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After two decades as Mayfair’s chicest celeb dining spot (a Bill Nighy here, a Kate Moss there), The Wolseley has deigned to launch a second London site – and it’s quite the looker.
Taking over the ground floor of what was the Monument branch of House of Fraser, the site certainly fits the Wolseley blueprint. The Piccadilly original opened in 2003 in an equally grand business of yore – a majestic, marble 1920s car showroom. The Wolseley City has done extremely well to make this one-time department store lobby similarly echo a lavish art deco dining hall; complete with gothic chandeliers, golden Howard Carter-era Egyptomania touches, and beastly-big black and white striped columns which make you feel as if you’re eating inside a massive backgammon board.
A bacon chop was a bit much in the way that a bacon chop should be a bit much; roaring with salt, topped with two fried eggs and swimming in a peppery sauce
Full marks for the space, but what of the neighbourhood, which has always lacked a vibe, packed as it is with skyscraping, city-boy brasseries and the exception that proves the rule; the magical Victorian fish house that is Sweetings.
As good as The Wolseley City is, it won’t change the fact that the Square Mile remains a cultural wasteland, but at least the bankers can now take their expense accounts to somewhere with a little panache. When I arrive for a midweek dinner, the place is heaving with big Bullingdon energy. The menu is largely the same as the Piccadilly branch – food is European, leaning French, but with a soft spot for schnitzel, and prides itself on classics done simply but well. A starter trio of cured and smoked salmon was clean and sweet and served on trademark oval plates, while dressed Dorset crab was Chesil Beach-fresh, the light and dark meats arranged in razor-sharp rows on a bed of sharp, lemon-y greens.
Service was slightly frantic, and there’s a bit of a wait until mains arrived, but they were immaculate when they finally did. Fish of the day was flaky, pearlescent cod with seasonal veg – not reinventing the wheel by any stretch of the imagination, but keeping it spinning with alacrity – while a bacon chop was a bit much in the way that a bacon chop should be a bit much; roaring with salt, topped with two fried eggs and swimming in a peppery sauce diable. As if the chop hadn’t done enough damage, a gooey cauliflower rarebit made for an essential side.
Pudding is as trad as they come, with an extended selection of ice cream coupes. We opt for lemon meringue pie and black forest gateau; the former perfectly sharp, the later just the right amount of creamy. Finally, a decent reason to stay in the square mile post-6pm.
The vibe A spacious, silver screen-worthy grand cafe on the edge of London’s somewhat vibeless business district.
The food Classic European cookery, from snails and steak tartare to spatchcock poussin. Mains range from £18.95 (the house cheeseburger) to £44.50 for turbot, with most in the mid-20s; much like the design.
The drink 1920s cocktails such as a Mary Pickford sit alongside a whopping wine list.
Time Out tip A weekday breakfast is perhaps the best time to enjoy the Wolseley’s stately glam on the cheap – a crispy bacon roll comes in at just over a tenner, though an Arnold Bennett omelette is the connoisseur’s choice.