Alex Larman revisits four of the capital’s most beloved institutions, uncovering the charm, craft and character that have earned them their place in London’s culinary hall of fame…
What makes an iconic restaurant? In a business where only the best – or at least savviest – establishments endure, it tends to be somewhere that consistently offers the very greatest of food, drink and, above all things, atmosphere to their discerning clientele.
We at the Arbuturian have gone above and beyond the call of duty to visit some of London’s longest-lasting and most enduring establishments, which delight and nourish their loyal patrons. One of these places is hundreds of years old, the other a mere couple of decades, but what they all have in common is the ability to keep us – and many, many others – coming back for more. Long may it last.
Wiltons
“Is it right”, quoth Larry while eating grouse off the bone with caveman zeal, “that I am using my fingers? In Wilton’s?” Well, since the St James seafood and game restaurant opened in 1742, I am sure that it has seen behaviour considerably worse than Larry’s undecorous table manners, but you wouldn’t know that anything untoward has taken place in its hushed, deeply comfortable surroundings thanks to the efforts of a crack team of staff who ensure that every diner’s visit is a memorable and wholly fulfilling one.
You enter off the busy buzz of Piccadilly, but you wouldn’t know that there’s a metropolis outside, so well-drilled are the team in creating an atmosphere of still repose. You’re offered a drink – I plump for a glass of house champagne, Larry for a delicious cucumber martini with Wilton’s own gin – and then it’s time to sample the delights of the menu.
It would be wrong not to have the oysters and salmon, but there’s a pleasing degree of choice in these areas. We opt for a half-dozen oysters, including the Atlantic Edge Rock and the Loch Ryan Natives; these finely shucked delights go down with ease, thanks to a drop of the house Tabasco, and a glass of Albarino is a fitting accompaniment to both these and the Wimbledon Smokehouse smoked salmon.
It would not be a visit to Wilton’s without something carnivorous, and Larry and I tread in different directions. It is grouse season so he professes himself delighted with his main, complete with the obligatory game chips, but I’ve seen the daily trolley, which today is boasting the sirloin of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding of dreams, so there really can’t be any other choice. With a side of red cabbage and a glass of the extra-special Coravin-derived Ducru-Beaucaillou claret from Saint-Julien, this is Wilton’s, and British dining, at its very best.
We wrap up with a Black Forest trifle, which is gorgeously rich and almost defeats both of us trenchermen, complete with a glass of LBV port. Then a coffee later, we’re out the door, bidding fond farewells and eyeing up the excellent-value express lunch menu, a relative steal at £58 for three courses. No wonder Wilton’s has been in business for hundreds of years; here’s to the next few hundred.
For more information about Wiltons, including details of its history, and for bookings, please visit www.wiltons.co.uk.
The (Original) Ivy
After one of the most rapid (and, dare we say, successful) expansions of the Ivy brand across the country over the last decade, there is a slight sense that this most elegant of brasseries can be taken for granted. Still, there’s a genuine thrill to be had from heading to the original Ivy in Covent Garden, which was for years a haunt of the great and the good.
Even now, there’s a buzz and excitement about this restaurant that, with the greatest of respect, is absent from some of the provincial branches. This is partly because of the presence of the ultra-exclusive members’ club upstairs, but also because there is a real sense here that this is the flagship, and the game has to be raised that bit accordingly.
If the food on the menu is squarely in the classic Ivy tradition, that doesn’t stop it from being excellent. Starters of crispy duck salad and bang bang chicken salad are finely tuned, just as mains of USDA sirloin and (naturally) the Ivy’s iconic shepherd’s pie are as good as you’ll get at any brasserie nearby.
Yet it’s two things that make this place special; the room, which is every bit as elegant as it’s always been – even down to the windows, studded with coloured diamonds, and tinted so that onlookers can’t gaze in – and the drinks list, which is head and shoulders above the other restaurants.
Christmas at The Ivy (photo: Johnny Stephens Photography)
I order a ‘rolling Negroni’, where you roll a dice and a different kind of gin is made available depending on what you throw, only to be ruefully informed that they have lost the dice and therefore the element of surprise. I therefore opt for the safer option of the Tanqueray-and-honey bees’ knees cocktail, which was designed to commemorate the centenary of the Ivy. It is very fine indeed, as are a carafe of Gewurztraminer and a bottle of Rioja, and when the meal concludes – as it must – with one of the perennially popular espresso martinis that we see whizzing around the restaurant, it’s hard not to conclude that this grande dame of London establishments still has every inch of what it takes.
For more information, bookings, and details of what’s on at Christmas (such as the Elves’ Breakfast), please visit www.ivycollection.com.
