Chino Latino

18 Albert Embankment, Lambeth SE1 7TJ

My dearest darling Chino Latino,

It troubles me so that we should be apart for so long. I shall never forget meeting you for the first time the other night. I recall how excited I was as I wandered along the waterfront from Vauxhall station. Before we even set eyes on one another, I remember gazing over the Thames at the majesty of Big Ben, admiring the architectural prowess of the London Eye, and pondering what secrets lay behind the Mi6 guarded fences. All this put me in a speculative mindset - “What will Chino Latino be like?” - and, I must admit, I first thought you might be of Spanish persuasion, what with a name such as yours.

How wrong I was. You were much bigger than I had envisaged. Your bar was enormous and as easy as an airport lounge, but I stayed only briefly because I wanted to meet the real you, the restaurant you. I loved your look immediately. You were very swanky, well groomed and neatly framed with subtle hints of red splashed on your dark floors, dark ceilings, dark walls. Your oversized cream leather backing was lovely to lean on. Your dangling orbs shed just enough sultry light. Your long rubber-textured seating was luxuriously sexy and had I accidentally spilled something, I’m certain it would’ve wiped off.

I was a little disappointed by your tables; they were a bit on the small size. If we were meant to be sharing all this pan-Asian tapas, where was I supposed to be putting it? I was quite jealous of the larger, more secluded tables near the bar (used when a group of people all come at once, I’m guessing?).

I was also a tad disheartened by your window view: a fence, a train track, and a rubbish skip. Surely you deserve better? I understand why you try hiding your blemishes with that thin drape covering, but aren’t you more suited to the first floor viewing platform next to the river? Why shy away at the back of an uninspiring hotel when you’re obviously the best thing about it?

Your general appearance definitely pleased me, though, and the spread you laid on for me was equally compelling. Each slice of that yellow tail sashimi had its own eye of chilli and hat of coriander. It felt so sinful to eat and yet so right, as well.

Your menu was deliciously flawless; your presentation, immaculately conceived; your sizes, satisfyingly perfect. I loved how your raison d'etre was to share. Does ‘Chino’ imply your Asian heritage and ‘Latino’ confess your secret tapas style?

You started me off with your humongous measure of edamame - filling enough for two people - and your crispy hoi sin duck with cucumber was enjoyably tactile. I love to play with my food. To follow, you openly displayed your black cod and it simply fell apart, melting in my mouth. I’m glad it was served right next to me. If I’d had to reach across the table to get at it, I would’ve surely made a mess.

Your steak on hot rocks flirtatiously caught my eye, too. I loved the way it sizzled and steamed on a bed of bamboo. Oh, how delightful. It reminded me of an ornamental stress garden and I longed to just stare at it in total tranquility. The delicate serving of baby pak choi and the spoonful of jasmine rice only added to my ecstasy.

And then you gave me your just desserts. And my, it wasn’t just desserts. It was the dessert platter. I thought a rainbow had just exploded right in front of me. Every exotic colour and scent my mind could muster, all cradled in ice. I’ve seen fruits such as these at the supermarket before but I’ve always been too afraid to try them. I’m glad you were there to hold my hand.

Our evening was made even more special when you wooed me with your hooch. It was so caring of you to start me off slowly with your pink, lychee Virgin Momo. But as intoxicating as it was, the lack of alcohol left me craving something stronger. I admit, your signature champagne-and-juice cocktail made me a little giddy and perhaps a teeny bit giggly. And the sight of your muscular wine list got me all a fluster. From the buttery Puligny-Montrachet Louis Jadot to the velvety spice of Hawke’s Bay Vidal Estate Syrah, you certainly get around. And around. And around. And around. And having nine types of sake and three types of house wine in each colour, that’s just showing off. Your cocktails were certainly Latin in spirit, too.

I find it very interesting that you chose to shack up in a hotel. Or that the hotel chose you. You seem so....so....so specialised, so niche. Do you do continental breakfast for guests that stay overnight? I see that you’re very active online, offering customers special deals through the week. That clearly makes you very popular. When I arrived at 7pm, I had you all too myself - which was nice - but I must confess, I preferred you at 8pm when you were busier and less like a library.

Although I loved every minute of our summer fusion encounter, I’d much rather we meet again in the winter, if that’s OK with you? Your dark colours, your alert staff, your soft, sensual lighting: they all spell ‘cosy up’ to me. You’re more than just a passing fancy for traveling businessmen, Chino Latino. Your my Chino Latino and you were my dream first date.

Love from your anonymous admirer