Lilibet’s – Review

The recently deceased Queen Elizabeth II was born almost a century ago in her maternal grandparents’ Mayfair townhouse. Just off Berkeley Square, it was rumoured to have been blitzed during the Second World War but was actually torn down a decade beforehand and turned into offices and a retail complex. 17 Bruton Street’s ground floor has recently transformed into Lilibet’s, a lavish seafood restaurant which, whilst not exactly honouring the Queen, relishes its location’s historical importance and tips an affectionate wink in her direction. 

Stepping into the restaurant is a magical experience. The interior is like an AI generated celebratory version of an idealised past. Think lovingly decorated country house living room. Bright, colourful, unblemished by history’s dulling, the space is twee but playful, traditional but contemporary, homely but showy. Not a dull spot wherever the eye lands, the ceilings are elaborately corniced, the walls often flocked with decorative paper and hung with gilt-edged mirrors or ornithological studies.

Candles work with several high-hanging lanterns to combine romantic with atmospheric lighting. Impressively compartmentalised, a Barbie-type Orient Express carriage cocktail bar stretches perpendicular to the entrance while nearby Bavarian hotel-style booths nestle in the corner behind. A seafood counter stretches on the left for single or double diners, and a small handful of dining areas partially hide from each other behind mirrored pillars or ornamental shelving.

It’s the kind of place that demands you drink at least one glass of champagne upon arrival. Our Gosset Extra Brut does the trick nicely and our waitress unfolds our monogrammed napkins as an enticing fragrance wafts from the open kitchen. We peruse the extensive menu. Oysters? Caviar? Seafood platters? Snacks and breads? Small dishes and fried? Salads? Pasta and rice? Grilled seafood? Whole fish? Yep, got it all. Even some meat for your party’s contrarian guest. For the most adventurous, there’s an ‘Unsung Heroes’ section which offers ‘underappreciated species’ including sea urchin, sea cucumber, garfish and fluke. It’s all a bit overwhelming, but happily, the genial general manager, Nicolas, comes to our rescue and offers to choose for us.

First off, we’re offered three spectacular snack cum hors’d’oeuvres. The Tuna Loin Gilda provides a mini riot of texture and flavour with a one, two of crunch and punch to the pretty perfect tuna. Pickles, anchovy and a green peppercorn paste stack on a gold plated skewer for two mouthfuls of curious but rewarding nibble. The Crab Tart is marginally more traditional but still mixes grapefruit with a dollop of emerald coriander paste. The white crab meat is succulent and plentiful and the pastry crispy and delicate. The winner for sheer bravado and Blumenthal like topsy turviness is the Anchovy Eclair which, of course, looks like an impatient dessert pushing to the front of the dinner queue. It’s sweet ’n’ sour, salty and savoury, lovely and viscous, might be full of mascarpone, demands concentration but rewards it too. 

As well as ‘Unsung Heroes’, the most interesting items on the menu is the ‘Fish Triptych’ wherein the restaurant celebrates ‘the fish in 3 preparations.’ Nicolas explains that sustainability, sophistication, a desire to honour the fish as well as the sea, and a deliberate shying away from some of their more instagrammable plates all influence this unique presentation. Sea bass and sea bream feature on the menu but today gurnard’s in the house. 

Raw fillet with Dog sauce is nowhere near as unappetising as it sounds and is, in fact, pretty excellent. It could also be described as a kind poké or a ceviche. A large portion of white fish meat is topped with finely chopped herbs including coriander and parsley. The Dog sauce is a lemon infused but tangy and light olive oil which tingles on the lips. It’s all very pure, edifying and refreshing. Curling a little like a human backbone, the grilled fillet comes on a granite coloured frying pan with a length of Mojo Verde sauce and a grilled lemon. The fish is meaty and reminds of monkfish while the mojo verde reminds of olive tapenade. Once again, it’s a wholesome and edifying dish. We take some of Lilibet’s ‘signature’ mash which, in the subdued lighting looks like it’s topped with carrots but of course is nothing so pedestrian. Saffron suffuses the potato like edible gold flakes and the lobster is a pleasantly ostentatious, not to mention tasty surprise. 

The end of the triptych is an ‘A La Minute’ soup. Dished out by Nicolas from a china tureen, it’s just been pressure cooked for fifteen minutes, is surprisingly rich, has a subtle spice to it and a slight lobster bisque flavour. A small dish of chopped coriander is on hand to sprinkle, should you so choose. 

Having just eaten a whole fish and more, we’re not sure about dessert but peruse the menu anyway. Our eyebrows curl both confused and curious at the Fillet Steak Sandwich. We wonder if this is a euphemism for a dessert we’ve never heard of? No, it isn’t. At Lillibet’s, you can have a steak sandwich for dessert! And, after all that fish, apparently, some people do. I’m close to ordering one for the bragging rights, the after dinner dinner story, you’ll never guess what my favourite dessert is, etc, etc, but in the end I bow out.

It just doesn’t seem right. Maybe one day. My friend goes for ice cream and I opt for what I assume will be a traditional Crèpe Suzette but, as with much of the rest of the evening, expectations are subverted. Self-confident, even a little brash, this is no flat crèpe but one the size and appearance of a chimichanga. Poured at the table, an orange liqueur burns a blue flame.  The thin caramel crisp conceals a delicious Grand Marnier mousse all dripped in a treacly sauce for a rich but satisfying ending. 

In some respects, Lillibet’s could be considered a magpie, stealing inspiration from the present and the past, honouring tradition but cheerily challenging it. Casual grandiosity is underscored by charming intimacy. Staff exceed at being friendly but professional with Nicolas effortlessly setting the gold standard. The extravagant but familiar design is matched by food which occasionally challenges but unanimously delights.  In London 2025, it’s hard to imagine what a unique restaurant might look like, if one could even exist, but, in fact, all you have to do is step inside Lillibet’s magical world and you’ll find the answer.