Ever since The Wolesley opened in November 2003, I had wanted to eat there.

The Restaurant changed owners in March 2022. On April 2 that year, Ed Cumming of The Telegraph reported (emphases mine):

On Friday morning, The Wolseley looked and sounded just like it always has. Stepping over the threshold out of the spring sunshine on Piccadilly, through the big doors and the dark curtain, you entered a thrilling and glamorous world, just as you have since it opened in 2003. In this art deco playground, all monochrome and gilt details, the cutlery still tinkled on china.

The espresso machine still hissed in the background. It was a full house, as usual, and the hubbub of the kitchen still mingled with the happy murmur of the guests’ conversation. The acoustics have always been strange here, simultaneously deafening and private. Some tables looked like business breakfasts, others like visitors fortifying themselves with bacon for Francis Bacon across the road at the Royal Academy. One or two customers sat alone, setting kedgeree against their hangovers. Nobody looked sad to be there.

If you had heard the news, however, something didn’t feel right. And Jeremy King – sitting at his usual table, in the far corner of the bar on the right as you go in, a plate of salmon in front of him, untouched – looked like he had seen a ghost.

Overnight, it had been announced that he and Chris Corbin had lost control of their restaurant company, Corbin & King, to their Thai-based shareholders, the Minor Group, after an auction that finished in the early hours of the morning and concluded with Minor paying more than £60m for the rest of the business. The company Corbin and King had founded, and steered through two decades of turmoil and glory, was no longer theirs, and neither were its restaurants, including The Wolseley, Brasserie Zedel, Colbert, Soutine, Fischers and Bellanger, which lie dotted across the capital, lighthouses of civilisation.

“I owe you an explanation,” King wrote in a newsletter, sent at 3.15 in the morning. “We took part in the auction to try and buy the business and assets of Corbin & King that we didn’t already own, including of course all the restaurants. Regrettably, that attempt failed and Minor Hotel Group was the successful bidder, buying the entire business.

“As a result, I no longer have any equity interest in the business, although for the time being, I remain an employee. I assume Minor will take immediate control of the restaurants.”

The article, complete with photos of The Wolesley, goes on to describe Corbin and King’s ethos for their now-former restaurants:

Corbin and King have always prided themselves on being democratic. Leave others to the £200 tasting menus and wine flights. Their restaurants drew on the European cafe and brasserie tradition, places for everyone to eat and drink and be ogled and conduct their affairs, of the heart and the briefcase. Food was important, but the atmosphere was the main thing …

The Wolseley was the critic AA Gill’s favourite restaurant: he wrote a book, Breakfast at the Wolseley, about a room he described as a “thing of grand beauty.” When Bacon’s old rival Lucian Freud died, they lit a candle at his usual table. Once, at breakfast I found myself with Katie Price at a table to my left and Lord Browne, the former chairman of BP, on my right. Celebrities love these restaurants, not because they are given special treatment, but because everyone is …

Eating smoked salmon and scrambled eggs – the latter, it must be said, not quite as good as I remembered them …

At last, King emerged from the bar and started making his usual tour of the dining room. He joked and laughed and shook hands. Some looked like old friends, others he was meeting for the first time on what might be his last day. You might not have known anything was amiss, but not everyone was fooled.

“Is Jeremy all right?” the woman at the next table asked me, evidently noticing something in King’s demeanour. “He looks sad.” I explained the situation. She looked worried. “I used to come here with my father,” she said. It was one of Lucian Freud’s daughters. I asked which had been Lucian’s spot. She tapped the table in front of her. “I still try to come most Fridays,” she said. “Partly it’s in his memory, but also they treat you like a queen. The last time I was here, Stephen Fry, Nigel Slater, Ross Kemp and Frank Auerbach were all here, too. Where else is like that? …”

According to their website, the ownership of the various restaurants is under The Wolseley Hospitality Group Limited.

When my far better half suggested going to The Wolesley a few weeks ago, as we had a commitment nearby, I sat back and thought, ‘Finally’.

What follows are our impressions of our early dinner there on a weekday afternoon.

The doorman

The day had been rainy, although when we arrived, the precipitation had paused.

The Wolesley is conveniently located in Piccadilly, just across from the Ritz, separated by Arlington Street.