Hawksmoor Spitalfields
It is a mark of how much the London restaurant scene has changed over the past two decades that Hawksmoor now operates seven establishments in the capital (as well as outposts in Liverpool, Edinburgh and Manchester), and has managed to maintain the same levels of quality that they had upon opening their first ever branch in Spitalfields, on what was, back then, the unloved and unlovely Commercial Road. Fast forward twenty years and the area that intersects Shoreditch and Spitalfields is abuzz with restaurants, bars and clubs; beautiful people flock the streets (but don’t worry, there are ugly ones too) and there is a sense of vitality and energy, where new places are popping up every few moments.
The original Hawksmoor had a makeover a few years ago to bring it in line with the clubby, wood-and-leather aesthetic of the other restaurants in the group, and the slightly spit ‘n’ sawdust feel of the original has long since gone. However, some things remain the same. It’s far smaller than the others, and therefore has a cosy intimacy that is a mile away from the grandeur of the Air Street and Canary Wharf branches, which is imbued in both the welcome and the service.
A cherry negroni – which, I was fascinated to learn, is now Hawksmoor’s bestselling cocktail, overtaking the Shaky Pete’s Ginger Brew – is the perfect curtain-raiser to the meal, and then a smorgasbord of delights from both the a la carte and all day set menus to continue; old spot belly ribs are a great starter, and then choose your fighter from the set menu’s steak, whether it’s the lean fillet tail or the punchier rump, before finishing with strawberry pavlova or pina colada mille-feuille.
Wine’s always been taken seriously here, and a couple of glasses of Gruner Veltliner go well with the starters. What goes even better, however, is a bottle of Lyrarakis red wine from Crete, suggested by the ebullient manager Harry, which is rather different to the usual Malbecs and Pinot Noirs that one expects here, and has an unusual but utterly delicious nose on it that complements the steak – and the desserts – wonderfully. It’s a treat to head to any Hawksmoor, but this is a true delight, still. Here’s to another two decades.
For more information, including details of other venues, and for bookings, please visit www.thehawksmoor.com.
Chutney Mary
Moving from a neighbourhood restaurant in Chelsea to a prime location on one of St James’s grandest streets might be seen as hubris for a lesser restaurant, but in the case of one of London’s greatest Indian establishments, Chutney Mary, it was the deserved recognition that this is a place that should be ranked as highly as its neighbouring competitors.
Certainly, when you enter here on a weekday lunchtime, you are instantly aware that this is somewhere that you will be given the full five-star treatment, whether you are opting for a lavish a la carte feast or plumping instead for the rather more affordable lunch platter: you can come here and dine on the ‘tandoori chicken club sandwich’ for as little as £24, which will barely buy you a Pret these days, or have a casual lunch in the Pukka Bar.
Nonetheless, it’s the restaurant proper that has attracted the most attention, as we discover as soon as we sit down. A welcome glass of champagne is, indeed, welcome, and then we place ourselves in the ebullient manager’s hands to sample a wide range of the dishes on offer. A basket of various poppadums and chutneys is about as good as it gets, and then we went on a miniature journey through the tastes and traditions of Indian cuisine.
Starters of griddled scallops in Mangalorean sauce and reshmi chicken seekh kebab are exemplary, just as a side of tandoori artichoke hearts makes eating vegetables a joy, but the real culinary fireworks come with the main dishes. I haven’t had better tandoori lamb chops or seabass in living memory – the latter filleted with consummate skill at our table- and the mangalore prawn curry is a thing of beauty. The garlic naans keep on coming; we are very happy.
I have yet to mention the wine, but there’s something a bit special going on here. In addition to a fine selection of ‘normal’ wines by the glass, of which the white Macon Chardonnay is particularly good, there are a few special Coravin options, which enable diners to sample something really exceptional by the 125ml helping. A Puligny-Montrachet is the stuff of legend, and a Nebbiolo has a smoothness that makes sipping on this wine a true delight, even by the standards of oenophiles.
Desserts are unusually good for an Indian restaurant – the plum, ginger and saffron tart comes particularly highly recommended – and then it’s time for an espresso (for my guest) and a fine espresso martini (for me) before a quick tour of the lavishly appointed private dining rooms and then a departure onto St James. ‘That’, my chum Alan pronounced as we left, ‘was about the most enjoyable two hours I can remember spending anywhere.’ The man was right, and then some.
Chutney Mary, 73 St James’s St, London SW1A 1PH. For more information, and for bookings, please visit www.chutneymary.com.
All of these splendid institutions are booking now for Christmas, but please make haste, tables are already filling.
