They say that lunch is the inferior meal of fine dining. Then again, “they” are usually the same SMH’ers that throw shade on British food, and once again they are wrong. Though The Ledbury may be more casual by day, their flavors are anything but.
I often enjoy the amuse bouches even more than the apps. I love the sneak preview of all that is to come, and the momentary mouthful allows a glimpse into the fleeting whims of a beautiful mind.
If these amuse bouches are any indication, this meal is going to change my life. Our first is an seaweed crisp with a dollop of Smoked Mussel Cream. The mussel sits heavy like a thick dewdrop of pate, with a texture that washes over like waves of silk. The smoke infuses the senses, a smoldering coal from deep within.
Next is a Guinea Fowl Pate Puff, airy pastry layered like centuries of sandstone, housing a bold burst of liver cream. The final, not-photographed delight features a succulent crab paste with tiny shrimp that pack a punch both sweet and powerful.
Even bread is unforgettable. This Sourdough uses a bold starter, and there is that fermented flavor that finishes with a tang. A soothing goat whey is dotted with molasses, a dashing concoction that gives it a perky boost.
The Fresh Hazelnuts starts like a mere salad, but it sneaks into a whole new memory. The noisettes make their expectedly nutty noise, highlighted by summer peaches and green beans that blow me away. I truly do not know what they doing to their beans here, but London has the best green beans in the world. I’ve never enjoyed green beans like I have in London, and I doubt I ever will. This salad smells and tastes of sunkissed summer, touched by dew, and buried within the warmth, there are glimpses of savor as duck liver gratings peek through.
The Veal Tartare is a primal pile. The taste is so pure, so raw. The fine bits of baby beef have amped up their game, and the rich sauce awakens something wild.
The silky roasted artichoke is just divine, a tangy finish that takes a dip in a mozzarella lake. As if the tartare isn’t already a crazy dream, a side of beef fat becomes one with a crusty chunk of toast.
I can barely bring myself to cut into the Native Lobster. Its beauty is too much to mar, and I grow concerned when I see the thick scales of shiitake on top. I fear the assertive fungi will overexert their influence over the fragile flavors of lobster. But this combination doesn’t sink; it swims in a lake of lemon velvet, and the shiitake adds balance to a smooth-sailing lobster sea.
The Belted Galloway Beef is a risk worth taking. It is a dish for two so we can’t hedge our bets on separate entrees. It’s my best gamble yet, and the payoff is huge. I may never know a risk more worth taking. The tender cut of filet bleeds bright blood into layers of onion seared tender, and a coin of bone marrow buys another complex layer of melting bliss. Yet the unyielding, unforgiving, easy-to-bland, quick-to-dry cube of short rib becomes the highlight of the dish, of the meal, perhaps of my entire time in London. This preparation highlights and solidifies the rich marbling of fat, as it weaves a web through every glistening crevice of meat. Each bite shreds under the mere flick of a fork.
Pre-dessert preps the palate with a cleansing Passion Fruit Mousse. The dairy is made bold and bright by a more tangy fruit, and it re-awakens the sleepy sugar taste buds, previously overwhelmed by the intensity of the short rib.
A lightly-fried Donut completes the cleanse. A light shell houses a doughy middle that flicks off sugar sprites as you bite.
The real dessert follows, first this work-of-art Raspberry Tart in light-catching crimson and gold. Raspberries release their juice into a light cream and a crunchy crust, playing peekaboo with scoops of dense sorbet.
The Brown Sugar Tart is a sugar-crust on a block of roasted sugar. This custard is smooth with a breeze of burnt, and it meshes with the bitter finish of ginger ice cream. It’s a colder shock, the ice cream, a dash of breezy, spicy burn to counter all that sugar and cream. The line of sweet grapes add a juicy, jammy accent to finish the flavors off.
Post-desserts come quick, right when we feel too full to move. The Juniper Caramel Stick is crisp and refreshing, a digestif that tastes like a sappy tree with floaty notes of pine.
There are also Chocolate Truffles, not uncommon and not unexpected, but the creamy center is expectedly divine.
If this is lunch, I MUST return for dinner. The Ledbury is among the best meals I’ve had in London, and it ranks among my top ten ever. The creativity is astounding, and its execution is exquisite and unparalleled. The Ledbury is in a league of its own, a unique experience I will not soon forget.
