'Great service, great building, poor food': The Ivy Liverpool Brasserie reviewed

It's £19.75 and it's a flat iron chicken, which means it's been fully boned, or as the Ivy puts it 'de-boned'. This sounds vaguely illegal or pornographic.

Now, cast your minds back to when mouse mats were a thing. Remember those spongy, rubbery assists to computing on a PC? This flat iron chicken was similar in texture and in appearance. True there was a somewhat decent mushroom sauce which helped lift the chicken's flaccid lolling but there were also some green beans which appeared to have been cooked a week or two earlier and some black truffle which was shouting TRUFFLE, TRUFFLE, TRUFFLE at me, like a drunkard outside a rundown pub demanding a fight. This was one of the most unpleasant dishes of my eating out year. It was one of the most unpleasant dishes of my eating in year. 

Unfortunately the food is a side show, the food is not the reason you will be visiting The Ivy Brasserie Liverpool

The Ivy Brasserie Liverpool is a curious beast. 

It occupies one of the best 1840s buildings in the country, a Grade I listed building no less and a former Bank of England. The architect back then was Charles Cockerell who was a bit of a genius. Externally it's all Classical cleverness and still is, inside it was all restrained elegance. It was.

Now, as befits Ivys across the country, it's all monkey and lion adorned jungle wallpaper with glitzy, glinting bits and bobs. Across the former banking hall, and now main dining room, there's inexplicably something akin to a dry stone wall topped by trees of an indeterminate nature. Charles Cockerell would either laugh his head off or decide to enquire what a mouse mat was and then eat it so he could choke. Or he could just order the flat iron chicken. Same result.

The barman pointed to the columns behind him and said: "Because of the status of the building we can't even rest any bottles against these, nor can we have beer pumps because that would mean damaging the place." 

This seemed odd as no similar respect has been given to much of the rest of the building. 

Close to the weird dry stone wall the Grade I listed columns have been wrapped in mirror glass. This is a bank turned into fake bordello, but hey, that's The Ivy. And to be honest, it's fun in its own insanity. And more to the point the building has life instead of remaining a dead space for years which is one positive.

Let's pause for a second here to praise the staff. 

They were exceptional from the reception staff to the waiters. They were friendly, efficient, fun when required and knowledgeable. The training has worked or maybe these folk are naturals for hospitality. 

So while the staff are superb and the fit-out lively, if perhaps out of kilter with the original, the food is simply not very good. So much money spent and such an average menu and such average cooking. I don't blame the chefs either as they are clearly told this is the way it should be as The Ivy is a chain with jungle wallpaper and they better conform with no arguments. 

There are good dishes. Well, two good dishes on our visit. 

The truffle arancini rice balls for £6.95 were addictive and I could easily imagine eating a bag of them while watching a footy match; handy little moreish buggers they were. The whiskey barrel smoked venison tartare (£14.25) was the standout dish, rich beyond Midas, with the earthy meat, egg yolk, pickled and vinegary beetroot and hazelnut mayonnaise. This dish was as exotic as the wallpaper and as colourful as the clientele.

Then it was all downhill. 

The mozzarella starter (£10.75) was a damp disaster. It was akin to loose Polyfilla with radicchio leaves sticking out of it like donkey ears. The only uplift were the glazed pecans but there was no rationale as to why they were even there. 

As for the mains, the flat iron chicken, as described above, was a shocker, as were the thick cut chips (£5.95) which were as dry as Jack Dee's wit. I asked for vinegar and doused and doused them and they still remained stubbornly arid and terrible. What does 'thick cut chips' even mean anyway? Chips are chips not fries. 

The smoked haddock and salmon fish pie was ok with a passably moist consistency and an entertaining egg but was it worth £17.50? Maybe, but just maybe. The side of creamed spinach (£5.95) was again ok but too loose. 

A dessert of 'warm almond' mince pies, again £5.95, was very Iceland supermarket. 

There's one purpose for The Ivy and it's not the food. It's about the occasion. It's dining out as a show. It's dining out as a see and be seen place. Dress up, show a bit of leg, flex that bicep in a mirrored column, look around, because there's no need to look at the grub. 

True, there is great service here in a spectacular building that has been returned to the city and the north west. That's all good. Unfortunately the food is a side show, the food is the last reason you will be visiting The Ivy Brasserie Liverpool. 

The Ivy Brasserie Liverpool, 31 Castle St, Liverpool L2 4TA.