Last Updated on August 8, 2026
Golden Summer Dining at The Ivy on King’s Road
3.5 out of 5.0 starsWhat could be nicer than a long lazy lunch on a summertime terrace dappled with sunshine, catching up with an old friend? Time slips past before you realise you’ve spent three hours dining at The Ivy Chelsea Garden. Much like Titanic (the film), the first half was plain sailing with a wetter second half than planned. Hiccups aside, The Ivy’s current Golden Summer menu, which we were choosing from, is unquestionably a superb bargain at £19.95 for two courses.
Assuming you’ve seen the Kate Winslet movie, you’ll recall the closing dream sequence as elderly Rose wanders through the ship, with uniformed crew making eye contact and gesturing courteously in the sumptuous surroundings. It felt similar being led to your table at The Ivy: neatly liveried in jade green, passing staff beam with refined poise. You walk through a series of spaces with polished interior design bedecked with tiles, muscular soft furnishings and The Ivy’s signature stained glass. Emerging onto the fern-filled outdoor terrace, it’s like Kew Gardens’ Palm House with umbrellas and champagne buckets.
My initial impression was of somewhere professional, elevated and verdant. Colefax and Fowler meets Quaglino’s; mirrors to people-watch, stone cherubs nestling between tables. The clientele spanned those for whom lunch at The Ivy is everyday currency: silver foxes in linen suits, mums in Carrie Johnson-style dresses. Others were on holiday or having a girls’ lunch. We fell into the latter category, and I immediately felt that lunch here, particularly on this lovely terrace, was going to be memorable.
Seated at the end of the shady terrace at The Ivy, we were on a corner table with metal Provençal garden chairs and so many cushions I had to rearrange them to fit myself on the banquette seating. The folded paper seasonal menu had lovely illustrations on the outside, of English cricket matches and swans. Mineral water was efficiently poured by a server; so far, so attentive.
Having not seen each other recently, we weren’t yet ready to order but did so next time the server returned. Although mineral water had flowed virtually the moment we sat down, things now drifted away from optimum order. Starters were brought before we’d received the cocktails, meaning we couldn’t sip these – at their best – for a few minutes before eating the first course.
I felt we’d missed our turn in a revolving door, perhaps unwittingly upset the natural sequence of serving our table by not immediately ordering drinks (we couldn’t find the cocktails amidst several menus). The terrace was now busier, although indoors less so. Initially this didn’t trouble us; we each checked out the pink flamingo-decked loo, Goldilocks’ed our seating positions until comfortable. No hurry.
For starters, I ordered Velouté de Petits Pois, arriving in a silver jug which is poured onto a soup plate holding a cheesy puff pastry stick, sprig of pea shoots and dollop of thick chopped herb cream. Given the weather, I wished it were chilled, although it would be brave for a nationwide chain to risk such folly with the British public. The bright soup was smooth and thick – a good start.
My friend had Golden Fried Calamari, which looked pretty with crisp, lightly spiced batter, floral decoration and served on a bed of crème fraîche. Whilst not overly chewy, she said the squid wasn’t the tenderest she’d had.
My Champagne Colada, a sparkling twist on Pina Colada, came in a tall skinny glass with a pointy banana leaf I had to keep moving in case it poked me in the eye. It tasted nice at first but later lost its appeal as the ice melted whilst I was eating, making the drink look separated. This would have been better drunk neat and cold before the ice had a chance to water it down.
The Ivy Royale is a mix of Tanqueray gin, strawberry, elderflower, honey, champagne – and lots of ice. I don’t think champagne cocktails work in tall straight glasses; your hands speed up the melting ice.
Main courses arrived. I really liked my Flamed Halloumi With Golden Grains and felt it was a strong vegetarian option. Two squares of golden textured cheese, not at all squeaky or overly salty. The salsa verde base was a thick sauce; a Mediterranean red mix of grains and tomato hid under the cheese, and pine nuts added crunch. I’d order it again. The colours and textures were very pleasing.
