Wiltons

Wiltons Review

Aristos, blue bloods, and the extremely well-to-do blow the family bank at this old-fashioned bastion of English fine dining on pedigreed Jermyn St. (the place first opened on the Haymarket as a shellfish stall in 1742). Invariably fresh from a little snooze in their nearby St. James's gentlemen's clubs, male diners are required to wear jackets at all times at this clubby time capsule and frightfully snooty ode to all things English. Signet ring-wearing posh patrons like to take half-a-dozen finest Colchester oysters, followed by grilled Dover sole on the bone, or fabulous native game in season, such as grouse, woodcock, partridge or teal. There are long-forgotten savories like anchovies or mushrooms on toast, plus nursery desserts like sherry trifle and bread and butter pudding. Service, naturally, would put Jeeves to shame.