For 11 years, Lyle’s has been a defining part of London’s modern food scene its unfussy, seasonal cooking and pared-back interior consistently ranked it high on my list.

8:30 PM… It had been a while since I’d booked such a late dinner reservation. But this was the earliest I could get for his birthday. A little rushed, a little excited, we set off.

Lyle’s is tucked inside the Tea Building on Shoreditch High Street, an industrial space known for its galleries and creative tenants. As we step inside, a visibly tired and slightly dazed host asks for our name. I repeat it several times with no luck. Eventually, someone else appears, giving us the familiar “is this happening again?” look, and tells us our table is ready.

I scan the room: white walls, exposed pipes, industrial lighting… wooden tables and chairs that add a touch of warmth. The open kitchen is fully visible from where we’re waiting ,minimalist, neutral, and gently purposeful in its design.

Despite mentioning the birthday in advance, there’s no note on the table. A minor letdown… While Bal heads to the bathroom, I gently remind a staff member and mention our dessert request again.

Thankfully, the menus arrive. Chef James Lowe offers a daily changing tasting menu based on a ‘hyper-seasonal’ philosophy. Each visit feels like a first which I find both grounding and exciting. We opt for the tasting menu.

The pacing, however, feels off from the start. Carlingford Rock Oyster is placed in front of us well before the wine arrives. As tempting as it is, I hesitate oysters this clean and mineral deserve the right glass. When the wines do arrive, no one seems to know which is which. I’ve barely touched the oyster when the plate is whisked away, only to be sheepishly returned after someone realises it was still full.

Every fumble in service is swiftly redeemed by the kitchen. The wood-roasted carrots with smoked cod’s roe are beautifully quiet, restrained, technical, balanced. Then comes the game liver tart: rich, iron-heavy, assertive. Not quite to my taste, but unsurprisingly, it’s his favourite of the night.

The mood shifts again with the next plate. White asparagus, bottarga and cedrat lemon — a delicately composed dish. The white pith of the lemon is unexpectedly tender and almost floral, offsetting the saline punch of the bottarga. Possibly my favourite bite of the evening.

Then, without warning, the mains land in quick succession. Monkfish and guinea fowl, one after the other. I haven’t even made it to my second glass. It’s the kind of rush that makes me feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome at someone else’s dinner party. Thankfully, someone notices and the pace slows.

Dessert is a gentle closer: rhubarb and goat’s curd. Rhubarb rarely does much for me, but here it works bright, refreshing, lifted by the subtle tang of the curd. There’s no candle, but a miniature dessert is quietly brought over after a sweet gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed.

And now, to the heart of the matter…

Lyle’s has announced it will be closing soon. The reasons remain unclear, though word is that James Lowe is moving toward a more personal, independent project. The JKS Group will likely repurpose the space for a new concept.

For 11 years, Lyle’s has been a defining part of London’s modern food scene its unfussy, seasonal cooking and pared-back interior consistently ranked it high on my list. Even with the hiccups during our last visit, the cooking was still full of grace.

He looked content.. I guess that’s what matters. Now, the bill please.