It takes a lot for me to bother writing a restaurant review, but I am motivated by my experience last night at Cambio de Tercio. According to legend, Rafa Nadal dines there when in London, which is a grabber for me. He can afford good meals, bad meals, any meals, and I love his cross-court backhand. My take? The starters were the first yellow flags: the recommended ‘8 hours’ tomatoes were treacly sweet, overcaramelized and a major disappointment. The ham croquettes (waiter insisted I could get pork, but it was ham I got) were not crisp, as croquettes should be, but crumbly, mash-potato-y, and with barely any meat. And the tuna tartar mysteriously never arrived, in spite of two reminders to the waiter and one to the manager. On to the mains: my companion and I both ordered the bacalao, for which the euphoric recall of my Portuguese nanny's mother's annual bacalao kept me motoring through the flat first act. The cod, while tender and unquestionably fresh, was tasteless, unseasoned and flat-out boring, accompanied by the eeriest-looking side of over-squid-inked grilled baby squid and pancetta. When we politely commented to the waiter (and then to the manager) that the bacalao was lacking, there was no apology. The manager pointed out that Portugese bacalao is salted, Spanish is not, which I accepted. He then proceeded to bring us another portion – equally flavorless – as if to say, “Here, it really is better than you think.” I was reminded of George Bernard Shaw's comment that Mahler's music is “better than it sounds.” No free side, no offer to ‘compensate’ us for a clearly unhappy experience. The final coup de farce: as we were leaving, I noticed an enticing dessert dish of chocolate truffles and mini-ice cream cones perched on the bar. When I inquired, the bartender asked, “You didn't get one?” – as if to say everyone gets one. All this at a rather steep price. My advice? Watch Rafa on TV, hang a pintura de un toro on your wall, and order in tapas. Do yourself a favor and skip Cambio de Tercio.