Restaurant review: The Ivy Asia is an assault on all five senses — I hated it
The Ivy Asia
“Have you dined with us before?” asked the Ivy Asia hostess.
“Well, no, you only opened four days ago,” I wanted to reply, but then I realised she was asking if I had been in one of their nine other restaurants. They are clearly proud of being a chain.
The Ivy Asia is a few metres from the original Ivy, which opened in 2018 and where I ate one of the worst meals of my life, but at least I quite liked the Laura Ashley-on-steroids decor. The Ivy Asia is an assault on all five senses.
On my arrival, there was a weird incense smell, generic loud techno on the tannoy, a garish green floor that made me imagine an algal bloom hit by an oil spillage and given a neon glow by a leak at a nuclear power plant.
There are buddha statues and geisha paintings, herons and samurai armour, stylised swirls of contrasting colours on the ceiling, an enormous fake cherry blossom tree, colourful damask pattern chairs, and couches and uniforms. The overall effect made me slightly nauseous.
While the decor was mostly Japanese with bits of India, the menu was more eclectic: A mix of Japan, China, Korea, Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia, India, and California fusion. Given the confusing range of flavours, it took a while to decide, so we just chose things that sounded good, regardless of origin.
Crispy wontons and poppadoms (€6.95) were triangles of wonton pastry and mini poppadoms with a ‘szechuan dip’. Crunchy at first, they became triangles of sadness once dipped in the sweet, confected ‘szechuan’, which had zero Szechuan pepper or chilli flavour. It didn’t even taste Chinese.
California roll with snow crab (€15.95) would similarly require severe punishment if served in Japan, the snow-crab flavours lost in the sticky, sweet mayonnaise, but dwarfed by some of the worst sushi rice I’ve ever tasted. It was chewy, under-seasoned, matt in colour (instead of glossy), and just barely coalescing. We left it unfinished.
Pork and kimchi gyoza (€12.95) looked pretty, thanks to lots of micro herbs, but were also under-seasoned and had a barely detectable pork flavour. The kimchi on top had no fermented notes, no heat, just a whisper of vinegar and a touch of salt. My Korean friends would weep.
Some heat was evident in the chilli mayonnaise on which the gyoza sat (why?), but this was a harsh heat that added nothing.
Some proper flavour finally arrived with the gochujang chicken (€15.95). Tender, sticky sweet, and spicy, as promised on the menu, this was the only dish we finished. Japanese robatayaki chicken was served with Indonesian satay sauce, which was an odd choice, but at least the sauce had flavour, unlike the woolly-tasting, overcooked chicken.
On the side, our kimchi rice was a mushy, flavourless melange with a hint of vinegar, while the cucumber salad had some heat (from chilli powder), but no flavour.
For drinks, there are European wines, Asian beers, and teas, plus themed cocktails. One deserves mention, as it sounds bizarre: Akuma Margarita. It consists of Casamigos Blanco tequila, lime, hot honey, mango-infused pinot noir, and tajin seasoning.
The wine list is a good length, with some punchy prices, beginning at €43 for an Italian Trebbiano or La Mancha red, but quickly jumping to the mid-€50s for anything interesting. I chose a Provençal rosé, at €55, but what arrived was Château La Tour de By Bordeaux rosé, which was not on the list. Our waiter was confused, but assured us it was the same price, so I decided not to quibble.
In fact, I suspect I got a better wine than originally ordered. This was tangy, juicy, and fresh, and a good match for the dishes we ordered.
Sake barrel (€11.95) crème brûlée arrived looking like a mini barrel with a sesame-sake tuille on top that needed to be smashed with a little mallet. The tuille tasted awful, slightly burnt, dusty, and stale, while the brûlée was bog-standard and inoffensive.
A strawberry coulis on the side (why?) had an offensive, unpleasantly artificial taste. Green lantern (€13.95) white chocolate and yuzu cheesecake was a bit better, but had too much (rather sour) cream and not enough biscuit.
The Ivy Asia is a mess, clashing confusing flavours (where there was flavour) and eye-bleeding decor. I hated it. The staff were lovely, it should be said (if a little over-enthusiastic), but this was a depressing experience.
I watched one table take as many photographs of themselves as of their food, (they even swapped places a couple of times) and maybe this is the point of The Ivy Asia. It certainly isn’t the cooking.
12 Dawson Street, D2
- Dinner for two with a bottle of wine, €175.45
