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.
