Having lunch at one of London's "old school" restaurants can be a bit of a hit and miss affair. A few years back and against the advise of may of our well intentioned friends, Julia and yours truly booked into 'Rules'. This restaurant is one of London's oldest dining establishments and makes claim to having the first every written menu.
In the event we had a great time and loved the atmosphere. As for the food, it was gamey, game here , game there, this joint just didn't deal to lettuce lovers and health food freaks.
Anyway, a few days back Julia said that in every second London based novel she has recently read, The Ivy inevitably got a mention and on that basis suggested we go and check it out.
The Ivy is actually a very interesting restaurant. It's been around forever and is one of the key lunch/dinner venues for celebrities, wannabes and their entourages.
I've actually dined there on a couple of previous occasions with my friend Colin, so when Julia asked me in advance what to expect in the way of food quality and atmosphere, my response was a little short on specifics other than to clarify that having lunch there would be a real experience.
Well, the lunch lived up to and exceeded our expectations.
Let's get the downside out of the way first.
The food. Frankly, I don't know how this establishment gets away with serving up such ordinary fare (whilst fleecing you for same as if you were downing gold dust).
You would probably get better food at a Little Chef roadside cafe on the M25.
But that's London diners for you, they will put up with all manner of crap as long as the vibe is right.
The drinks on the other hand were a completely different story. The wine guy obviously knows his onions and we were spoilt for choice. After a few drinks it didn't really matter what we were being invited to eat. However, I have to say that when our waiter asked us how we were enjoying our meal I was fast out of the blocks to confirm that we loved the wine. That waiter was no fool, he knew he was serving up food that was sub standard for such a prestigious eatery.
As for the clientele, they were simply brilliant. Lunching business men with very loud Eton trained voices, weirdly dressed guys with trophy women, very loud female groups dressed in bling and all braying at each other, Elvis Costello entertaining a buxom Bollie-guzzling blonde who by the looks of it had been the recent recipient of a small swimming pool of Botox (the woman simply wasn't in a physical position to smile even when she wanted to) and lots of show biz types. Our favourite star on display had to be Sandi Toksvig, a co-host on a number of televised antique quiz shows. This part time presenter, part time comedian is in her early fifties, on tip toes she measures about 5 ft and always dresses in very sensible boring country clothes. We call her 'Hurrumph' as she has a tendency to spit out Hurrumphy sounds when badgering contestants on the quiz shows. Sandi didn't let us down. The alcohol capacity of this oversized-dwarf was simply staggering. Over lunch she must have downed no less than half a dozen Campari and Sodas. We didn't actually see her leave the restaurant but it is almost a certain that she left on all fours. 'Hurrumph'. All the diners were going for it as if this was their last day on earth .
It's not hard to get caught up in this type of atmosphere and both Julia and myself who have a history " in the lack of self control department" well, we went with the flow.
I remember floating out of the front door late in the afternoon thinking to myself, what a great afternoon. Boy, are we going to pay for this tomorrow morning. And guess what?, we did.
Was it worth it?
Of course it was, we loved it.
Julia comment: I loved it. To all my girly friends, when you get the chance you must try this experience. If it's good enough for Eddie & Patsy then it's good enough for us. More Bollie darling?
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