Returning to the calm reassurance of the Wolseley is a joy-filled antidote to this unsettling time
On the last Saturday evening before indoor dining resumed, torrential rain revealed the frailties of eating outdoors. I watched guests huddle under awnings, driving rain diluting their primitivo. Stormy weather wasn’t enough to keep people – sanity teetering on the precipice thanks to this grinding lockdown – away from restaurants, but after a blustery month of precarious alfresco dining, it’s comforting to be enfolded once again in the pleasure of dining rooms and to step closer to our blithe pre-pandemic existence. So before I tackle the opening night of my own restaurant, I need to immerse myself in a cocoon of sanity and civility. I book into the Wolseley.
I am greeted by the long-serving sentinel, Mr Fennell. He has the sort of ease and affable banter that can’t be taught, and never fails to tell me how nice it is to see me. I’m sure he says that to everyone – still, flattery retains its soft power. Tonight it’s the grand reopening – clusters of diners unfurl as far as the eye can see, wait staff look as if they’re having a ball, and the surrounding tablescape looks like a stage set for a glitzy musical.
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