All that said, the perks are nice. Just realise that perks are only the tip of a large and difficult iceberg, and you have to do a lot of boring back-office stuff before you get to put the icing on the proverbial cake. (Sorry about two metaphors in one sentence. I'm in PR. I can't help it.)
Those excuses made, let's talk about some of London's finest restaurants. This week I had the good fortune to be at two of the city's Top 10 on two consecutive days. The first is the one everyone's heard of; the second the one everyone should know. You're not going to get out of either without spending at least £35 for two courses with non-alchoholic beverages. But you're more likely to be ordering a bottle of wine and dropping £60 per person or more. If the prices worry you, don't go. The stress will spoil your digestion.
"British business is booming; the consequence is a culinary golden age."
I doubt that's a problem for the majority of the lunch crowd at either of these places: I'm sure 90% of the bills were going to end up on expense accounts. If you want an answer to London's surge in fine dining, look no further. This town lives on business deals, and deals are still shaped over lunch. The more successful and prosperous the business community, the more demanding the palates. British business is booming; the consequence is a culinary golden age.
The Ivy is the classic choice for media and theatrical types. Located in the centre of the theatre district, it's famous for attracting the famous. Say you've dined at The Ivy and the first question you're likely to hear is not "How was the food?", but "Who did you see?"
(Nobody I recognised, but I don't read enough gossip mags to be a good celeb spotter.) The service is impeccable and the atmosphere memorable without being overpowering; both essential for a good business lunch.
Ironically, I always find the decor of this supposedly "classic British" restaurant to be disconcertingly American. Dark wood panelling,
diamond-paned windows of coloured glass, black and white photos of great film stars of the past. It's redolent of those high end, classic restaurants in big American cities that were founded after the war, became the choice of high society in the 50s and have been preserved in aspic ever since. A bit like being in the dining room at the Missouri Athletic Club, with better food and a younger, trendier crowd.The menu, if you haven't been here, may be disconcerting as well. Strikingly simple, there's not much here beyond what might show up on a Sunday lunch table at home. Soups, roasts, grilled fish, homey desserts. Don't go to The Ivy expecting innovation; this is classic comfort food at its apogee.
Yes, the food is fantastic. I started with a crab bisque that was a model of the genre. Balanced and distinct flavours, obviously fresh crab, served piping hot. The bluefin tuna loin that followed was cooked simply but to perfection, with exactly the ratio of cooked outside and rare middle that this fish should have. That came on a bed of lentils prepared with sweet red onions; a brilliant counterpoint. We skipped desert but I will give a nod to The Ivy's famous sticky toffee pudding, which I've had on previous occasions. (Although, oddly, I think you get a better result when you use their recipe and do it yourself at hom
e.)On to the Bleeding Heart. You've only moved a couple of miles across town, but in atmosphere and experience you've just crossed the channel. The Bleeding Heart is French. Not stuffy, overbearing, Parisian French of stereotype, but the real experience you get with the locals in a country that's deadly serious about its food. Every waiter is French, the menu and decor staunchly gallic, the cheese trolley a gastronomic map of the country. If it weren't for the portrait of Charles Dickens (he mentioned the location in his novels), you'd swear you'd been through passport control on your way here.
The menu, though traditional, offers far more variety than The Ivy. It also offers daily specials, focusing on what's in season. The presentation of the food is exquisite; creative and beautiful without crossing the line into absurdity. ("Too much" would be when your food starts to look more like an architectural model than lunch.)
"Too much" would be when your food starts to look more like an architectural model than lunch.I started with a tart of fresh spring vegetables and goats cheese. I thought I knew what to expect. I was completely wrong, and delighted to be so. The tart casing was philo-style dough, moulded into a sinuous-sided, shallow bowl. Exploding from this, artful as a miniature flower arrangement, was a profusion of whole baby vegetables anchored by the bed of goat's cheese. The chef had managed to get all the vegetables to that perfect state where they were cooked just enough, but retained the crisp bite freshness. From there I abandoned light eating and chose venison in a chocolate sauce with creamed cabbage. The venison was perfectly cooked and the sauce (savoury, not sweet, as in Mexican mole) a creative and unexpected match that still carried the contrast you get with the fruit sauces that traditionally go with venison. In for a penny, in for the proverbial pound, I gave in to the temptation of the cheese trolley. The only improvement needed was a glass of port. But my guest wasn't drinking, so neither was I.
Avoiding alcohol brought lunch for three in at £120. At The Ivy I was guest rather than host so didn't see the bill, but from my view of the menu I'd say that both restaurants are about the same, with the Bleeding Heart perhaps being marginally less expensive. The latter is certainly, in my opinion, better value for money.
If you're in London on expense account, try either. If you're spending your own cash, bypass the temple of the famous and go to the church of the gastronome instead.
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