I have a confession. Two, actually. The first? I hate Shoreditch. The second? I’m not hugely fussed about Spanish cuisine. Yet I arrive at Legado and leap head-first into aversions. If it’s been sprinkled with chef Nieves Barragán Mohacho’s culinary magic, I’m willing to make exceptions.
Barragán helped revolutionise London tapas at Barrafina. She then secured herself a Michelin star at Soho’s Sabor. So it’s no surprise Legado, translating to legacy, is a highly anticipated opening. The team aim ‘to bring Spain’s lesser told stories to life’ and walking through the doors of this Montacute Yard spot, I immediately feel part of it.
Wood fired ovens roar, bar seats are thronged with diners, and there is a homely hum of conversation filling the expansively high ceiling. With terracotta floor tiles, natural woods, and wine cabinets stacked against exposed brick, Thursday evening in E1 is transformed into Northern Galicia with the extended family.
Legado is the kind of place you could take your family, actually. It’s also a place you could take friends who feel like family, friends you want to impress, friends you are long overdue catch-ups with, or even your work colleagues (the ones you like, anyway). I go with Square Mile features editor Max, who definitely falls into one of those categories.
We start with ‘3 sip serves’: small cocktails made in house, each one a nod to a different region of Spain. They’re poured at the table into mismatched artisan ceramics. I luck out – my vessel is closer to a bowl while Max’s looks more like an egg cup. He knocks his melon, grape and tequila back in one: “definitely not three.” I manage to eke my rhubarb and bonanto out for five perfectly aromatic sips. I guess that’s the difference between staff writers and freelancers.
The menu is huge. At least seven sections, each with a minimum of five dishes. They recommend three to four per person. It feels nigh impossible to choose, especially when prices change significantly. We’re confused: £16 for some lamb cutlets? £85 for a quarter of a suckling pig? Yet I trust it: this place is founded in whole-animal butchery expertise. There’s even a specific oven solely for the pig.
Back to that later. We start with the royal feat of queen scallops. They vivify the palate with an exuberant vinaigrette of fresh cucumber and chilli. Next is the famous Legado sandwich. It’s absolutely my thing: entirely comprised of swiss chard, cured beef, and smoked cheese with a panko crumb. I catch Barragan working the kitchen in my periphery. She isn’t afraid to put her inner workings on display, much the same as the wondrous cheese filling of the sandwich oozing onto the plate in front of me.
Then things get dark. Inky spoonfuls of sauce beneath marvels of stuffed squid; black fideua with tempura shrimp; morcilla with tear-jerkingly cute quail eggs. We cut through rich flavours with Fino sherry, and quaff Garnacha Blanca at the recommendation of Sommelier Marcus Segurado. Wines here are as expressive as the food: extensive in selection, exclusively off-the-beaten track, and utterly devourable.
Onto the main event: the pig. We’re feeling brave and opt for a crispy head. Max wastes no time pulling off an ear, while I admire delicately pipetted lemon balm gel before nibbling the snout. Together we tear succulent cheeks. It’s not long before there’s no meat left.
Max asks the waiter if we should consume the eye, proffering himself as our bushtucker-trial contestant. “I think the eye might have been one step too far,” he confesses as he swigs 2023 Garnacha Tinto “Zeta” to cleanse the palate. Nonetheless he gives it a go. A little goey, apparently, but not bad.
The table next to us split a whole pig between four. It’s cut tableside with a plate. Porky limbs poke out of Castilian casserole dishes. Definitely more than we could chew, although we’d be happy to return with some – if not all – our friends to put that to the test, though.
Dessert is golden. We sip iodine velvet Pedro Ximenez while scooping pastel saffron ice cream topped with olive oil. I pop to the toilet before I leave. Looking down from the Bilbao-inspired iron balcony, I take in the marvel. Diners look genuinely relaxed; genuinely present. It’s all incredibly European.
People are popping in here for small plates and cocktails, for first-drink confessions and heart-felt conversations. Big groups tart themselves up to spend three hours together while dropping £85 on a slab of pork and regretting none of it. Expect to drop around £250 on dinner for two, especially if you opt for the menu’s more expensive items.
Barragan’s inventiveness is grounded in tradition and she has created a warm and inviting restaurant. Safe, homely but with hints of glamour. Did I say you could dine with anyone? I take that back. Probably best you don’t book this one for your vegan colleague’s promotion dinner. Unless of course they stole your promotion, in which case: crack on and place the pig’s head in front of them.
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Yards, Unit 1C Montacute, London E1 6HU; Legado
