It may be set down at the outset that there are no restaurants in London equal to Delmonico’s in Fifth avenue, or the Café Savarin in the Equitable Building, New York, and no London restaurant serves a table d’hôte dinner at any price equal in quality and style of service to that furnished at the select and elegant “Cambridge,” Fifth avenue and 33d street, New York.
Neither is there a restaurant of the third class that will compare with Mouquin’s, in Ann street, where everything is cooked to a turn, and where even a fastidious gourmet need not find fault. There are two or three Italian places in Regent street where they serve a “Chateaubriand,” enough for two persons, for one dollar, but nowhere do you get a dish of maccaroni that is more palatable than at Mouquin’s, and neither in London nor Paris do you get as good Burgundy for the price as Mouquin’s beaujolais—half bottle, forty cents.
The foreign halls are more richly gilded, and the furniture is of finer texture, but if you are looking for as good food and as well served at that at Mouquin’s, at Mouquin’s prices, you will look in vain.
In the price of wines, however, no first-class hotel or restaurant anywhere that I know of sells wines as low as the manager of the Hotel del Monte, Monterey, Cal. In France, on the Swiss border, I found vin ordinaire almost as cheap as water, in the small inns. The Hotel del Monte, please bear in mind, is a superbly appointed and grand establishment, and they serve you a half bottle of good California Zinfandel for fifteen cents. But then this hotel company own their own vineyards, and make no profit on wine served at table. It is a sort of “sample” or advertisement for their wines.
“The Aerated Bread Shops,” which are as “thick as flies” in London, are probably good enough places to drop into if you are in a great hurry, for a cup of coffee or cocoa and a roll or piece of dry, digestible seed cake. If you abhor marble tables, if you must have a serviette and you would avoid a crowd and mixed company, keep out of the “aerated bread shops,” and by the same token and by all means keep out of the Lockhart lunch shops. The “aerated bread shops” are tolerable; the others are not.
Much more worthy of patronage than aerated bread shops or Lockhart’s lunch shops is the confectionery and cake counter of William Buszard, 197 and 199 Oxford street, where everything is clean and inviting. A similar place of the first-class is that in “the city” of Alfred Purssell & Co., No. 80 Cornhill, E. C. The proprietor of this establishment is related to the late William Purssell, founder of the famous restaurant in Broadway which still bears his name. There are several pleasant places in and near Piccadilly where you may obtain a cup of tea or cocoa and a dainty sandwich, just enough to “stay the appetite.” One of the best of these is Callard’s, 146 New Bond street, but even in this neat and clean little shop they don’t know what a serviette is.
Romano’s, called “The Vaudeville,” 399 Strand, is recommended for its moderate charges, but this is a place I have never tried. So much for the confectioners and the cheap restaurants.
The Tivoli restaurant, up stairs, connected with the Tivoli Music Hall, is in the Strand, just East of Charing Cross. “La Haute Cuisine Française,” as they term it, is in charge of a famous chef, M. Gerard. A Table d’Hôte Luncheon, at 2s. 6d., from 12 to 3; Parisian dinner, at 5s., from 6 to 9, served in the Flemish Room.
Londoners are proud of their Holborn Restaurant, 218 High Holborn, where the glass and the brass and the marble columns are resplendent and imposing, and where you are regaled with vocal music (English glees) during the dinner hour, but the meals are not daintily served: the butter is not cold, and the plates are not warm, and unless you order a costly meal at the Holborn Restaurant, the waiter may wait on you with condescension. Dinner, three-and-six.