One of the perks of being a director of a hotel is visiting and eating at the competition. The idea is to taste, look and learn. On this mission, and on the instructions of our chairman, the managing director of the Devonshire Arms Country House Hotel at Bolton Abbey in Yorkshire and I met for lunch in one of the most famous restaurants in London. The Devonshire Arms is the proud possessor of a Michelin star, so the managing director and his chef know a thing or two about the job. As I seldom go to London, it is an excitement to see what’s what in the fashionable world.
I have known the chosen restaurant for many years, but I am so stuck in my ways that I was surprised by the changes I found since I last ate there. There is a black-trouser-clad lady greeter, a new role in the restaurant. She was one of the few females to be seen as the place soon filled up with men, a good omen for the quality of the food (and for the size of the bill). The arrangement of the tables is ideal, as in a railway carriage with high divisions so that the booming voices of the confidant customers discussing business and sport are contained. The decor is brown and beige and more brown. The lighting is perfect. Full marks for that, as it is the hardest thing to get right. The plates are a normal size, none of those huge oval platters like dog dishes that put you off eating anything. Every table was taken.
The charming head waiter (French? Italian?) answered our questions very politely. How many covers? Is there a private room? He may have smelt a rat and guessed that we were from one of the many magazines which describe places to eat, or perhaps he just thought we were naturally curious country bumpkins on an outing.
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