We’ve been conned by The Ivy hype. Let’s have more respect for ourselves
People often say there is no more haunting short story than the popularly-misattributed “for sale, baby shoes, never worn”, but I can do you one better, with two words to spare: “how about The Ivy?”
I am uncertain as to how this regrettable establishment came to have the chokehold on our fair isle that it does, but in recent years the gaudy shepherd’s pie slinger has come to plague both my personal and professional life.
You cannot go a week without seeing an Instagram post of its velour banquettes occupied by the celebration of some millennial milestone, while an unimaginative invitation to lunch is never far from the top of a journalist’s inbox.
My hatred for the chain – and let me be clear, I hate The Ivy – comes not solely from its overpriced food, which can’t be described as bad, per se, but the mystique it has somehow crafted for itself.
People across the nation have been tricked into believing that particular shade of green awning offers an insight to the lives we can’t afford and the connections we’ll never have.
But what cultural cachet can really be held by something that offers a loyalty app?
The once iconic institution, built on a reputation of eating with the stars, has bloated into a 41-venue chain of mediocrity (not counting its eight Asia iterations), replete with £30 Sunday roasts and tables filled with advertising industry girlfriends and KPMG boyfriends on their way to a Soho House afterwards.
For £6.95 they’ll offer you “potatoes, chipped” (chips), while chicken and couscous will set you back £27.50. Their arancini (£7.95) is pointlessly stuffed with truffle cheese; their ostentatious £32 fish pie is thrown off-balance by lobster and scallops. Caviar, for some reason, is also available.
Want a beer? £7.50 for a bottle of Meantime, please.
If you’re really after a chain “brasserie”, there’s bound to be a Bill’s or a Café Rouge down the road offering the same food for half the price. If you need that loyalty scheme, why not TGI Fridays or Pizza Express? If it’s almost £20 burgers that swing it for you, try a lifeless pub chain – they’ll even pretend it’s “wagyu”.
For those who really are set on spending the kind of money demanded at The Ivy, the options are… basically any other restaurant, so long as it doesn’t have a man dribbling salt down his arm.
The Ivy is well on its way to infiltrating every city and town of the UK, but we can have more respect for ourselves than that. Wherever those gilt letters appear, I guarantee you there is a better dining experience on offer.
I hate to admit I am jealous of owner Richard Caring, but while he is about to liberate himself of the business, I will probably find myself wielding that uninspiring menu again before Christmas.
If you do spot me at one of its tables, dead behind the eyes, please know it’s under duress.