The Ivy Bubble

Sitting in primark pyjamas, eating fried egg and field mushrooms on toast, I recalled a comment made last night about the beauty of the rose being also in the thorns, and not just the flower. There were both thorns and flowers last night, creating a fully-rounded - and very delightful - experience. But my thoughts led me to wonder if my evening at The Ivy could be called beautiful... given the worrying lack of thorns?

It should, perhaps, more accurately be called 'The Ivy Bubble'. From the moment the top-hatted doorman ushered us inside, (my heart jumping at the mere sight of the famous ivy stained glass!) we were encased in the kind of warm aura that I suspect is also known as 'money'. Someone took our coats, another person sat us down, a third swiftly concocted very fine gin and tonics, should we be parched from our walk to the table.

It gets no worse, so I will whisk you past the entirely charming waiting staff, who wouldn't let you sit down but that they pulled a table discretely aside, past the amount of sequins worn by celeb-spotters at the surrounding tables... and head straight for the food.

My duck and watercress salad was stickily, darkly dressed and be-sessame seeded. Rose had a prosciutto, fig and rocket salad, with provlone cheese - every bit as good as it sounds. I next had monkfish cheeks with chickpeas, chorizo and padron peppers. I don't really remember the padron peppers, they were lost on me but the monkfish cheeks were tasty nuggets, despite their slightly sinewy covering; the chorizo pulled the dish together and gave it a perfect amount of flavour. Rose had a beautiful tuna steak, with that lovely smoky, chargrilled flavour that should accompany such impressive black stripes: her only gripe was that she should have ordered it rare. It was still beautiful.

We drank Limoux Chardonnay (Chateau d'Antugnac 2007 France), recommended by the sommelier, a man I could easily take shopping with me, so user-friendly was he. To ensure we didn't go hungry we accompanied this feast with champ, parmesan-fried courgettes and buttered spinach. We finished with baked alaska, flamed at our table in the most satisfyingly extravagant manner, served with the most alcoholic cherries known to man, and a coffee. The Ivy bubble made everything feel like heaven.

I was a little surprised at how eclectic the menu was - I rather expected something more tightly selected. Instead, bang bang chicken sat next to kingfish sashimi and steak tartare. Rump of saltmarsh lamb nestled alongside the ivy hamburger and the ubiquitous thai green curry. 'Peas and heritage carrots with chervil' make it to my top 10 favourite poncy dishes. Heritage carrots!

I have the receipt as a memo of the food we ate, and the first item is two G&T's priced £15: as it was a birthday gift to me, I think my sister was the beneficiary of the 'thorn' of the evening! The rest really was all roses.

http://www.the-ivy.co.uk/