My friend had Brioche-Crumbed Chicken Escalope on a bed of more crème fraîche, capers and shavings of Grana Padano cheese. It was somewhat hidden under wilted green leaves – you can’t even see it in the picture. She assured me the chicken was there underneath. I liked the detail that her lemon half was tied up in a bundle of muslin cloth, preventing seeds from landing on the food – the kind of touch that feels more attentive.
Meanwhile, our side of Green Beans with a spoonful of thick tomato and shallot dressing on top went well with our mains. I was less impressed with the Heirloom Tomatoes as these seemed rather ordinary red ones rather than an interesting variety.
Although the melted ice made our glasses look still full, we’d long finished our cocktails and could have done with ordering fresh drinks.
This was where the attentive service we’d enjoyed on arrival had sunk somewhat. Our feeling was that our server became more occupied with a demanding neighbouring table and by comparison we felt forgotten. At sea, you might say, with finished plates waiting an overly long time to be cleared. I didn’t mind for a while, but then we started trying to move things along. Most tables around us had new diners seated; there had been no shortage of servers in the vicinity, but they all seemed very skilled at not looking our way when we needed them.
Eventually we were offered dessert menus and more drinks (we still hadn’t been topped up since those late cocktails). New drinks came; the dessert menu did not; time began to creep even more. I think a lot of people would give up now.
The moment had been missed to have wine, so instead we each had mocktails. Both of these were actually better than the cocktails. Rhubarb & Raspberry Fizz was delicious, frothy and pink, made with 0% Tanqueray and soda. My friend had Blood Orange Spritz made from non-alcoholic Lyre’s Blood Orange. Both were excellent alternatives to alcohol without feeling you’ve resorted to a kid’s drink.
Finally, we got our desserts, although we were now flagging as we’d been seated for nearly three hours. We chose a Crème Brûlée au Vanille, purely to see it flambéed tableside, as promised on the menu: to our disappointment, this didn’t happen. Taste-wise it was nice enough but didn’t redeem the frustration of the long wait, and the custard needed a firmer set. There was no Amélie Poulain moment cracking the caramel crust into satisfying shards, rather a soft spoon-push into a lace-thin sprinkle. I liked the mini metal serving pan, but it was a basic dish that should have been executed better. We might have forgiven that, had it been blow-torched as described.
Similarly, Mediterranean Gold didn’t match the menu description of “a Champagne jelly layered with macerated summer strawberries and fragrant Amalfi lemon zest”. Served in a tall sundae glass with gold-sprayed ice cream wafer fanning out from mounds of cream and ice cream, it looked the part. Now sharing both desserts, we excitedly pushed our spoons through strawberry ice cream for the jelly. However, underneath the pleasant pink ice cream we found only liquid and three measly pieces of strawberry. For a dessert that charges a supplement, this rather took the biscuit.
“It tastes nice,” said my friend, “but it’s more like a drink.” We were tempted to borrow straws from the mocktails to slurp it up. We poked the spoons deeper; truly no sign of jelly. Perhaps this wasn’t set either? I queried this with the manageress, who apologised and, after consulting the kitchen, said it was meant to be like this. She agreed they really shouldn’t be calling it jelly on the menu. I left even more confused. Was it a Coke-float style drink? I don’t know.
We might say we enjoyed a liquid lunch, me especially, as I’d started with soup. After all, on a day hitting 35c, you need to keep your fluids up. In summary, our first two courses were very nice, and The Ivy Chelsea Garden terrace is a splendid place in which to while away a summer’s afternoon in London. Some ladies opposite had been there even longer than us, clearly having a great time and possibly only just getting warmed up.
Had we disembarked after mains, we’d never have known about the dessert iceberg in our path. Had I been somewhere more humdrum, I might never have questioned it. Would I go back? Well, I’ve watched Titanic eight times, knowing exactly how it ends – so yes, absolutely.
The Ivy Chelsea Garden
197 Kings Road
London
SW3 5EQ
Tel: 020 3301 0300
Looking for more restaurants in London? Check our roundup of great British restaurants (there’s a full review for each one)
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