January 14, 2026 |
If Noël Coward did restaurant interiors the results might look something like Lilibet’s, which opened in September and stands on the site of the Mayfair townhouse where Queen Elizabeth II was born and takes its name from her childhood nickname.
Not a brick of that original house remains but that hasn’t stopped Lilibet’s, (founded by Ross Shonhan, ex-Nobu executive chef and founder of the Bone Daddies ramen empire) from leaning into its eccentric aristo back story. The main room with its overstuffed banquettes, chintz pelmets and Roman blinds, (courtesy of Russel Sage Studio), serves blousy Queen Mum style to a world weary of minimalism’s cold grip. “It’s granny. But in a good way,” said my dining companion and 10 global editor-in-chief, Sophia Neophitou as she admired a piece of scallop-edged crockery, “Even the plates are frilly.” All of which makes it a deliciously camp antidote to the bland, international style adopted by so many restaurant spaces. Eating here is an event.
At Lilibet’s, a row of painted dog portraits greets you as you walk downstairs to the bathroom, which is a Wedgewood-blue confection complete with piped white ‘wedding cake’ plasterwork – a tinkle palace in every sense. The ladies room also has one of those magic mirrors that makes you look thin, which is just as well because the food here is rich in both flavour and calories and just like the interior, it’s more than a little eccentric.
There’s a fillet steak sandwich on the dessert menu. Why? The idea came from Portugal, apparently, where it’s not unusual to finish a slap-up meal with a beefy bap. Wherever it originated, the dish is a tender, bite-sized, salty umami delight. “A protein daddy’s fever dream,” declared my colleague, Garth who was game enough, after two courses, to try it.
The mainstay of the Lilibet’s menu is fish, and everything is served with theatrical flourish. This place never breaks character. If Lilibet’s was a person, they’d be a permanently tipsy bon viveur. Our group of four slipped into an over-stuffed banquette and studied the menu. Nobody was in the mood for oysters, not even the ones roasted in aged beef fat and seaweed butter. Instead, we went with a handsome crudites plate featuring artfully displayed raw seasonal vegetables, baba ghanoush, green chilli taramasalata and a moreish anchovy dip. It came with dinky barbajuan filled with spinach, gruyere and lemon. If fancy photogenic finger food, it’s your thing, Lilibet’s can provide. Mini crab tarts and little skewers of tuna get our party started (did I mention, it’s my birthday?). I’ve never had an anchovy éclair before. At Lilibet’s, you order it individually and a micro-pastry, the length of your little finger and piped with a delicate frill of anchovy parfait, is served on what looked like an individual glass paperweight. It poses for an Instagram selfie and then is gone in one greedy bite.
For mains, there are plenty of familiar seafood options from a tempting Dover sole with Café de Paris butter to Cornish turbot with Pil Pil sauce, but the richness of the flavours and the flair of the presentation take this out of the realm of simple comfort food. I opt for the lobster spaghetti – an almost soporifically rich tomato pasta, topped with generous slices of meat. Garth (aka Protein Daddy) had the veal holstein topped with a fried egg. Sophia polished off a divinely presented plate of grilled chicken with grilled tomatoes, capers and basil. Paul gobbled up the fried goujons served with a teeth-kissingly tart preserved lemon mayonnaise. “Take a fish finger but make it royal,” he declared. For the table we ordered the tangy fresh pasta with chili lime butter and parmesan, a crunchy romaine salad with Caesar dressing and Lilibet’s famous mash which comes with a drizzle of shellfish bisque and lobster meat.
Lilibet’s is unashamedly theatrical. For pudding, alongside the steak sandwich, we shared a domed princess cake, covered in chlorophyl-green icing, apple tart and a strawberry and vanilla cheese cake.
Lilibet’s is very English, but also very Vegas. It puts on a show. Don’t come alone. The food’s far too good for a quiet lunch and don’t rush it (as of March 8, it’s open for Sunday lunch). Come with friends, come to be entertained by richness of the food, the frilly plates and the divine camp of it all.
Photography courtesy of Lilibet’s.
