtful then said she would see if she could find one. And she did (there must have been a couple for walk-ins).

The place was rammed with happy customers. Did they not know what had happened, I wondered. Maybe they did and were celebrating Russell’s life and legacy in the best way possible. I just felt this overwhelming wave of sadness that took me by surprise. I almost burst into tears.

It shouldn’t have done. We tend to identify with charismatic figures who die unexpectedly before their time particularly, it has to be said, when they’re good looking. (Norman had film-star looks.) Think of the shock we felt at David Bowie’s, Tony Bourdain’s and, of course, Princess Diana’s passing, a raw feeling you don’t experience quite so viscerally when someone dies after a long illness.

But it also reminds us about love and loss in our own lives. I lost my husband suddenly eight years ago in similar circumstances.

“Are you eating on your own?” my waitress asked. When I nodded she said. “Would you like a spritz? We offer all solo diners a spritz” going on to explain it wasn’t just any spritz (of course it wasn’t) but made with Select (a Venetian aperitivo which is on offer at Ocado, by the way), white wine (rather than prosecco) and soda. (The recipe’s in the book.) 

I hadn’t intended to come in for more than a plate of pasta and maybe a negroni but it seemed churlish not to respond to their generosity so I ordered some chicken liver crostini and a glass of wine as well as the pasta - a wonderfully tasty plate of trofie with cavolo nero and hazelnut pesto which was appropriately far from pretty. (Brutto means ugly in Italian.) 

“Have you ever had our tiramisu?” asked the waitress, encouragingly. I hadn’t but said I’d look at the dessert menu and, still feeling I wanted to do more to support the restaurant, ordered an affogato.

“Do you know that has brandy with it?” she asked, maybe concerned that I was overdoing it.

I hadn’t noticed but said it was fine

And it was. More than fine. It came in 3 mini Duralex tumblers. One for the ice cream, one for the espresso and one for the brandy. Another stylish Russell touch.

When they handed me the bill it came with this postcard

And there was this sign above the loo rolls.

Russell Norman - the consummate restaurateur - thought of everything.

I left restored and what better tribute can you give a restaurant than that?

Thankyou to the Brutto team for keeping going. Thankyou Russell. You touched the lives of everyone who came in contact with you.

Do go again soon if you love it or for the first time if you haven’t been.

Brutto is at 35-37 Greenhill Rents, London EC1M 6BN (along the road from Farringdon tube, just by Smithfield market)