The Ritz London

The Ritz begins with ceremony. Its Grade II listed interiors offer the full old-world promise — gilded detail, polished service and a dining room that makes an ordinary Tuesday feel briefly historic. The dress code is formal, but the atmosphere is not hostile; champagne and canapés set an easy, celebratory tone before dinner proper. This is a restaurant that knows its own symbolism, and there is real pleasure in submitting to it for an evening, particularly when the room is glowing and the tables are properly dressed.

The cooking follows the house’s classical instincts. Langoustine, raviola, turbot and sweetbread are treated with technical care, while Crepe Suzette and the petit fours provide the expected flourish at the end. The strongest plates are polished and beautifully presented, with sauces and garnishes doing what they should. Yet the experience can sometimes feel more broadly luxurious than deeply personal, as if the idea of The Ritz is doing as much work as the kitchen. It is excellent, though not every moment feels singular.

Service is formal, fluent and impressively well rehearsed. The price is substantial, and the occasion asks for a degree of theatrical surrender, but the evening delivers the ceremony it promises. The Ritz remains a remarkable room in which to eat, particularly when the champagne is flowing and the classic dishes land at their best. It is not the most intimate meal in London, but it understands the persuasive force of grandeur — and, with the right company, that can still be a very good reason to book.