Decimo, Kings Cross

One of London's greatest strengths is its ability to offer up a good feed, in any chosen cuisine, at most price points. Taking Spanish food as an example (as that's why we're here today), it's just as easy - and rewarding, in its own way - to sit down at Bar Pepito (Kings Cross) for ham croquetas, tomato bread and a glass of sherry and be presented with a bill of £15 as it is to head down the road to Pizarro and drop a ton on a plate of silky Iberico ham, seafood paella and a roast suckling lamb for 2. I can't think of many notable world cuisines that aren't represented at at least an option of budgets, and most can boast quite a range, from super cheap to wallet-busting.

Decimo, perched on the top floor of the five star Standard hotel in Kings Cross, will be the first to admit they are placed very firmly in the "special occasion" price range. One of the more eyecatching items on the menu is their signature tortilla topped with caviar which weighs in at £170, and though not every dish is quite this bling, this is a kitchen that prides itself on the finest ingredients, cooked perfectly. And it shows.

Before that though, a drink. The bar at Decimo is large and beautifully appointed, with interestingly designed leather bar stools and a list of house speciality cocktails alongside the usual classic repertoire. And though my martini was decent in the end, they lose a couple of points firstly for in that vast bar space having no freezers for frozen glasses, and secondly, and perhaps less forgiveably, for noticing at the last minute they were serving my drink in the wrong glass. Instead of just sticking with their first choice, which would hardly have been a problem, I watched as it was poured back into the shaker, stirred briefly and then reapplied to a smaller glass, leaving leftover martini in the shaker which I never got to enjoy. Which was a bit upsetting, to be honest.

Fortunately from the moment we were sat in a nice window table and the food started arriving, Decimo hardly put a foot wrong. The famous (caviar-less) tortilla is literally perfect, even more accomplished, with its notes of wood smoke and soft sliced potato, than the version served at Barrafina, up to this point the gold standard of Spanish egg dishes. I mean, look at the colour of that yolk.

I avoided the taco as I'd eaten enough of the things to last me a lifetime on a recent trip to San Diego and Tijuana. However, what arrived in front of my friend was so attractively constructed and colourful it really made me think twice about my decision. I did try a bite of the chicharrones on top, though, which was very nice.

Tomato salad was the kind of thing Bar Nestor (San Sebastien) would have been proud to have on its menu. These were either superb quality tomatoes, or they had been subtly sweetened somehow to bring out a more intense tomato flavour. Or in fact, most likely, both of those things. The advertised 'herbs' weren't heavy handed, just enough to add a bit of extra depth - really the star here was the main ingredient, and it really shone.

Then, all at once and with very little fanfare, four dishes that rank with some of the finest things I've ever had the pleasure of eating in the capital. Each was good enough to justify the existence of the restaurant by itself, and deserves far more attention than a few lines on a blog. But, in the interests of not boring you senseless and to stop my gushing from becoming too embarrassing, I'll keep it as brief as I can. Firstly, Iberico pork, fillet I think, cooked carefully over the flames and with just a gentle touch of pink in the flesh, which absolutely melted on the tongue, dissolving into pork fat and salt and smoke. I can hardly remember a better bit of pork, and Iberico already comes with a serious weight of expectation. This was world-class stuff.

Giant fat asparagus, again grilled with a masterful timing to just get licks of charring on the outside but be absolutely the right texture on the inside, simply seasoned and dressed with scattered rosemary sprigs. No hollandaise, no pointless spices, no cleverness or complications, just a fine ingredient, grilled and plated. We ate the whole plate in about 30 seconds between us.

One giant langoustine, was also expertly grilled so that the legs were all crisp and crunchy but the tail and claw flesh still firm and coherent. The flavour from the thing was unbelievable, sweet and salty and powerful, and enough to remind me that despite so many places overcooking, undercooking and otherwise messing up the preparation of these delicate animals, when it's done right, and you start with the very best, langoustines are my absolute favourite shellfish.

Well, my favourite before the red prawns arrived, at least. The deep, rich, buttery flavour of these beautiful things has about as much in common with a normal Atlantic prawn as a frozen fish stick does to an Alaskan King Crab - these are not just a different variety of prawn. They are the pinnacle of the seafood experience, as close to life-changing as anything else you can order in a restaurant anywhere, and we are deeply privileged to have them available to us here in London. The first slurp of the head juices (not in the least bit bitter, it's like a mini portion of the finest buttery seafood bisque, believe me) took me right back to when I'd first tried them back in 2009. I pointed this out to my friend, who said it was the wankiest thing I've ever said.

Desserts were pleasant enough to preserve the memory of what had come before, if just a little unambitious (and rather small). Crema Catalana was nicely done but about 2 teaspoons worth, and I suppose a single scoop of masa ice cream continues the stripped-back nature of the way they go about things at Decimo, but it would have been a bit forgettable indeed without the suggested pairing of caramelly Mount Gay rum.

But despite the odd niggle, Decimo managed to be one of the most memorable meals of the last few years simply down to an experts sourcing of the finest British and Spanish ingredients, and an ability to present them at the very peak of their powers. And yes, for this kind of experience you need to open your wallet a bit. A quick tot up of the menu reveals our dinner would have come to about £120 each, not a ruinous amount of money compared to what you can shell out (no pun intended) elsewhere, but still an amount that you'd need to be very confident in advance would yield significantly impressive results.

Well, take it from me, you can be absolutely sure Decimo is worth your time and your money. Inexperienced bar staff and unadventurous desserts, these are things that can be easily fixed and even if not, are not the end of the world. Where it matters, in sourcing of ingredients and live fire cooking skills, Decimo is already streets ahead of its rivals, and it's only going to get better. If you have any kind of curiosity about just how good food like this can be, and you have the means to enjoy it, then don't even hesitate for a second. This is the restaurant you've been waiting for.

9/10

I was invited to Decimo and didn't see a bill.