‘Don’t fuck him, don’t fuck him, don’t fuck him.’ It is with this thought that I find myself sitting across the table from my date inside London’s Most Romantic Restaurant.
Andrew Edmunds is the establishment which has won this acclaim. It’s smaller, darker and cheaper than the Ivy, but still serves its food ‘on a bed of’ rather than merely next to its vegetables.
This is our Third Date - The Sex Date, which is probably why I feel the need to keep my knickers clamped on, and maybe why he thought he should bring out the big guns.
Every diner in this tiny French restaurant is a couple – they coo, oooh and ahhh over the food, feeding each other forkfuls of creamy goodness. You’ll either find it sickening, or, well, no it is sickening, but the food does make up for it.
The menu changes daily, which makes me talking about my duck breast feel a little redundant. Generally speaking it’s that old addage, 'good food done well.' There’s chicken and mushrooms if you don’t like you’re food too out there and snails and offal if you do.
The wine list is comprehensive and the service friendly, although they tend to leave you to it, lest they interrupt a moment of rampant footsie.
Food: 9/10
Service: 8/10
Cost: (He paid, I didn't put out)
Andrew Edmunds
Lexington Street
London, W1F 0LW
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