Superlatives tumble at new tapas joint, The Independent

Criticism flows from a reviewer's pen, but praise has a tendency to gush and splutter. Only when I come across a restaurant as faultless as Las Tapas de Lola do I find myself lost for words. Or more worryingly: spoilt for clich├ęs.

It is all of them: stunningly, stonkingly, wickedly good. A culinary tour de force, a revelation. It is that rare thing. You should beg, borrow or steal to eat there. It's mouthwatering, it's moreish, and it's yummy. Did I mention delicious? And toothsome? And (God forgive me) nyom. It's the bee's knees, the cat's meow, the dog's bollocks. It is all these things – and so much more. It is superlative.

And now for something you may actually find useful: make a reservation before you go.

Lola has one of the longest menus I've ever come across. There must be 50 dishes on it. Hunger and indecision are bad enough alone, but together they're unbearable.

Las Tapas de Lola has a lovely dining room. The lighting is warm and low, the tables are set a civilised distance apart, and the music is unobtrusive. It's filled with smiling, chatty punters, who are enthusiastically sharing bowls of food. There's a lot of dipping and mopping going on, and the wine is flowing. The menu is printed on brown paper place mats. Wines by the glass are written on a giant blackboard. I like not having to wait for a waiter to give me a menu. We have waited long enough.