By the time I arrived at Llerena, a cosy Spanish tapas bar and restaurant on Islington’s eclectic Upper Street, the early evening scene was beginning to unfold – the comfortable embryonic whisper of the night, when conversations are still tender. Bebop notes bounced gently through the room to be illuminated by the cavernous lighting. Outside, the crowds drifted past, their transience set against my quiet stillness inside.

Alberto, the owner, greeted me with the resolve of a matador – assured, faintly theatrical. He is from the eponymous town of Llerena in western Spain, where his family has farmed for four generations. The restaurant is both a love letter and export: the London outpost of Alberto’s family devotion to the flavours of Extremadura – the ingredients and passion of his home town brought to Islington and plated with care.

Jamón Ibérico, cured into think ribbons, ‘from farm to plate’

The culinary heartbeat of Llerena keeps time with its Jamón Ibérico – a 24-month labour of sunlight and care, cured into thin, matte-mahogany ribbons that furl across a slate slab. It had a tanned, almost oaky richness; each bite awakened both flavour and texture – a Wonka-esque reaction in the mouth. Here, fat and salt do the talking; Alberto knows better than to interfere: no bastardisation through seasoning; the meat tells its story eloquently, guiding us through the sun-drenched hills of Badajoz: more memory than flavour.

I was poured a glass of Habla de la Tierra, a dry red which danced with the ham’s intensity, and each sip settled the salty dispute. The bread, light and airy, served as a welcome bed for the interaction, a punctuation for each bite.

Next came the Calamar a la plancha, slow-cooked to tenderness, with a rich squid ink mayo on the side; the light meat was coaxed into a soft, deep-sea intensity. Its flavour was rich and garlicky, but not so imposing as to hold court over the squid’s delicate simplicity. The tentacle, lightly charred, balanced freshness and smoke with an almost shy perfection.

Then, the Pluma Ibérica a la sal – pork loin cooked in salt, still singing from the plancha when it arrived. The salt wasn’t an accent; it was the overture. The Ibérico brought age and depth; the squid, a maritime whisper of salt; the pluma, that generous, unshowy middle ground. I mixed them, unrepentantly – a glutton’s cocktail, like blending every drink at Nando’s but with infinitely more grace. The servers floated about with the calm choreography of people who know exactly when to disappear.

Alberto checked in with me occasionally, never intruding, always reading my expression with a quiet acknowledgement. His charm was that of a tour guide rather than a manager – clearly proud of what he serves with a flicker of understanding for each of my thankful glances. He tells me they have Sundays reserved for Flamenco night, and lively music on Fridays, when the restaurant transforms from mid-week calm to encierro, from whisper to stampede.

Pluma Ibérica a la sal

The menu, he explains, is sourced entirely from his family’s farm, ensuring the produce remains faithful to its origin. A few dishes have been gently adapted for London, but the Jamón Ibérico remains sacred. “Farm to plate,” he says, almost as a benediction.

Somewhere between the wine and the writing, it strikes me that the meal demands reverence. The food invites moderation – out of respect, not politeness. To overeat would be an act of greed; to stop too soon, a sin against craftsmanship.

When I finally lifted my head from the lattice of Ibérico, Upper Street returned like a half-remembered dream – buses sighing, couples walking idly the wrong way home. The trance had lifted, but for a moment I had been elsewhere: in that Spanish pueblo, blessed by salt and sun, summoned by meat.

Llerena is far more than an Islington restaurant. It’s a testament to the idea that the ingredient is the statement, where restraint duels indulgence, and the chefs know the composites are the event itself.

Alberto presides at the centre, half matador, half missionary, turning the act of eating into a ceremony. Llerena stands as Spain’s consulate in Islington – a proud letter of love to its produce.

Llerena
167 Upper Street
N1 1US
07544 572624
llerena@jamonysalud.com
llerena.co.uk
Instagram:llerena.ibericotapasbar