IT'S 1.30pm on Jermyn Street and lunch service at Wiltons (No 55) is in full swing. Over on the oyster bar, plump Pembrokeshire beauties recline on ice, as trays of lobster cocktail and sole meunière weave their way through the main dining room to velvet booths and the domed carving trolley glides between them, bearing salmon coulibiac. Every table is full. It's a scene that plays out every day at London's second-oldest restaurant (Wiltons defers to Rules, which got its licence 42 years earlier, in 1798), in spite of the dozens of newer, flashier options on its doorstep. At a time when so many restaurants are facing an existential struggle to fill seats, how has Wiltons managed to stay relevant?
The answer, according to director Jason Phillips, is never to chase relevance. 'We avoid following fads and there's no fanfare,' he says. 'We're simply unwaveringly focused on the quality of the ingredients.' If something is out of season-asparagus, for example-you won't find it on the menu and, although the kitchen is a fuss-free zone (no tweezering of micro-herbs), it prides itself on forensic attention to detail. 'For our Dover sole, we work with a supplier who we know will only sell us fish that weigh exactly 400g, so everyone knows exactly what they're getting.'
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