Tropea gets everything right. The service is remarkably good, helpful, friendly, just the right amount of time spent in pleasantries and the delivery of information about the food being served and useful suggestions if the diner asks for them and a just sense of knowing what service is.
The seating is comfortable and the tables are big enough to make sure everything on them is not in a permanent state of having to be shuffled around every minute or so. The decor is bright and pleasant, the large front window opening on to the world outside gives natural light to the restaurant even if it is a mildly depressing street in Harborne chokingly busy with traffic, which never seems to me to be as attractive as those who live there seem to believe - it’s not Hampton in Arden or Henley in Arden or Knowle, let’s put it that way.
But regardless of the somewhat dreary inner city suburb in which Tropea is located, it’s all about the food and that is at the apogee of great, delicious dining in the city - comfortingly rustic, generally portioned, gorgeously, unashamedly enjoyable.
I started as I feel I must always do, with my aperitivo in the form of a soul relaxing paper plane and then nibbled on the sweetly acidic, nicely crunchy housemade seasonal pickles while I waited for my other antipasti which took the form of delightful sliced courgettes in light, fawn-coloured tempura batter sweetened moreishly with drizzles of Moor Pool honey and finished with pecorino giving the battered courgettes a furry look - a nice autumn successor to the courgette flower fritti served in summer.
And then an absolute gem as the pasta course - lovely paccheri with a delicious sausage ragu and the profound domination of fennel all crested by 30 month old Parmigiana Reggiano, the entire ensemble rendering a dish of deep flavour and pleasing texture. A hit!A palpable hit!
For my main, I chose what turned out to be perfectly barbecued half chicken - its meat as tender and tasty as one could hope for and its size not that of some mean little pullet. This was a bountiful chicken dressed with gremolata and served along with a fascinating salad of celery, parsley, leaves, crunchy radishes and the sweet hit of little halved black grapes - quite delightful.
I haven’t really considered myself to be a tiramisu man but I opted to have the dish on the grounds that it was about time I did. Of the mistakes I have made in my life, not up to now choosing to eat Tropea’s tiramisu ranks as one of the greatest. On the deliciousness scale this dessert as served in Tropea completely scores 10 and then exceeds the scale by several points. The sponge is so light, the cream so soothing, the whole so toothsome. Best of all, it was a large portion, probably meant to be shared by two but I reflected that the pleasure of dining alone is that one doesn’t have to share such wonderful creations. No, sharing is good but letting someone else even just sample your Tropea tiramisu is a sheer folly which should consign the person guilty of such an act to an instant fifty years in purgatory. I coupled my tiramisu with a bold and perfectly matching White Russian, a choice of which the barman seemed to approve.
Tropea seems to have reached a point where its food is perfectly judged in quality and degree of enjoyment and if it is more unpretentiously rustic than fine, its deliciousness is spectacular. I think it will be my Birmingham restaurant of the year.
See also Blog 489.
Rating:- 🌞🌞
24 October 2025.
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