Such a Dish #18: Lyle's, Shoreditch
I was almost worried that a group of Borrowers might steal the starter.
I sort of don’t but sort of do care that I’ve discovered two of my favourite restaurants are owned by a capitalist machine. I will tell you that I’ve gone down a MASSIVE stalk-your-ex-style rabbit hole of researching the scale of the operation. Is it important that a restaurant feels independent? I suppose it sort of does to me.
One of my favourite restaurants in New York, Motel Morris, is owned by the people that live above it. As soon as I land in the US, it’s the first place I go. Well, New York. If I land in Chicago I don’t fly to New York to go to Motel Morris. That would be mad. Anyway, at Motel Morris I order the salt and vinegar dusted fries and a dirty vodka martini. They are a neighbourhood joint, their character is unique and consistent and it brings a charm that might be dissolved if it were part of a group or, salt-forbid, private equity.
Lyle’s, a you-will-eat-what-you’re-told-joint, is part of the JKS Restaurant group. JKS also own Gymkhana (Indian), Speedboat Bar (Thai), Brigadiers (Indian), Bao (Asian), Berenjak (Middle Eastern), and more. It’s almost Imperialism. Not only that but they own the Cadogan Arms and, my personal favourite: The George, on Great Portland Street - where they try to charge £75 for a steak for two for dinner. Those buffalo chicken bites though, worth a visit every time. And Nicola, their GM, what a wonderful human.
I have yet to go to Gymkhana but I sort of don’t want to, now that I know it’s part of this conglomerate. They have ~22 locations. Can you really master multiple cuisines across many cultures? Should you? Last night I went to Josephine Bouchon (which was good, it was lovely, not reviewable though) and Claude Bosi, its owner, runs Bibendum, Brooklands, and JB. All Modern European/French. He’s French. It’s his thing. It makes sense that he would proliferate. Gordon Ramsay, another king of cuisine diversification, just doesn’t do all the cuisines well. Lucky Cat? More like deeply unlucky Cat. Even his plane food sucks. I’m OK with not going to a GR restaurant. Unless it involves him shouting at me. That I can get on board with. Maybe someone can get me a Cameo of Gordon Ramsay shouting at me. Some Hell’s Kitchen level of shouting.
Fork in the road
Maybe though. Maybe I could change my mind. Because Lyle’s was amazing.
Though I’m not sure what it is. It has a Michelin star. And it was under £100/head without drinks. I went to Honey and Smoke Grill in Fitzrovia last week as I saw someone from the cast of Succession there and thought that might be a proxy for quality (it wasn’t) and it was £100 a head for a glass of wine and the set menu, which was maybe the worst thing to happen since JK Rowling decided to share her gender views with the world. So for £100/head for a Michelin star dinner, it’s pretty reasonable.
According to JKS, Lyle’s brings together an established network of farmers and fisherman with its highly seasonal, daily changing, pared back, modern British menu. What does that even mean? Is it the LinkedIn of British cuisine. Am I paying for the owner’s networking skills? You own 22 restaurants. Of course you have an established logistics team. What a load of nonsense.
It continues: Lyle’s is a clean, quiet, and serene space offering lunch and dinner. The minimal design of the space, flooded with natural light, makes the space feel pared back and unpretentious to reflect the restaurant’s same approach to food.
Flooded with natural light? Clean, quiet, and serene? First, it’s opposite Shoreditch High Street station. It ain’t clean. It ain’t quiet. It ain’t serene. Second, what is the opposite of flooded with natural light? A dark room? It literally makes no sense. This is why ChatGPT is going to win. Humans have no idea what they’re saying. It sounds like they’re advertising rehab.
Thankfully, despite their ego-laden self-description, they knock out some divine food. And that’s really why you should go. Don’t be put off by their marketing intern’s copy skills or the fact that they are essentially a multinational.
We had the…set menu. The only menu. The menu they told us to have. They had run out of oysters, so they gave us more asparagus. I think I’m quite ‘meh’ about oysters. I’m unclear on the value of something you put in your mouth and only taste very briefly before swallowing. Oysters have had an interesting history though. They were a delicacy for the wealthy during the Greek (13th-9th BCE) and Roman empires (8th BCE-5th AD) and then ‘peasant’s’ food and found on street corners in Britain. In fact, only when they started to be associated with being an aphrodisiac did the price start to rise and they became a luxury again.
The meal
We started with some very small plates. So small. Look how small the mackerel was:
Literally just bigger than my finger nail.
Between two people.
Talk about conglomerate margins. Talk about pared back. I was almost worried that a group of Borrowers might steal the starter.
Alongside the mini-mackerel was a breaded slice of tomato. OK, actually, the more I type this the more incredulous it sounds. Mini-mackerel, a slice of tomato, one asparagus spear. £100 is actually thievery. What, are we paying for bites of food now?
The issue is. They were delicious. They tasted like salt and pepper kettle chips wrapped tomatoes, with the most delightful crunch. It was call-the-waiter-over level of delicious-ness.
Another highlight was this amazing SLICE of cod surrounded with lovely herbs and a lobster sauce. Rich but not too indulgent, meaty but not chewy and in a garden of freshness. It tasted like the ingredients came from the garden in the back.
The main event though were the petit-fours. Brown-butter cakes.
Oh my god. If we hadn’t had the brown butter cakes, I wouldn’t have written this review. As a treat, the kind waiter even gave us the recipe for the cake. That’s probably worth the £100 alone. Now I just gotta find someone who can re-make them for me.
On reflection, it didn’t feel like it was one of many in a group. It felt like it was a lovely British spot in the middle of East London. But when you look closely, you see a £100 a head dinner for super small portions within a reduce-the-unit-economics machine. But I’d go back, those brown butter cakes…