Ivy League?

LUNCH AT THE IVY ON ROBERTSON BLVD.

The Most Photographed White Picket Fence in the World

Maybe I’ve become wiser, but I’m not as tickled by “it” places as I used to be. OK, so the peeling paint on the white picket fence is quaint, and I live for café culture which rarely exists in the US let alone in LA, but I’ve become remarkably astute at sensing hype.

If you want to be part of the lunch scene at The Ivy on a beautiful summer day and catch a glimpse of a celebrity or two (which I didn’t), be prepared for mediocre food and a long wait – much like The Cheesefake Factory, without those annoying vibrating buzzers but a lot steeper on your pocket.

In my 20’s I gave into all forms of hype. I dressed in the most uncomfortable clothes, waited in line and dined in the latest outrageously, overpriced places, because it “had” to be done. Now that I’m in my 30’s I’d like to think I’m more comfortable in my own skin and have more confidence to evaluate my dining destinations based on the experience as a whole.

Being a former Londoner I probably was setting myself up by ordering the plate of Seafood Fish and Chips that arrived on a huge Mexican style platter. Perhaps it’s a Californian twist on fish and chips, and to be fair it tasted OK, but filling up a huge plate with lettuce (or was it cabbage garnish) and condiments, seems like false advertising.

The waiters were polite, and rushed around wearing white Levi’s, white sneakers with pink shirts and Hawaiian print ties. The décor was a mix of French Provencal mixed in with The Little House on the Prairie and the walls, were definitely Tuscan inspired Stucco. There wasn’t a clear sense of identity, which also reflected on the menu. Although the general attraction of dining there is the ambiance, on that day, everyone was loud including the baby in the stroller a few tables away.

The only thing I loved about The Ivy was the antique silver teapots on each table, used as vases, and filled with a blooming, handpicked style mishmash of multi-colored roses and mint – an unexpected touch.