Intelligent, charming man: Andew Edmunds
(Picture: Danny Elwes)It is perhaps not such a surprise that news of the restaurateur, club owner and art dealer Andrew Edmunds dying has prompted so many shared memories, from so many Londoners.
His eponymous Soho restaurant, which has served its simple, warming cooking on Lexington Street for some 37 years, has long been a favourite of restaurant writers, the fashion set, and anyone after a cosy meal with someone they fancy. A regular frequenter of “London’s most romantic restaurants” lists, the small, cramped and candlelit space is known as somewhere to hide away in, somewhere to unravel and where affairs might begin. Its menu — British and French in a way, charmingly pared back — is a draw, but the place remains best known for its extraordinary wine list, made even more extraordinary for being so reasonable. Others go for the familiarity of its interior, which has rarely seen much of an update: the floor is dark-stained wood, the wallpaper still has woodchip in it. Tables have white cloths, crockery is simple. It is the Soho ideal of a bistro.
It is telling that, writing in the Standard in 2017, Fay Maschler’s description of the place nodded to a write-up printed some 20-or-so years earlier, a testament to its unchanging character. Maschler wrote: “Cooking keeps pace with the evolving way we like to eat but is never egregiously clever-clogs. The drinks list, plus extra bottles on the blackboard, continues to delight and demand exploration.
“There isn’t a better description than that by Bruce Yardley in my Evening Standard restaurant guide of 1996: ‘a bizarre assortment which looks as if picked up at auction following the death of a rich crank, with surprisingly grand bottles available at bargain prices’. And that’s still true.”
Having founded his art dealership in 1974, Edmunds bought his pair of 18th century Soho buildings in the early Eighties, when Soho was well and truly in its crapulent heyday — and when the accompanying rundown of the area meant property was cheap. On one side he opened a print shop, selling cartoons from the 1700s, and on the other, his restaurant. It has long been called “a bastion of old Soho”, what now might be taken to mean it is a clattering place for long lunches and evening meals that last until closing. A glorious feeling of it being out of time — which is to say, in Andrew Edmunds, it’s 1985 forever, without that being a conscious pose or twee throwback — means dining in the ground floor or in the basement feel like a living Jeffrey Bernard column, albeit with less vodka and bitchiness, or, as restaurant critic Marina O’Loughlin put it: “The whole thing makes you feel as if you’re starring in a novel by Keith Waterhouse or hanging out with George Melly.”
Upstairs is the Academy Club, set up by Auberon Waugh and still going today; still literary and journalistic-leaning, it is said to be a distillation of downstairs. The entire place has long filled with those who favour long, laughing chats and always order an extra bottle to keep things going.
Edmunds’ death was confirmed on the restaurant’s website yesterday and across its social media channels, with a notice confirming that he had passed away aged 79, reportedly after a short illness. Edmunds — who was described by Tim Lord, the chair of the Soho Society, as “a discreet but enormously intelligent and thoughtful man who loved Soho and understood its history and heritage better than most” — was known to be publicity shy.
That his restaurant has so many well-known fans, and that Edmunds himself is spoken of so warmly, is testament to the way his restaurant was run. Former Evening Standard diary editor Joy Lo Dico wrote on Twitter: “He brought together London’s writers, artists and dealers, and notable waifs and strays into the club and, helped along by the fine wines he served, many a deep friendship was born. Andrew appreciated both beauty and the bacchanale. He passed away on the weekend.”
Lo Dico’s tribute was one of many online. The journalist Dr Bendor Grosvenor wrote: “He knew everything there was to know about British printmaking. He was the sort of person who always made you feel better if ever you saw him, even if it was just a random chat in a Soho street.” Former Vogue editor Alexandra Shulman tweeted: “On an already sad day just learnt about the death of Andrew Edmunds. His restaurant was one of my treasured spots for so long.”
The restaurant will “of course” remain open, a spokesperson told the Standard this morning. “Through thick or thin, Andrew would never want the restaurant to close. We will remain open as he intended.” May it stay much as it ever did.
