Review at a glance: ★★★★☆
Metaphors emerge in the unlikeliest of places. One presented itself in an Uber last week when a headstrong driver ignored the obvious route between Northwick Park Hospital and our flat and instead burrowed Brent’s backstreets on a circuitous tour of potholes. I felt like I’d been chauffeured home in a cocktail shaker. That’s life, I thought: a zigzag in the back of a cab driven by a madman.
The taxi ride was not last week’s biggest bump in the road. On Saturday, four weeks out from our wedding, Twiggy cracked her jaw in half. Doctors pinned plates into her cheek and chin and wheeled her back to the ward with her eyes peering out behind huge swollen cheeks. Sure, just a broken bone. But it’s not like doing your ribs. And it’s not ideal timing.
I rather like nursing duty: cooking and cleaning, lining up the pills, washing hair and that. But at some point lunch was contractually obligated. In a fit of unprofessionalism, I canned plans to try the hot new thing and took myself for a steak, reasoning that one of the functions of restaurants is to comfort; the shot of brandy after a shock.
Lutyens it was, then. The restaurant owes its lack of reputation to bad timing. When The Ned opened in April 2017 with its all-singing, all-dancing PR push, Lutyens was for members only, mentioned only in passing. Joe Public would have to put up with the other nine or so bars and restaurants — so they did. By the time bosses realised their mistake, just before Christmas that year, it was too late. The circus of publicity was touring elsewhere and Lutyens went unloved. Well, ignored.
Lutyens has quietly become something of a secret weapon in the City
Still, it has persevered and quietly become something of a secret weapon in the City. It draws all sorts: bank bosses with their prized clients; politicians escaping Westminster; gossiping pals needing privacy. It is strangely versatile, as good for a Friday date as a midweek parental lunch. Last week there was another solo diner, a Welshman on blinding form regaling a waiter with only quite-frightened eyes about a long-ago drug bust. “Details didn’t fit on the sheet, mind,” he said. “So I’ve a charge sheet that reads: ‘For possession of class A coc-.’”
A likely story. But there is something to be said for a restaurant that welcomes anyone and with a discreet smile indulges them all. Its looks help. The Ned was once the headquarters for Midland Bank and Lutyens, named for its knighted architect, was the bank manager’s office. An old storeroom this is not. It could have come from a Pall Mall club, the Titanic, a scene in Brideshead Revisited. The details are all there: the heavy wood-panelling, the dark flowered rug, the green leather, the waiters in their white jackets and bow-ties. On the table are silver salt and pepper cellars so heavy you half expect a note requesting you re-rack them.
Food and wine is just as it should be for a grill: unchallenging but of fine quality. A place for Montrachet with the salmon and Margaux with the rib-eye. Lutyens does not adventure far — burrata is about as exotic as it gets — but for those who seek these kinds of reassuring menus, it delivers expertly. It is certainly priced to reassure.
They do not skimp, though: bisque is loaded with lobster, including the prized claw, the meat fresh and springy. There is a beef Wellington here — practically legally-obliged in a grill — that comes reddish-pink with pastry as flaky as a failing friendship. Sirloin from an ex-dairy Irish Holstein/shorthorn cross, aged 50 days, came with its fat as crunchy as the bread’s crust, cooked to a perfect medium-rare and its flavour as intense as a good stock, with unexpected bone marrow on the side for wonderful gluttony. There are 15 types of steak to choose from, mostly from the UK but also from Australia, Japan, Spain. The US, if you really must.
It is not a challenging restaurant, Lutyens, nor particularly fashionable. But service is exceptional, food excellent, and the setting a beauty. As I cannot tolerate my own company, I almost never eat on my own. I did so happily here. I didn’t need a numbing martini. Feeling self-indulgent, I spread mash soaked in red wine jus onto the bread and realised that everything was going to be alright. Not a metaphor, true, but a lesson of some kind.
Meal for two about £240; thened.com
What you say
William Ho T.Y: “A truly brilliant restaurant with a focus on providing the best quality of food and a warmth of service one might not expect to find so easily at the centre of the City”
Mike Hickman “Dining in the old bank manager’s office at The Ned feels like stepping into history, only with much better steak.”
Piers Braybrooke “Just one of the best dining experiences I have had in London. Food was phenomenal, the service was attentive but not intrusive (thanks Alex), the ambiance was sumptuous and traditional but not stuffy.”
