CORRIGANS
MAYFAIR
28 UPPER GROSVENOR STREET
LONDON
http://www.corrigansmayfair.co.uk/
At the door of very chic and serious Corrigan’s restaurant I was confronted by Mr. Snappy and Mrs. Snappy who stood like twinned sentries’ behind a small reception desk that might have well been columns and a great metal draw bridge.
The floor in front of me felt like a minefield and I wasn’t going to take a step forward with out their permission.
They had no idea who I was when I arrived, or what I wanted, but dressed smartly, with hand luggage, holding out my business card they both stared as if they had been interrupted, were slightly suspicious of outsiders or just plain menopausal.
The words were brief and they did not want to give my card to chef so I peered over his shoulder to glimpse into the classic room of browns and greens of an expensive interior.
Richard Corrigan is Irish and whom I imagine to be warm hearted, generous, twinkle eyed master of wit and charm but he obviously ignored those qualities when choosing the two Nazis on the restaurant door.
Richard’s web site is stylish, global, full of his many awards and easy to navigate and I was even more curious to learn about the man himself as there was something Manhattan and very sophisticated about it.
Many Irishman had become successful restaurateurs in NYC and like the Italians they mixed their native foods and recipes with some big, quality, memorable, expensive USA flair.
The Irish had a natural affiliation to the East Coast and blended in easily, found fellow souls, acceptance, and appreciation and made a lot of money.
It is a very ‘grown up’ restaurant where customers make alliances, proposed trade deals, appointed fund trustees, set up offshore companies while sampling London’s best. Discretion was everywhere.
On the website under the ‘shop’ category they offer a luxury picnic service with personal butler service, which could be a very exciting surprise al fresco lunch with the butler was there I wouldn’t even have to invite any troublesome guests…who ever argued with a butler?
It reminded me of Scotts on Mount St in the early days before the girls arrived with big handbags, sipping cocktails, hoping to be ‘snapped’ up by a rich man or photographed by the pap’s.
This was a secret world of fine whiskeys, dark leather chairs, thin spider webs in the table lamps and succulent roast Goosnargh duck.
Of course I could see they didn’t have Italian truffles on the menu but that was a mute point as leaving my card was a courtesy as taking theirs was to me and Richard does have very smart olive green and gold lettered cards.
“I need to celebrate something so I can return and feast on the Elwy Valley loin of lamb.” I said to myself as I took a card knowing the two guards on the door would not let me near the kitchen even if every dish were smothered in truffles.
I had a better chance in getting into his 200 acre private estate in Ireland if I had arrived unannounced via parachute” I chuckled as I trotted back out, crossed over to the sunny side of the street and headed towards the comparable warmth and ‘bon ami’ of Mayfair.
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