There aren’t many buildings in London more impressive than Winston Churchill’s Old War Office, so it makes sense that this is where Milan-born Paper Moon finds its home, joining the prestigious Raffles Hotel, and a rather spectacular line-up of restaurants.
Like the building it's housed in, Paper Moon is unmistakably designed for a polished crowd. A muted colour palette is adorned with terracotta accents, whilst monochrome portraits of Hollywood legends form collages against the mirrored walls. A dramatic marble pedestal topped with a small olive tree commands the main dining room – although it has become something of a cluttered service station which slightly mars the overall aesthetic.
Service is sharp from the outset. We’ve barely sat down, yet our glasses are topped up and a basket of bread has appeared as if pulled from thin air. Warm, airy focaccia and whisper-thin pane carasau set the tone, salty and addictive, especially when generously dipped in rich olive oil and tangy balsamic. A Lemon Cheesecake cocktail makes for a playful aperitif, sweet and citrussy, as if dessert has come early. A lemon leaf tuile sits atop the foam, the first of many additional flourishes throughout the evening.
We kick off with octopus tentacles - nicely grilled, charred and curled at the edges, then perched in a silky potato mousse. The idea is a good one, but it gets slightly lost amongst diced tomatoes, and a herb-infused Mediterranean vinaigrette. Scallops are beautifully seared, practically melt-in-the-mouth, balanced against a bed of green pea cream and sea urchin sauce. It’s easy to see why this signature dish has become such a favourite.
Pasta is a highlight. Thick paccheri tubes lean perfectly al dente, and delicate burrata-filled parcels arrive layered with red prawn tails, and a bisque-like sauce that hums with bold seafood flavour, seamlessly blending sweet hits from the datterino tomatoes and sharp bursts of basil.
Tiramisu is firmly rooted in classic Italian territory. It’s perhaps a little heavy handed on the cocoa dusting, but it oozes with decadence. Elsewhere, pannacotta is delicately perfumed with Madagascar vanilla, and whilst the addition of almond crumble flirts with over-sweetness, a sharp hit of raspberry sauce redresses the balance.
Paper Moon isn’t breaking the mold, but when the setting is this grand, it doesn’t need to. Stylish, polished, and confident in the classics, an evening here is one well spent.