Lulivo (Bar, Restaurant)

Best for: smartly dressed staff who attend swiftly, offer recommendations, and do a sterling job of cleaning a fish.

Great: meat; fish; central London location; and conceptualisation of duality.

Ben is Jerry’s. Tom is Jerry’s. Pickle is cheese’s. Wine is cheese’s. In fact, cheese is cheese’s. Joe Biden is Barrack Obama’s. The paparazzi is Lindsay Lohan’s. And Jägermeister is most definitely Red Bull’s. These are those blessed individuals who would be nothing without their symbiotic pairings.

This Italian restaurant just moments from Trafalgar Square (and its pigeons), or the Houses of Parliament (and their pleb-naming politicians), loves to love a pairing. It was, and probably still is (since our visit), filled with pairings that have the panache of Sir Chris Hoy proudly displaying his Olympic gold medals, the comfort of a Sunday evening spent in front of Channel 4’s Homeland, and the familiarity of Boris Johnson and his bicycle helmet.

For a start, the restaurant’s custom seemingly only comes in pairs: an elder boss takes his far-too-attractive subordinate for a post-work schmooze; an out-of-town girlfriend uses dinner to tell her one and only London pal the big news; a restaurant critic talks shop with his sales department account manager. If Noah lead them in two by two, then Lulivo is the Ark they fill. The hugely satisfying use of reclaimed wood as the main component of the restaurant’s decor is evidence of this Ark-built notion.

Actually, what appears, on paper, as a dichotomy between modernity and rustic charm is, in fact, a welcome coupling that sets the right dining tone for what, at first, might seem like a pre-theatre crowd, but soon becomes a pre-theatre crowd that has decided to skip the West End show in favour of dessert instead; which is highly probably once you understand how yummy the tiramisu is. If Nando’s can do rusticity and modernity so well, why can’t an Italian restaurant?

There are plenty of pairs to rejoice at Lulivo: the contemporary industrial piping juxtaposing the mirrors framed by old rope; the modern Rubik’s Cube lampshades contrasting with the classic Italian frescoes; the posh hand soap and matching moisturiser in the toilets; the fact that the menu is crammed full of vegetarian options, even though the urge to head straight for the carne and pesce suburbs of the menu is far too strong to resist; the Montepulciano wine (large glass of) and its plentiful funghi e gorgonzola starter sidekick; the light summery Pinot Grigio breeze on which the roasted sea bass from the specials board delicately drifts along, suggestively draping itself over the crispy skin.

Meanwhile, the copious foot traffic outside stares through the large windows at the pairs enjoying their hearty Italian cuisine. These loners wish they too could pair up and slip into something rich, red onion and chorizo based instead of trawling off for another visit to the National Gallery, Leicester Square, Covent Garden or the Royal Festival Hall across the Thames.

They might want to note, however, that the upstairs ‘pairs’ restaurant is itself paired with a downstairs section that provides ample room for groups of cat-swingers to hold private functions. Remove your face from the window please sir, and go gather some mates forthwith, because this subterranean hideout has its own bar and prefers numbers that exceed two.

Lulivo is not without faults, however. The incongruous TV screen hung high on the wall has no pairing that I can spy; the delicious vitello san marco veal escalopes do not pair well with the plain tomato sauce accompanying them; the appearance of the cheap laminated menus does not do the food justice; and the tiramisu should be more adult really, as it lacks that naughty level of booze.

Then again, it could just be that I’m a lush. Kids have to eat here as well, I guess. How else can you explain the £5.95 kids’ menu with six options (greedy little rugrats)!

Like Rossopomodoro, Lulivo is teetering on the edge of just the right amount of character, looking down into the chasm of stereotypical and comical Italian. The restaurant does not serve a carbonara, for example, which in some circles - Bella Pasta, we’re looking at you here - is sacrilege. In circles that actively encourage an anti-carbonara policy, such as ours, Lulivo is seen as the Fender Stratocaster to the Jimi Hendrix of London’s West End....read more