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Add Texture to GoogleThe ballet unfolds with almost military precision. A squad of waiters swoops down on the table, arms folded in a tight formation, to begin carving a Dover sole. One of them breaks away from the group to portion out the carrots and peas, while another tilts a silver sauceboat draped with a napkin to release a thin stream of dill sauce, forming a perfect little puddle on the plate. This spectacle, at once anachronistic and hypnotic, takes place at Oslo Court, a true institution in St John’s Wood, London. Here, lunch feels like a state visit. The restaurant champions a way of life that many thought was a thing of the past: French-style service, where you’ll never be asked to scan a QR code to see the daily menu. With a very dry, very “dirty” martini in hand, you watch this choreography unfold with a mix of amazement and immediate pleasure.
By today’s modern standards, the Oslo Court’s hospitality should have faded away—at best becoming a curiosity for the nostalgic, at worst a dusty parody of a bygone era. Yet, as an impeccable waiter refills a glass I hadn’t even noticed I’d emptied, the conclusion is clear: the experience is fabulous. The restaurant, moreover, seems to attach no importance to what the outside world thinks of its dining room management. When Tony and José Sánchez took over this restaurant nestled on the ground floor of an Art Deco building in 1982, they chose to plant their heels firmly in the thick pink carpet and politely decline any invitation to join “the future.” While the London scene was exhausting itself chasing after competing concepts of modernity, the Oslo Court’s dessert cart continued on its merry way, undeterred.
The Revenge of Silverware on Minimalism
The persistence of this model is fascinating. The Oslo Court weathered the era of the River Café’s casual chic in the 1990s, the wave of large communal tables à la Ottolenghi in the 2000s, and then the post-recession trend toward simplifying interactions between servers and guests. Ultimately, it was the city itself that made a 180-degree turn. Today, London is returning to the Oslo Court, dressed in its finest, only to be asked deferentially: “Would the gentleman care for another martini?” ” This resurgence of formal service is not an isolated case. The hallmarks of this classic hospitality have become so ubiquitous again that one must now check the dress code before every night out.
White tablecloths are making a strong comeback. Sommeliers—whom some predicted would become extinct—are now among the fastest-growing professions on job search platforms. The buzz is visible everywhere: at 45 Jermyn St, caviar and beef Wellington are served on rolling side tables. At Maison François, the craze for the dessert cart has been so intense that it now has a little brother dedicated to steak tartare. And how could we not mention Simpson’s in the Strand? The return of its master carvers, working with surgical precision, has been met with unprecedented critical acclaim. This return to tradition is all the more ironic given that, barely ten years ago, the most influential critics condemned these rituals as relics of an era the restaurant industry would do well to forget.
An internal conflict between nostalgia and progress
In 2014, the prevailing narrative celebrated the end of “haughty waiters, silent dining rooms, and starched tablecloths.” People spoke of progress and the democratization of taste, wondering why anyone would spend their money to support “battalions of waiters.” But this harsh rejection masked a more complex truth. Traditional British hospitality is intrinsically linked to a past marked by empire and social exclusion. Simpson’s, for example, barred women from its Grand Divan until 1984. It is therefore difficult to separate the pleasure of service from the class structure that gave rise to it.
This cultural oscillation between rejection and restoration betrays a deep unease. Instead of a genuine analysis of what service contributes to the human experience, British society seems to swing from one simplistic moral stance to another. Tablecloths are torn away to atone for the sins of the past, then reinstalled with a knowing nod to a bygone era. It is a neurotic cycle in which it is difficult to reconcile the pleasure of being served with the values of today’s society. We end up wondering if there isn’t another path—a way to preserve this craft without restoring the darkest social hierarchies.
The Lesson from New York: Service as a Craft
The answer may lie across the Atlantic. In New York, on East 60th Street, Le Veau d’Or reopened its doors in 2024. This nearly century-old bistro was taken over by Lee Hanson and Riad Nasr, the minds behind Frenchette and Le Rock. Like the Sánchez brothers in London, they approached this takeover from a management perspective rather than one of radical transformation. They resisted the temptation to reinvent everything, preserving the carmine-red banquettes, the offal-rich menu, and the sparkling Upper East Side service. What stands out here is the physical and mental presence of the staff—a confident hospitality that seems to stem from a culture where the issue of service is settled once and for all.
The American work system is certainly not without its flaws or historical inequalities, but it has pulled off a remarkable feat: separating the art of service from the class hierarchy it once reinforced. In New York, there is less guilt and more joy in carrying out one’s duties. You are cared for with immense attention, whether you’re on Park Avenue or in a remote corner of Tennessee, without ever implying that this makes you superior or diminishes the person providing the service. For professionals in the field, the pursuit of hospitality is an end in itself—a noble and commendable discipline.
This vision offers a refreshing perspective in the face of London’s hesitations. Rather than treating every new trend as an absolute moral correction of what came before, the New York example suggests that we can break the cycle. We can face our history head-on, with all its flaws, and decide once and for all what is worth preserving and passing on. Recognizing the technical and human value of attentive service—perhaps that is what true progress really is. Beyond the serving carts and silverware, it is the commitment to others that remains the only true constant. Service should no longer be viewed as servitude, but as a skill in the service of hospitality.
The post “A Tale of Two Cities: What Can London Learn from a New York Dinner Service?” first appeared on Monocle.