As first impressions go, The Lavery certainly has that nailed. Swing right out of South Kensington station and you’ll soon see a jade green flag, fluttering over the whitewashed portico of this elegant Georgian townhouse. The former residence of Irish painter Sir John Lavery has been tastefully modernised, but it remains an architectural marvel, with sky-high ceilings, sweeping, ornately-carved wooden bannisters, and towering windows that flood the space with natural light.
It’s a special space - one that in some ways isn’t ideally suited to a restaurant, but in other ways that’s half the fun. As a room to spend a couple of hours in, there aren’t many better. Those high ceilings combined with massive mirrors give the impression that the dining room is ginormous, and it feels alive with the chatter and clatter of conviviality. Simultaneously, it appears that all the food comes and goes via a single dumbwaiter, which is somewhat of a bottleneck when the room is full.
The food is a perfect match for the destination, with the classicism of the room proving a nice fit for Yohei Furuhashi’s minimal intervention, ingredient-first menus. There’s great joy to be had in tried-and-tested combinations that have always and will always just work, whether that’s a beautiful veal tartare with raw artichoke and ribbons of Parmesan, or salt cod, spooned onto grilled polenta and balanced, precariously, with fresh Iberiko tomatoes.
Furuhashi mostly lets top class ingredients speak for themselves, and the results are excellent. When there is some cooking to be done, the kitchen doesn’t falter - to debone, stuff and ballotine a rabbit leg this beautifully is no mean feat, and the accompanying lentils - from Castellucio, natch - relax gently into a pool of duck juices. Likewise, the pastry skills on show with a slice of loquat and hazelnut tart are elite. The only criticism you could level - aside from the pedestrian pace of the dumbwaiter - is that if you can grill a bit of polenta or source a good bit of veal fillet, you could whip up something in the same ballpark at home. But that’s missing the point isn’t it? You wouldn’t get to be here, sipping an elderflower Negroni in the old home of a celebrated Irish war artist. On pure vibes alone, The Lavery has us smitten.