The food is almost too superb: Wild Honey reviewed

Wild Honey is a ludicrous name for this restaurant: there is nothing wild about it, and I do not think that is even its intention. Rather, it is a cloistered, almost sombre restaurant in the grandest part of the West End, almost opposite the Athenaeum Club, whose goddess, I fancy, is weeping metal tears. I depend on old maps of London. They offer perspective and consolation, and I know this part was once marshland from the River Tyburn on its way from Hampstead to Westminster. Now it is Pall Mall and Wild Honey lives in one of its palest, grandest buildings: it glows like a slightly restrained Versailles, signifying power and brickwork. It was once home to the royal printers, a bank, and what became, in its pomp, Aviva insurance. Now it is Sofitel London St James, a name that is simply gobble-degook.

Deepest tourist-land, then, of the kind that calls St James’s ‘a neighbourhood’ on Trip-Advisor.