The newest Ivy requires the same mindset as you need to watch a Jason Statham film: thinking is not going to help. Just enjoy the spectacle
Sometimes a restaurant is so ridiculous that I phone my editor before I’ve even opened the menu, demanding he clears space because all the words babbling behind my eyes need to flood somewhere. “The Ivy Asia’s got a candyfloss-pink glass stairway. And lifesized models of samurai warriors by the urinals in the gents,” I rock and gibber. “And you can eat sashimi in black garlic and yuzu foam while overlooking St Paul’s Cathedral. And they have a pudding with chocolate soil and samurai horns made out of biscuit!”
“But isn’t it just another branch of The Ivy,” the editor says, “of which there are now at least 30?”
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