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Daydream a textbook City brasserie and 1 Lombard Street is exactly what’ll come to mind. Looks-wise, it’s pretty fancy: the sprawling dining room dominated by a central glass cupola, the walls strewn with dodgy art. The food, too – as you’d hope at these prices – was decent, from the chewy sourdough boule that opened proceedings to the booze-wafting rum baba that ended them.
The starters were slickest, especially a decent crab linguine generously strewn with white meat (if a bit indelicate with the parmesan). Mains were punchier: plates of deftly cooked duck breast with grilled figs and griddled calf’s liver – the kind of heavily salted and stickily jus-drenched classics that wrench you awake for pints of water at 3am.
We’re under no illusions about the key demographic here. Being unsuited, we felt, bizarrely, like we were actually being downsold on the menu at times. Still, while 1 Lombard Street might be stubbornly unadventurous – I’ve eaten all this stuff umpteen times before and will continue to do so until gout and/or death – there are far worse places to drop a ton on dinner.