The luxury dinner, composed from the first glass to the car at the kerb
A dinner at this level is composed rather than choreographed. The host's decisions, taken in order, from naming the purpose to holding the car door, for four hours that never feel arranged.
Decide what the dinner is for
Every well composed dinner begins with a sentence you say only to yourself. It might be: I want to celebrate a signed contract. Or: I want to forget a difficult week. Or simply: I want good company at a good table in a city where I know nobody. That sentence decides everything after it, the room, the hour, the length, and even which companion Octavia suggests.
Write it to her when you ask. A celebration wants a room with some glamour and a companion who enjoys a toast. A week to forget wants a quiet corner, a slower pace and someone who listens more than she talks. Neither is better. They are different evenings, and the difference is worth stating at the start rather than discovering at the table.
The sentence also settles the hour. A celebration can start late and run towards midnight. A quiet dinner after a long day is best begun at seven and finished by ten, while the streets outside are still lively enough to make the walk back a pleasure.
The first glass belongs somewhere else
Take the first drink in a different room from dinner. It is the simplest structural device in London dining, and it works because it gives the evening a hinge. The bar is where two people arrive and settle; the table is where they talk. Keeping them apart lets each do its own job.
In this corner of London the distances are kind. The Donovan Bar at Brown's, the Rivoli at The Ritz and the bar at Dukes are all within ten minutes' walk of the best tables in Mayfair and St James's. Forty minutes and one drink is enough. The point is the hinge, not the cocktail list.
A table you can talk across
A luxury dinner is judged by the conversation rather than the plates, so choose the room by its acoustics before its reputation. Some of the most celebrated dining rooms in London are loud by design; they suit a party of eight, not two people finding their way into each other's company. When you book, ask for a corner, a banquette or a booth, and for a time either side of the busiest sitting.
A few rooms in this quarter manage quiet especially well. Wiltons on Jermyn Street, with its booths and heavy linen. Scott's on Mount Street, where the tables along the walls are more private than those in the centre. Hide, whose upper floor looks out over Green Park from Piccadilly. The Restaurant at The Ritz, which is grand without ever being loud.
Book in your own name, for two. Your companion's name never needs to appear on a reservation.
Ordering without an audience
Tasting menus are a pleasure and a trap. Twelve courses, each introduced at length, leave little room for a sentence of your own. For a first dinner the carte is usually kinder: three courses, chosen by each of you, with the pauses in between belonging to the table rather than the kitchen.
Let your guest order first, and do not order on her behalf unless she invites it. Share a starter if the menu suggests one. Ask what is best this week, and take the advice.
Wine is simpler than it looks. One good bottle, chosen with the sommelier's help, serves two people through a long dinner better than a parade of glasses. Name a style you enjoy and a figure you are comfortable with, quietly, and then let the professional do the choosing.
The long middle
Four hours is the length this house recommends for dinner, and at £1,800 it appears as a line of its own among our rates. Guests who book three hours for a dinner often wish they had booked four; guests who book four rarely notice the time at all. A first drink, a properly paced dinner, a walk and a nightcap fill it without a single glance at a watch.
The middle of dinner is where an evening either deepens or stalls, and it is where a good companion earns her place. She notices when a subject is spent. She follows a story to its end before offering one of her own. She knows when to fill a pause and when to let it rest. None of this should be visible, and at this level none of it is.
Ending on the pavement
The last ten minutes of an evening are remembered longest, so compose them as carefully as the first. Settle the restaurant bill discreetly before the coffee is finished, so you leave when you choose and not when a folder arrives. Ask the doorman for a car a few minutes early. If the night is dry and the hotel close, walk: the streets between Piccadilly and Jermyn Street are at their best after eleven, lit and nearly empty.
Where the evening ends is agreed in advance, never negotiated on the kerb. Your companion knows the plan from Octavia's confirmation: goodnight at the restaurant door, a nightcap at your hotel bar, or a last hour back at your suite. Should you want the evening to run longer, message Octavia before the four hours are out; she will confirm what is possible, and the figure, in writing before anything changes.
Companions who make a table
Bianka will question the wine list on your behalf and cheerfully overrule the obvious choice, usually to your advantage. Laura, happiest at an Italian table in Mayfair, has a way of turning dinner into a travel plan by dessert. Both are brunettes, and both are often introduced for the luxury dinner companion evening. For a companion in her thirties with an auctioneer's eye for a room, ask Octavia about Margo. And for a table by a window, Cindy, one of our blondes, will ask for one at Hide and watch the light leave Green Park course by course.
When you are ready, send Octavia the date, the restaurant and the sentence from the top of this page through booking. She will do the rest.
Asked after reading
You, as host, in most cases. If you would like a suggestion, say so to Octavia; your companion may well have a favourite room nearby and is happy to propose it.
Yes. Private dining in a suite, with the hotel's kitchen sending up each course, makes a very good evening, particularly on a first night after a long flight.
Entirely. Many guests do, and a good companion is an intelligent listener. She will simply make sure the evening never turns into a meeting.