Confessions of a Wino

I went to The Ivy for lunch yesterday and whilst the food and service was impeccable, we were hounded off our table.

Arriving 11:55 for our 12:0pm table we had to queue outside whilst the staff were briefed. Eventually by 12:10 we were seated and ordered as quickly as allowed. We ate as quickly as one could reasonably be expected to eat without incurring indigestion.

At 1:20pm the Ivy Gestapo kindly permitted us to order a “quick” dessert or coffee, and leave.  The Obergruppenführer waiter tried to look suitably embarassed but failed miserably.  We were then encouraged, cajoled, and finally pressed to make our exit.

It’s a shame really when this sort of place leaves a slight tinge on an otherwise superb experience.  But I don’t want to be rude to my hosts so I won’t complain any further.

The oysters were legendary.  The Ivy Hamburger perfectly rare.  The Grüner Veltliner extremely competent, and the coffee (macchiato of course) not bad, despite the rush.

The somewhat entertaining, but supercilious and frequently AWOL Sunday Times restaurant critic, AA Gill, rarely extends his gastronomic tentacles beyond central London.  So I was surprised to see that he had, according to a poster at Piccadilly rail station, nominated San Carlo in MANCHESTER as the best Italian restaurant outside the capital.  Surprised not only because he had ventured so far north as to get the apocryphal nosebleed, but also because San Carlo is far from the best resto of any type anywhere.

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I have never been to the Ritz.  This maybe because I can’t afford it, or it could equally be because, to enjoy the Ritz fayre, I would have to bypass The Wolseley, right next door at 160 Piccadilly.  This is something I have not yet achieved.

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