At Home With Trailblazing Drinks Impresario Ryan Chetiyawardana, aka Mr Lyan

Ryan Chetiyawardana—better known across the world’s drinks industry as Mr Lyan—is the visionary bar owner who has sought to redesign cocktail as a craft through a fusion of science, art, and sustainability. He was brought up in Birmingham by a pastry‑chef mother, where immersed himself in food, art, and biology from a young age, later studying fine art at Central St Martins in London and then biology and philosophy in Edinburgh before entering into the hospitality business.

His first major project, White Lyan (2013), was hailed as the world’s first zero‑waste cocktail bar—there, he eschewed perishables, ice, or branded spirits. Designed with a form of precision more associated with a fine-dining restaurant, it was named “Best New International Cocktail Bar” and won him “International Bartender of the Year” at Tales of the Cocktail in 2015. Following this, Dandelyan, which opened in 2014 at London’s Mondrian Hotel took his reputation to new heights; and by 2016 it won “World’s Best Cocktail Menu,” and in 2019, his work under the Lyan brand earned global acclaim with subsequent venues like Lyaness (in what was Dandelyan in London), Super Lyan in Amsterdam, and Silver Lyan in Washington DC.

Chetiyawardana’s application to his craft has always been matched by a fascination with experimentation — whether that’s fermentation, distillation, or the use of moulds and cultures—and is underpinned by a commitment to sustainability. He now leads Mr Lyan Studio, consults for top brands, has written acclaimed cocktail books, and now hosts the travel‑food‑drink series Mr Lyan’s Taste Trips, which debuted in March 2025.

Mr Lyan is a drinks impresario: part bartender, part scientist, part educator, whose inventive spirit keeps challenging what a cocktail experience can be.

He invited Something Curated into his home this summer to share seven of the most important objects in his life.

This interview was edited for clarity.

Sri Lankan Raksha mask

Ryan Chetiyawardana: This Sri Lankan Raksha mask hangs in my bathroom. I grew up around them but I grew up very British and they freaked me out as a kid. I was also shy about them.

I found that you don’t really accept these things as you’re growing up but then, as you get older, you begin to connect with objects like this [relating to your heritage] in a different way. I’ve found as I’ve gotten older, that I’ve enjoyed a reconnection through discovery.

They’re made by small communities — dream weavers in a way and Raksha is said to be an enabler of good luck. Something that you’ve got to work towards — through generosity and prosperity.

Richard Hamilton piece

RC: As a young art student I was interested in artists who were bucking the system by moving away from having to exist in a certain space. London artist Richard Hamilton was one of the godfathers of pop art and one of those concerned with making art more accessible.

I was doing photo realistic drawing, until I thought what the fuck am I doing and swung back towards abstraction.

This piece was from a small gallery in Bournemouth and it hangs above my bed.

Omega watch

RC: I got this from an old watch shop in Clerkenwell, the little yellow watch shop which wasn’t always open, it’s just a hole in the wall — but they always had this watch in the window.

Back then I was working in a club called Dust — the shift was 4 p.m. to 4 a.m. and I killed it on tips. Boozed all the way through the shift, then straight to college in the morning. (I always worked full time to fund my studies through uni.)

So I saved up and bought this watch. I’d never seen an object like it — it’s quite symmetrical. As a youngster, it was the first nice thing I bought.

Dimple mug / jug

RC: When you’re working in bars, everyone around me had super fancy equipment — lots of Japanese stuff. But often it wasn’t functional enough and it put the onus on you as a bartender to make it work. I liked things that were functional and I found this mug-jug in a charity shop on the south side of Edinburgh in Scotland. It’s tempered glass so it can deal with the thermal shock and I like to mix martinis in it. Stirring in it is really satisfying and I’ve always thought it ties together my love of pubs and cocktails, since it resembles the old style of pint glass. It’s weirdly ergonomic but I don’t think that was intentional.

I’ve had it since 2004 — it’s survived a lot of moves from different homes and places.

Knife

RC: This was the first nice knife I was given.

It was always instilled in me from my mum, and during the times I worked in kitchens, to have a good knife. But I could never afford a really good one.

There was this one time at some event I was competing in and an old mentor turned up with this knife. The idea was that it was something to take care of, an object which requires a different level of maintenance.

I find sharpening it to be therapeutic. Those maintenance things are the things I miss when I’m travelling a lot; when I’m home, I can cook and when I’m away, the physical memory of this knife as an item is a really nice thing to revisit.

First ‘World’s Best Cocktail Bar’ award plate

RC: I’ve been very bad at being sentimental about stuff from the bars. But the truth is, this was unexpected. The team had to persuade me to keep [these awards] and I’m glad did because I have this constant propensity for moving on and evolving — that’s just how I’ve been and how I’ve been in my career.

That said, I do attach meaning and nostalgia to physical items and objects; I’m not flippant about the recognition, but after each opening, I’m ready to move on and do the next thing.

A bit of old meteor

RC: This was gifted to me by a friend who thought I’d appreciate something that was billions of years old. I honestly can’t compute it — when I got it, it really was the first thing that broke my brain. Something about it feels a bit alien; something truly different — and literally, not from this Earth.

Read more Something Curated profiles here. All photography by Michaël Protin.