Quaglino’s, the vampire brasserie

Quaglino’s is an ancient subterranean brasserie in St James’s, a district clinging to the 18th century with cadaverous fingers. It was founded in 1929 by -Giovanni Quaglino, who once wrote a book called The Complete Hostess; do not buy a haddock that weighs over 2lbs, he counsels, among other things. Quaglino’s is called a ‘grande dame’ by the sort of critic who confuses ‘grande’ with louche. Quaglino’s initially catered to posh idiots who thought they were ‘edgy’ because they listened to jazz during the abdication crisis. The Queen came once — the first time a reigning monarch had dined at a restaurant — and Princess Margaret repeatedly, but the Queen did not return; louche, then.

Quaglino’s slid and was resuscitated by Terence Conran in 1993 with an ‘altar of crustaceans’, cigarette girls — yuk! — and notorious ‘Q’ ash-trays repeatedly stolen by customers; now it is resuscitated again by a conglomerate called D&D, which owns restaurants called things like Iconic (Japan) and Plateau (Canary Wharf). Quaglino’s is, therefore, a vampire restaurant near Piccadilly, which I like because Count Dracula, ever the postcode snob, had a ‘malodorous’ house at 347 Piccadilly; and here is his local, a brasserie that won’t die.

We pass a doorman, a bullied species of macho forced into fancy dress, and go down the first of two stair-cases. At the bottom is a bar with animal-skin chairs, which may be fake, red leather foot stools, and a gas fire with tiny flames overlooking the dining room; then another staircase, which is famous, because people think they are watched as they descend. They are mad to do so — who looks at other people now that iPhones exist? Busby Berkeley is dead and he will not return.