A doorman wearing a black wool overcoat and a bowler hat opened the door for us. He looked at us but said nothing. It was only when I said, ‘Good afternoon’ that he greeted us. Surely it is his job to greet every guest? The doormen at the Ritz do so without fail — and with a smile.

The entrance

As it was chilly, we were wearing our raincoats. I had expected a cloak room for us to check our things, but no.

The bar, pictured in The Telegraph‘s article, was off to the right from the main desk. We did not see it.

The man behind the main desk was European and polite. He said that our table was ready.

The noise

The noise level was deafening and somewhat disconcerting for people who are accustomed to quiet establishments.

Both of us were taken aback by the acoustics, and it did rather put us in a bad mood.

However, some people love a buzz, so this is a place for them.

The table

A young woman showed us to our table, which was inside the large horseshoe area in the front of the restaurant. One of us sat in the curved banquette and the other in the chair opposite. The woman with the menus swung the table around, put the menus on the table, swung it back around and left us to take off our coats, half sitting down, which is not the most comfortable posture for coat removal.

The banquette in this section is continuous, but the upholstery is interrupted in places by lacquered wood. While it looks quite elegant and Japanese, it does not make for comfortable seating as it is difficult to avoid sitting on the end of an upholstered section. We put our coats there, but it was clear that my better half spent the first 15 or 20 minutes making adjustments to find a better sitting posture. As such, we had to leave the table at an angle.

From my vantage point, I could see there were two coat stands in the back, one on either side of the door leading to the downstairs loos. However, only two customers used them. It seemed a better idea to have our coats with us, although, if it had been raining, we would have used the stands.

The drinks

A link to a notional October 2023 menu can be found here. It includes all the offerings for food and drink at any time of day. Unfortunately, not all of the prices have been brought up to date.

I was happy to see that Lillet was on the Aperitif page (page 12). I hadn’t had a glass in 37 years. The price is £12 instead of £11.75, by the way. It was delightful.

My better half ordered a Dubonnet, which had also gone up in price from the stated £11.

It’s not a huge issue, but someone only needs to update the PDF from the actual menu.

We barely had time to finish our drinks, as the main courses came quickly, perhaps too quickly.

As for wine, it is sold only by the glass. We each had a glass of Corbières 2019, Château la Bastide, Languedoc (£11.50 a glass, page 15).

The main courses

The food, by the way, is good to excellent (see page 7 of the menu).

Let’s start with the good. My better half chose a large Eggs Benedict at £19.95. The English muffins, while suitably thick were rather burnt in places on top. The gammon slices were acceptable, although nothing to write home about. The eggs were poached beautifully, running through a competent hollandaise when cut into.

Now for the excellent. I chose the Omelette Arnold Bennett (£19.50) which is offered in very few restaurants. It is just as well, because it is an art form and requires great cooking skill. I would not dare try this at home until I improve my omelette expertise, which, right now, is not very high on the scale. I have chosen The Guardian‘s link to the recipe as the photo shows exactly what it should look like. As for the name, the paper’s Felicity Cloake tells us:

A brunch classic that deserves to be better known, much like the early 20th-century novelist it’s named after. Though Bennett himself seems to have enjoyed the dish as a post-theatre supper, this silky, smoky tangle of eggs, cheese and haddock is so ridiculously, deliciously rich that it’s best consumed well before bedtime … though I won’t judge you if you want to go back to bed afterwards.

It was delightful and stayed hot from start to finish. I highly recommend it.

The only drawback was the lack of a bread roll and butter, which also would have gone down a treat.

The service

While the servers were polite, some even congenial — you get more than one during the meal — overall, the quality of service waxed and waned.

They did not quite guide us from one stage of the meal to the next. This process should be seamless. In other words, timing is everything, even in a busy environment. Furthermore, it is unlikely that The Wolesley hires inexperienced wait staff. Therefore, the customer should not be sitting there twiddling his thumbs whilst viewing his server from a distance. It was difficult getting their attention.

Our first server did not have English as a first language, which in a quieter atmosphere would have been fine. He obviously did not understand what we were saying when we asked to have a drink from the bar before ordering. He just walked away. He came back ten minutes later to take our drinks and main course orders. It took ages for the aperitifs to arrive, then the main courses arrived five minutes later. Hmm. Our waiter tried to whisk away my Lillet, which I had barely started on. Dear, oh dear.

