Lasdun, on the South Bank in London and named after the architect Denys Lasdun, is a hugely welcome addition to this particular tourist patch, even before a pan had been picked up or a menu written. That’s because it’s a new restaurant by the people behind the much-loved Marksman, a Hackney gastropub that’s been offering thoughtful, hearty cooking and fine ingredients since 2015, and has become shorthand for “dependably good”.
Not much on the South Bank has the benefit of this kind of reputation. Yes, the strip between Waterloo Bridge and Tower Bridge is replete with restaurants, and there is food everywhere, yet there’s not a jot you really want to eat. The area is a sea of Las Iguanas, Strada, Côte, Giraffe and about 25 other chains all seemingly with the sole purpose of being convenient places to meet, and serving airport food with such a dearth of love and attention that it is barely eating at all – rather simply something to consume while sitting down.
But at Lasdun, Jon Rotheram and Tom Harris, recently joined by John Ogier, previously of Lyle’s and Flor, are offering guinea fowl and Tamworth terrine with burnt pear, Hereford sirloin with ox tongue and Tropea onions, as well as vast, Desperate Dan-style sharing pies filled with chicken, wild garlic and leek or, for vegetarians, celeriac, leek and Wigmore cheese, and for which the Marksman is so rightly lauded. Oh, and the brown butter and honey custard tartlet that’s so popular in their original home that customers reserve slices when ordering their main courses, causing wildly territorial scenes.
Opening a restaurant in a place such as this, or indeed in any large, established gallery, arts centre or department store, is never easy, and these marriages can befuddle even the most skilled of restaurateurs. Many of their customers feel that they know what the space is, so the tapestry is pretty much already woven. The restaurant then often ends up as a barely tolerated interloper trying to stamp its personality on some roped-off part of the foyer, roof garden or long-deserted cafe site. At Lasdun, however, they also have to contend with the fact that the National Theatre is vast, dramatically dark, multi-floored and has largely useless signage so you can never find anything. It’s also staffed by mostly uninterested ushers who don’t seem to care whether or not you find Lasdun; it’s not their job.
After roaming the building for some time, and feeling very much like David St Hubbins from Spinal Tap lost backstage in Cleveland, I located lunch just as I’d almost given up hope. A rather beautiful, grand room with dark wood floors and formal tablecloths presented itself, and the familiar clanking of lunch was in full swing. There is no passing trade at Lasdun, plus you need a compass, a working knowledge of all the entrances in the entire area, the tenacity to beat the sourpusses at security who tell you that “the brasserie is closed”, as well as the willpower to make it past the excellent gift shop without blowing £50 on postmodern poetry anthologies and a jar of National Theatre honey.
I highly recommend making the effort, though. In fact, if I were meeting anyone on the South Bank, I would not book anywhere else, because this is careful, ornate, modern British cooking that leans on the likes of Cornish pollock, Barnsley chops, London Cure smoked salmon and Jersey Royals, with buttery sauces and the general vibe of a mother trying to feed you up on a visit home.
Devilled eggs topped with salty fish roe spill their mustardy mayo innards down your shirt. There’s black treacle sourdough and homemade crisps. A pile of rare grilled lamb chops comes on a nicely seasoned puddle of anchovy-heavy tomato sauce with olives. A whopping chunk of cod with a crisp brown skin sits in a buttery, brown-shrimp-and-cucumber sauce. For vegetarians, there is fragrant, braised barley on king oyster mushrooms with saffron. Tamworth pork shoulder with spring greens was on the menu the day we went, too.
We resisted the hand-cut chips and the wild garlic butter-drenched jersey royals, and opted instead for a side of bibb lettuce dressed in buttermilk, which felt more fitting for a hot summer’s day and was very welcome, too, not least because a lot of the menu seems more suited for eating by a cosy winter hearth, rather than in 30-degree heat. Still, we somehow managed to linger for a full three hours, dissecting life, as did many other tables, because once you’re inside Lasdun, it feels as if you’ve left the actual world and have entered a place within a place within another place where no one can find you, so let’s just order the dark chocolate cream – think souped-up, fancy mousse – with buckwheat parfait, sherry caramel and chocolate crumb.
While we’re at it, it would be rude not to order that honey tart, too, because the National Theatre bees on the top of the building worked hard to make it. The cheeseboard is all-British, featuring the likes of Cornish Yarg and Little Rollright with celery jam and oatcakes. Lasdun is by far the best place to eat on the South Bank, which sounds like I’m damning it with faint praise, but book a spot regardless.
Lasdun National Theatre, Upper Ground, South Bank, London SE1, lasdunrestaurant.com. Open lunch Weds and Sat only, noon-3pm; dinner Mon-Sat, 5-11pm. About £60 a head à la carte; set pre-theatre menu £32 for two courses, £38 for three, all plus drinks and service.
