The Wolseley

St James

A glittering arena loved by the great and the good, it still gives Austria’s grand cafés a run for their money.

The late, great food writer AA Gill’s favourite spot in London was a breakfast table at The Wolseley. Always his usual, in the centre of the room beneath the arched ceiling for its acoustics, prestige and a vantage point that must be one of the primary pieces of people-watching real estate in the capital. Despite the kudos and mystery that surrounds it, the restaurant is surprisingly egalitarian. From 7am to midnight, it plays host to the Full English of diners: media types discussing book deals over egg-white frittatas in the AM; Manolo-heeled ladies of Mayfair for lunch; shopping pit-stoppers at afternoon tea; and pre-theatre diners and clandestine pairs sitting knee to knee in booths after sundown. The Wolseley caters to them all, with fair prices and a menu that will look familiar to anyone who’s taken kaffee and kuchen in any of the grand cafés of Central Europe.

Austria – arguably the best exponent of the genre – lends its influence in design and service. Black marble frames the room with walls accented by gold, while staff choreograph an effortless ballet between tables, sliding down plates and topping up glasses through impossibly thin alleyways of chairs and tables. These plates invariably overflow with the house classics of Wiener schnitzel, soufflé Suisse, coq au vin and steak tartare. Though on our visit, we opted for Holstein schnitzel – named after a 19th-century gluttonous German aristocrat who insisted on his with anchovies and a fried egg. A wise man, indeed. A rotating list of weekly specials keeps regulars coming back: Wednesday’s daube was a stew so rich in deep, meaty flavour that it tasted like the essence of beef distilled, while, as an accompaniment, fries doused in enough delicious salt to slay a slug are omnipresent on every table. Though it’s with pudding that the Austrian influence really shines through. Black Forest gâteaux is a steepled slab of rich chocolate soaked in enough kirsch to weigh-in a lumberjack, crème brûlée is a just-set delight and ice cream coupes come in canteen-style frosty stainless steel vessels that add to the theatre. Which, of course, is what you come here for. To see and be seen in a restaurant that knows its status and the importance of the meals that are taken here.