New look: the softly lit dining room serves a delicate, often changing tasting menu
(Picture: Matt Writtle)Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind a way to fend off my sentimental feelings, given I find them impossibly persuasive. They strong-arm me into all sorts of scrapes, romantic and otherwise, and recently took me to Brett Graham’s Ledbury after news of its reopening had me dewy-eyed, remembering one of The Great Lunches there, four years ago. Food and service were faultless; the bill was horrendous. Luckily I let my friends pay, which has long been my top tip for enjoying oneself.
“Pricey but near perfect” was the reputation the place cultivated on opening in 2005. By 2010 it had a pair of Michelin stars and come 2011, a reputation for its fighting spirit — literally. That year rioters smashed their way in, so a chef picked up his rolling pin and made a stand. And then no-one messed with the Ledbury until Core by Clare Smyth opened around the corner six years later and committed larceny with the limelight.
