A sneak behind the curtain at The Wolseley, even if it was just in an article read in Country Life was enough to drive my husband to making a breakfast reservation well in advance of our trip. It was almost as if he had no choice once he read the words "Sujin, the tourier, arrives. She is the risen-pastry maker, and there are very few of them left in professional kitchens."
Before we had even stepped foot off Canadian soil he had perused the menu and decided on Kedgeree as his main and to start the cannelés Bordelais. I myself knew that I would have to try the marmalade which is made on the premise but left the rest open to how I felt in the moment.
When we walked through the doors of The Wolseley I half expected to get a sense of some the hustle and bustle eluded to in the article. To sense some of the busyness of the under belly of the place, but once through the doors you are too busy admiring the beautiful domed ceiling, the mirrors hanging on the walls, the gigantic chandelier and the pastries to get a sense of anything else. It was hard to imagine that back in the 1920's this beautiful establishment was a prestigious car showroom.
Just like a well built car, everything about The Wolseley feels luxurious and appears effortless. Our waiter arrived without a sound as if on cushioned shoes. Our order was taken and we were left to continue admiring the views that surrounded us. From the black and white tiled floor, to the pastry table that looked like it was awaiting it's photoshoot.
The tea arrived, loose leaf of course, in a gorgeous silver tea pot that looked as if it had just been polished before it arrived at our table. I knew at that moment I was falling in love with the place. And then out came the fresh croissant with the in-house made jam and I felt my knees go weak just looking at the spoons, not having even tasted the jam.
Our meals were amazing and at the end we walked out onto Piccadilly, me still pining for the silver tea strainer but knowing that the real gift was in the experience itself.