25 Oct 2023
In the five and a bit years since The Ivy opened in St Albans, the brasserie has secured itself a comfortable niche among the independents and other chain restaurants which populate the city.
Its cross-generational appeal stems from the simple truth that you are almost certain to have a good time there. From the atmosphere to the service, the food to the drinks, there are unlikely to be any surprises in store, merely an expectation of quality and the highest of standards.
Even on a wet Wednesday evening in October, the place was positively buzzing, packed almost to capacity with couples of all ages, family gatherings and groups of friends, but this did not seem like a challenge to the serving staff, who fluttered between tables taking orders and checking customers’ needs. That may sound obvious, but how often have you gone out for a meal and found yourself experiencing an inexorable wait for your server to pay you any attention?
Although there is standard fare available all year round on The Ivy menu, they pride themselves on rotating seasonal specials into the mix, with the autumn options now included.
I always think a restaurant lives and dies by its soup, which led me to opt for the white onion and truffle variety, poured with much ceremony over caramelised onion, artichoke purée, truffle mascarpone and artichoke crisps.
With layers of taste as well as texture, it was smooth, sweet and earthy, the soft onion adding a gentle bite to every mouthful. A hint of heat might have enlivened it a bit more, but that’s personal preference, and far from a criticism of what was an exceptional starter.
My partner’s plate was simplicity itself. Paper thin slices of smoked salmon in abundance, accompanied by dark and nutty rye bread, a copious serving of butter, and a sprinkling of lemon and black pepper.
The fish was fresh and light, almost falling apart on the fork, while the dense bread and rich butter proved a perfect complement, the whole dish recalling fond memories of Christmas dinners where smoked salmon opened the proceedings.
To accompany our meal, we chose the house red – recently changed to an Italian Montepulciano – a very soft, fruity and approachable wine, with notes of red cherry and blackcurrant giving it a rustic taste which echoed the autumn flavours of our food.
Several years ago, while writing a feature on substances which trigger sugar highs, I discovered to my shock that mashed potato sent my levels skyrocketing, and haven’t touched the stuff since.
But everything in moderation, or so they say, so I apologised in advance to my pancreas and ordered the Cherry Orchard pork and truffle sausages, accompanied by pommes aligot (mash to you and me!), with grated truffle, crispy shallots, watercress and red wine sauce.
That’s a lot of truffle in one mealtime.
I half expected the sausages to be dense and filling, making it impossible to finish all three, but in contrast they went down an absolute treat, being hearty and meaty instead of rich and fatty.
The mash! Oh the mash! How I’ve missed its cloud-like consistency! Far from the stodge served in many a school canteen, it was almost ethereally fluffy and light, with the sauce and other touches bringing the various elements together on the plate to create a dynamic whole.
My partner’s main was another autumnal option, being lemon sole on the bone, beurre noisette with lemon, caper and parsley, which she had with sprouting broccoli served with lemon oil and sea salt.
A very generous serving, the fish was cooked to perfection and slid effortlessly off the bone, albeit the quantity of butter sauce accompanying it – while possibly to some people’s tastes – was just a bit too much for her liking. Comme ci, comme cá however, as it really is just a matter of taste.
It must have been a night for pushing out the boat as contrary to form I bowed to pressure and decided to order dessert. I then endured what seemed like an endless wait for the apple tart, but was actually probably about 12 minutes. They do warn you that there will be delay in serving this particular dish, but when it came it was more than worth it.
Thinly sliced, lightly spiced apple tart, covered with caramelised sugar, served with simple vanilla ice cream and flambéed with Calvados, it pretty much encapsulated the autumn feel the rest of the menu had touched on. Think log fires, crunchy leaves and long walks to warm country pubs and you’re part of the way there.
Of course it goes without saying that the cookery was excellent throughout our meal, but credit must also be given to our server, Andrew, who was attentive, informed and patient. Even the chaotic presence of our three-year-old horror did little to deter him, and he deftly delivered plates around her collection of Disney princesses strewn across the table as if it was something that happened every day of the week.
You’ll never “drop in” to The Ivy. Not only is it booked up well in advance but visiting should always be a special occasion with plenty of preparation and ample anticipation. So take the time to plan an evening there, or even a sitting earlier in the day, and bask in the experience. It is unlikely to disappoint.
