Lilibet’s: A Reminder That Mayfair Still Knows How to Do Things Properly

Review at a glance: ★★★★☆

I think it would be fair to say that in recent years there has been a sharp rise in immersive dining around Berkeley Square, and not necessarily for the greater good of the area. Light shows, exclusive basement bars and bottle service have slowly replaced the things that actually matter: food cooked properly and staff who know what they’re talking about. Which is why my trip to Lilibet’s this weekend left me walking out with a smile.

For anyone who grew up playing sports, this is what it looks like when the basics are done right.

Walking into Lilibet’s feels like stepping into a world of opulence and organised madness. No two tables look the same. One might be separated by an enormous ruby-red statement chair, another by a cushion embroidered within an inch of its life. Nothing is uniform, yet somehow it all works together in a way that feels intentional rather than chaotic, like a home belonging to someone with impeccable taste and absolutely no interest in minimalism.

Sitting down, my friend and I opened the menu and immediately realised we were in trouble. More than ten sections, everything from salads to oysters to a wood grill oven. We could have easily over-ordered, and in true fashion, we very nearly did. A quick chat with our server helped rein it all in.

Here’s the thing: one of my favourite parts of eating out is being treated well. I don’t care how over-the-top that sounds. If I’m dining in one of the most exclusive postcodes in the country, quite possibly the world, there is a certain standard that should come with that. Thankfully, Lilibet’s gets it.

Two early-thirties male professionals probably isn’t the most traditional Lilibet’s clientele (maybe I still think I’m younger than I am), but nothing about the experience made us feel out of place. A slight wobble in the table? Fixed instantly. A leaf drifting into a freshly poured martini? Replaced without hesitation. It was the kind of hospitality I remember London being known for before theatrics replaced warmth.

And importantly, none of it came with even a hint of patronising energy. When you don’t fit the “usual” diner profile, it’s funny how quickly your table can be rushed along. Here, we were allowed to linger.

By the time our first dishes arrived, I could have eaten anything. Not because the service was slow, but because I had deliberately refused to eat earlier in anticipation. The anchovy eclair (£6.2) and crab tart (£4.7) were the perfect openers: bite-sized, full of flavour and beautifully presented. The anchovy was subtly salty, reminiscent of taramasalata, and the crab tasted incredibly fresh for something so small.

Next came the ricotta agnolotti (£26.3 for seven pieces). The lemon ricotta was bright without overwhelming the pasta, which was cooked ben cotta, exactly how I like it. And a tip: say yes when they ask if you want black pepper. You’ll be treated to the sight of a pepper grinder so oversized it borders on theatrical. Seeing my friend laugh at a grinder nearly half the size of our waiter is an image I’ll never forget.

While I knew exactly where I was, there were moments during this meal where I genuinely questioned whether I had inherited a small portion of the Queen’s wealth. My salary cannot endure this sort of evening frequently.

So with that in mind: “another round of martinis, please.”

For our main, we shared the whole Dover sole (£54.6) with French fries (£7.2) and Lilibet’s mash (£14.7). The fries were… fries. Thin, crisp, perfectly fine, though I’m still not sure why they arrived with a pot of Caesar dressing. Perhaps that’s how the royals do it.

But the mash. I will dream about this mash. Silky smooth, topped with thick chunks of lobster, all bathing in a bowl of shellfish bisque. A dish I would come back for alone.

The Dover sole arrived simply, filleted at the table with quiet confidence. Proof that not all great food needs theatrics. The fish was light, delicate and perfectly complemented by the café de Paris butter that will elevate almost anything it touches.

We should have stopped there, but of course we didn’t. Dessert was a chocolate mousse layered with cacao nibs and sealed under a crisp chocolate shell. Rich but surprisingly light, though the nibs were slightly overpowering for someone who doesn’t lean towards darker chocolate.

Lilibet’s is proof that there is still hope for the Mayfair dining scene. I’m hoping, like many others, that this classic approach to food and service continues for a long time.

Lilibet’s – ★★★★☆
17 Bruton St, London W1J 6QB
Opening Hours: Lunch – Wednesday to Saturday – 12-2:30pm, Dinner – Tuesday to Saturday – 5.30-11pm

Our Rating Guide

★☆☆☆☆ – Poor / Satisfactory

★★☆☆☆ – Good

★★★☆☆ – Very Good

★★★★☆ – Excellent

★★★★★ – Extraordinary