There was a very long lull between the end of the main course and the taking of the dessert order. At this point, we had another server, a young, congenial British woman who explained what a London Rarebit is. She highly recommended it.

The next course came quickly, then there was an interminable wait for the check. Why does this happen so frequently? Answers on a postcard, please.

The dessert and savoury

There are very few places in Britain now that feature savouries on the menu. These are in place of dessert.

Not being the biggest dessert fan, as they’re usually disappointing in some respect, I prefer savouries.

I had a small London Rarebit (£9.75, page 8), which was a slice of toast with melted grated cheese on the bottom supporting three generous slices of good quality streaky bacon and a beautifully poached egg in the middle. I was in culinary heaven. I will definitely try making that at home.

My better half had the Black Forest Gâteau (£9.50), which was acceptable but not a must at that price.

The check

The check for two came to £140.70.

That was for two aperitifs, two glasses of wine, two mains and two second courses.

It was a bit dear, but then, we were in Mayfair. Add in rent and rates, utilities and salaries and it’s probably fairly priced. Still, the noise was a big drawback.

We will not be returning.

The teas

The parties on either side of us ordered a Wolesley tea (page 10).

The two women to my left ordered the Classic Afternoon Tea (£44.50), comprised of finger sandwiches, scones and cakes, all presented on a traditional tea stand. One of them could not finish her portion, so they packed it up for her in a small branded paper shopping bag.

The two people — a man and a woman — to my right ordered The Wolesley Champagne Tea (£56), comprised of the above offerings but with a glass of Pommery Brut Royal NV. When they say ‘a glass’ they mean one glass. Fortunately, the man said he didn’t drink, so the lady received the Champagne.

We got a better look at their tea offering as it arrived while we were eating and were unimpressed. The tea sandwiches were in longish rectangles made with thickly sliced bread (some white and some artisan whole wheat) with a thin sliver of different fillings. There were eight of them. They were far from delicate.

The assorted cakes did not come in twos, but rather one of each, which prohibited sharing: a Battenberg slice, a chocolate torte, a macaron and two or three other creations.

The clientele

It was interesting to see the varied clientele.

The twenty-something woman sharing the Champagne tea with her male friend looked straight out of the pages of Tatler and was known to at least one staff member who asked her if she was living in Mayfair now. The young woman said that she was still living in her village but was meeting up with a friend. The server said that it was good to see her again.

The two women on my other side looked as if they were work colleagues. After they left, an older couple — man and wife — took their table. They were from northern Europe, but the noise prohibited me from distinguishing whether they were speaking Danish or German. I imagine they found The Wolesley in a tourist guide. I hope they liked it. One of them ordered the Chicken Schnitzel sandwich (£21.95, page 7). I didn’t see what the other had.

There are two upstairs sections behind the horseshoe area. There were couples, families with young children and a group of men who looked as if they’d just walked off a construction site. Democracy continues to reign, even though ownership has changed.

The history

The Wolesley was a British car manufactured between 1901 and 1975.

In the early 1920s, the Wolesley Motor Group made a full range of cars, including large luxury models. The company had a showroom built where the current restaurant is. The showroom opened in 1921 and the architecture is worth noting. The architect, William Curtis Green, built a stately, imposing structure in Portland stone with an interior influenced by Venetian and Florentine design. Unfortunately, the company fell into receivership in 1926.

Barclays Bank took over the building in 1927. The bank asked William Curtis Green to create the bank branch, to which he added a number of Japanese lacquered elements: furniture and doors. The doors still exist today and the restaurant furniture continues in the Japanese lacquered tradition.

Barclays sold the building in 1999, and a Chinese restaurant took over the premises. In 2003, restaurateurs Chris Corbin and Jeremy King took over the premises and were careful to preserve its original features. The Wolesley opened in November that year.

The Wolesley earned many awards in its first decade. Judging from the non-stop stream of customers, it continues to do very well, indeed.

It is located at 160 Piccadilly W1J 9EB and reservations can be made online.

The Wolesley City will be opening soon.