Tosca doesn't win the Italo-Germanic opera war, but she provides a fine night out

Note to self: When I next take the trouble to queue up for Royal Opera House tickets the day they go on sale, I really should check out who’s singing.

Had I done my research it is at least possible that I, making my purchase within three hours of the box office opening, might have gotten seats at one of the two performances of Tosca starring the dream trio of Angela Gheorghiu, Jonas Kaufmann and Bryn Terfel later this month. Unaware of those details, I opted for last night’s opening performance.

Of course, satisfaction was pretty much guaranteed, whoever was singing. This is one of my favourite operas, conducted by the wonderfully gifted Tony Pappano and staged in full splendour at one of the world’s greatest venues. While the tremendous trio would have given me bragging rights, Marcello Giordani made Mario’s famous arias stir my heart. Martina Serafin’s Tosca was passionate, brave and admirably fiesty, while Juha Uusitalo was a suitably despicable Scarpia. (Although I think the Finnish baritone actually underplayed the role. This is one of the most evil men in the operatic repertoire and I thought there could have been more menace in his delivery.)

I wish I could report the same satisfaction on my other half’s part, but the Wagner lover … as regular readers will know … is no fan of the Italian greats. At least he accompanied me happily, admitted there were some merits to the evening’s performance and had the foresight to get a nice bottle of white wine that carried us through both intermissions. During those breaks we continued our ongoing debate over the merits of Italian opera versus German, and though we’ll never agree, we did come to some conclusions about the source of our differences.

All operas balance music, production and plot. The great ones tend to have all three in abundance. But, inevitably, some elements are more dominant than others. In an honest moment of introspection (in the break just after Tosca had dispatched the heinous Scarpia with his own blade) I had to admit that plot comes first for me, followed by production, and then music. With these priorities, is it any wonder I love Tosca? A passionate tale of love, jealousy, betrayal and murder, filled with double crosses and grand gestures. It’s played out in a lavish baroque chapel, a palace interior and the castle rooftop from which Tosca leaps to her death. There are three really memorable arias, and a lot of good music that links the plot together. But this is primarily a bombastic melodrama set to a fine soundtrack.

Conversely, I now realise that Piers’ priority list is music first, by a long shot, then plot and production in a distant tie behind. He would be quite happy to lie in a darkened room and listen for three hours. In that situation, I’m afraid I’d be bored in 15 minutes. Call me a cretin, but music alone has never been enough stimulation for me.

Given these differing priorities, our preferences for German or Italian opera become clear. If I only had the soundtrack to listen to, I’d pick Wagner, too. His music provides consistently grand orchestration; a multi-layered symphonic work in which people happen to sing. But, simple creature that I am, I’m going for the big show.

While we continue on in our long running debate, the fact that we’re battling over such nuances is reassuring. Strip away the fine points and we arrive at the truth that we both love opera, and all the rituals of grand occasion that accompany it. Looks like that 98% compatability rating is still proving accurate.

Speaking of grand occasions … We popped into Clos Maggiore for their pre-theatre special before the main event. Just 50 yards down King Street from the northwest corner of Covent Garden market, this place is wonderfully located for the Opera, allowing you to go from paying your bill to sliding into your seat in less than 10 minutes.

The menu looks to Italy and Provence for inspiration, and offers a reasonably priced (£19.50 for two courses and half a bottle of wine) special before 6pm. Service is friendly and prompt, sensitive to the fact that everyone needs to dash for at 7pm.

Marketed as one of the most romantic restaurants in London, the highlight is the beautiful main dining area with a massive fireplace at the rear. It’s a small room, holding only eight tables, but a testimony to the decorative power of mirrors. Lined with them on three walls, which are then partially screened with columns and branches heavy with silk cherry blossoms, the space looks far bigger than its reality and is, indeed, a wonderfully romantic setting that sweeps your imagination to distant, southern holidays. Should you come here on a special date, however, specify that you want to be in the main room. There are few tables at the front of the ground floor, and another dining room upstairs. Both spaces are attractive but lack the special charm of that main room.

Does the food match the atmosphere? A good range of options, well presented and prepared. We both started with the ham hock and foie gras terrine, clearly a glamorous way to use up the leftover luxury from the a la carte menu. Excellent, but could have used double the accompanying fig jam to balance the richness of the meat. Shared taste reigned again for the main, as we both went for the pork chop. Fully satisfied, there was no need for pudding. A couple of coffees, served with a few chocolates, and we were good to go.

The drinks here are clearly where they’re making the profit margin on the value-priced set menu. Our gin and tonics before dinner and coffee after almost doubled the bill. Still, a good experience and a place I’d recommend before any opera … German or Italian.