Portal

88 St John Street EC1M 4EH

Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. Lord knows, He could try. All manner of damnable sins are in Portal and save you from them He shall not. Lust, gluttony, greed and sloth – they all have their place at Portal. It’s name alone implies a gateway to a world less pious than ours.

Indeed, much like Dante describing his many-levelled Inferno, Portal is peopled by the sleaziest of humans – lawyers, stockbrokers, TV execs, football managers – each of them accompanied by a woman too tactile to be their daughter, too young to be their colleague and too blonde to be their wife.

It’s hard to write about Portal without mentioning ‘Mourinho and the bug’. This was the story in 2006 involving the restaurant and a bugging device used to eavesdrop on the Chelsea manager’s idle dinner chatter. Some theories have it that Mourinho’s opponents were attempting to find out if he’s a 4-3-3 man or whether he prefers something a little more direct. However, there’s no doubt that what the culprits would’ve heard was nothing more than a symphony of moaning, masticating and carnal wailings. These are the sounds issued when superior Portuguese authenticity is regarded for all its worth.

Portal is The Special One. This is the sort of wickedness no human can deny. This is indulgent luxury at its very worst and very best. It cant be good for you, so you’ll do it anyway.

The bar has a voluptuous array of eye-catching species:
- unique wanton liqueurs such as acorn, honey, cherry and almond (and even a brand that translates into “when you get the stiff”)
- sweet, treacly, dry white apéritif muscatels that prevent global warming by negating the need to ever fly to Portugal
- Wines such as the Quinta do Portal Reserva Douro 2003, from where the venue’s name originates
- Port that has been carefully selected by owner Antonio Correia whose knowledge of the drink has earned him a recent invitation to join The Royal Port Society

If the bar is limbo then the restaurant is the second chamber of Sin. What is ostensibly a cow-shed with a duel personality (a greenhouse), the large, open, bright space is deliberately alfresco in its implication. The enormity of the windows, the stripped bare brickwork, the mystery held within the dark stained wood – all combine to intensify the promiscuousness of the visage. Even the bathrooms are stocked with Molton Brown products - a sure sign of perversion.

The food itself is summoned from an open plan kitchen and has a traditional, rustic Iberian persuasion. A magnitude of alluring varietals are on offer but eschew them all, except one. There is but one licentious combination that is more captivating than all the others put together.

The entrée is simple. Foie gras complimented by a1977 Reserva muscatel. You may be inclined not finish it all, as is the etiquette of restaurants such as this, but it is futile to resist the temptation to lick the ‘harmony of two sauces’ from your plate.

Next comes the half-pig half-boar braised bisaro which was not only marinated in wine for 10 days, but also slow cooked for up to twelve hours. That’s tender. As your knife touches the flesh, see how it falls from the bone in submission.

The orgy climaxes in the final part of this orgasmic trilogy - a drunken pear in ‘aletria’. You now become sloth.

Note the reasonably extravagant prices. In order to get the full treatment here you’ll be expected to pay the price. Therefore, save it for a client luncheon (company credit card) or a special anniversary with that young blonde you’ve been seeing. Your secret is safe, the bugs have been killed.

As for the remaining three sins – envy, anger and pride – just watch your friends’ faces when you tell them about your adventure at Portal…it’s discovery or damnation!

Doing for gastronomy what Cristiano Ronaldo does for football. Otherwise 9 out of 10