Quo Vadis, W1D 3LL, London: If You’ve Not Been in the Past 100 years, Go Now

By Connie Say

If you were to get to know me, you’d find out rather quickly that I’m not much of a lunch person. To me, the afternoon, and by extension: lunch, is defeatist. It gets in the way. Lunch is defined by wraps, soups, and hula hoops. It’s less optimistic than breakfast, and less fantastical than dinner. 

And yet, where there is a deeply unjustified rule, one may find an exception. 

‘Lunch’ as a noun derives from the word ‘luncheon’, which describes a formalised mid-day meal. Both words rear their heads in the 16th-century; respectively describing a hunk, or thick piece of food. So no wonder I always felt a bit put out when my 21st century lunches were always very average. If the etymological roots of the word ‘lunch’ describe a hunk of food, a feast no less, then perhaps that’s where I should return to: to lunch primitivism; to make the most out of this midday meal. 

And so I went to Quo Vadis, and I realised what Lunch could be. To limit yourself at Quo Vadis, would be like going to Glastonbury with ear-defenders on. What on earth are you doing, denying yourself of all these wonders, in a place that is so wonderful? 

It was the first day of May, and I wandered up Dean Street with my dining companion, my Mother, Mary. Facing onto Dean Street, with Soho Square to your left and the Nellie Dean to your right, the first thing one will see is the black and white striped awning of Quo Vadis, and on the restaurant’s flag, the 20th century zine style drawings by John Broadley. The white Soho standard flaps in the wind and hangs on the outward walls, waving unto the street below, with a design of an eel (of sandwich fame) swirled and curled around the leg of Karl Marx (who lived upstairs at the address at one point in time).

Quo Vadis has shape shifted over time. From a former Soho brothel, to a bona fide institution, the restaurant has moved through the various capable hands of Pepino Leoni, to Marco Pierre White, to now: The Hart Brothers, with Jeremy Lee taking over as Chef Proprietor in 2012.

Taken from his Instagram: On the right is the fabulous Jeremy Lee MBE, Chef Proprietor at Quo Vadis. 

Mary and I landed at the restaurant. We sat outside and ordered some cocktails. I had a caipirinha, and Mary had a negroni. Both were delicious. I would recommend coming to Quo Vadis even if just for a drink on the street-facing seats. It will be some of the best people-watching in the world.

The maître d’ brought us inside when our table was ready, and we were guided through a tight corridor which revealed a desk with coats and bags behind. Once inside the dining room, we were shown to our table. Linen cafe curtains sheltered you from the storm, the white table clothes were pulled flush, and the cutlery twinkled and shimmered, all to a backwash of marvellous reds. If this is lunch, then perhaps I could be converted. 

We ordered starters. I had grilled figs with a goat’s cheese curd, seasonal ‘greenery’ (that being pea shoots and mint), walnuts, and a basil oil. The cheese was salty and smooth, the walnuts had a creaminess, and the oil and mint were fragrant and fresh. Mary had smoked mackerel with greens and potatoes. All elements were vibrant, testament to the ingredients’ freshness and seasonality. As well as these two starters, we shared another plate. It was something I had my sights set on since I made the booking. The smoked eel sandwich.

Starters, eel, wine

“Sweet Jesus”, Mary said. I walked her back from the ledge, assuring her that this was the thing to come for. So it was ordered. Two buttered and fried poilâne slices sat top to toe, framing the hunks of meaty, smokey, buttery eel. The horseradish cream gave it balmy heat, and the pickled onions sang like sopranos, bright and acidic. I wedged the soured ribbons of onion into the nooks of the sandwich. It was like the most delicious miniature vision of dry stone walling. It was just meant to go together. And let’s just say, I wasn’t exactly swerving it. 

Then for mains. I had the poached chicken – it was a generous size, and came with carrots, peas, and chicken broth, with lashing of aioli on the side. It was like your Grandmother had gone to Le Cordon Bleu for a fortnight, and then came back and did a belter of a Sunday roast. Mary had monkfish with courgettes and a herb sauce. Both of these mains were special and singular, without at all trying too hard. I’d had my socks knocked off by the starters, eel, and the wine, and then I was made to feel very at ease by the mains. I think that’s an important distinction. There’s a time and a place for theatrics and El Bulli-esk spherification. But I certainly feel that there is a time and place for a restaurant that is straightforward and leaves you feeling full and merry. You can have a really special celebratory dinner at Quo Vadis. You could also come in by yourself for a two-piece set menu and feel not at all out of place. 

Quo Vadis is 100 years old this year, but is still incredibly culturally relevant. I think when a restaurant has been open that long, it can go one of two ways. It can either become a slightly caricatured version of itself. Or, it’s remained open because they move with the times. Because they are revered and adored, and because they appeal to each new generation. Quo Vadis falls into the latter category. It has the slickness and self-assurance of places like St John’s or French House. It also has a buzziness and excitement akin to newer spots like Kiln or Gymkhana. That sweet, sweet middley bit. 

Quo Vadis has remained unshakable in their older age. The team has found a formula that works. Simplicity, Seasonality, and impeccable Service. 

The Quo Vadis signage

With no room for desert (alas!), we settled up the bill and went on our way. We retrieved our coats from behind the counter and walked back to Tottenham Court Road station… green with envy for the people that were sitting under the awning, smoking and sipping their pre dinner cocktails, yet to eat. 

I read somewhere once, that the mornings and the evenings were created by God and that the afternoon was created by Satan. By extension, breakfast and dinner were made by God, and lunch was etc. etc. I used to agree with this statement. But I’ve been converted. 

Lunch can be a wonderful thing. I still think it sort of gets in the way, but an afternoon at Quo Vadis – one that is ceremonious and feastly – is something to stop for. 

Here’s to a hundred more, Quo Vadis.

***

For two people: £228 incl/ service charge