Tom Parker Bowles & Olly Smith

Eating out

For reliable, old-school seafood, Tom heads to a quiet street in London’s West End

There’s something deeply reassuring about Bentley’s, that Piccadilly shrine to all things piscine. Proof that times may change, but spirit is eternal.

Over a hundred years of history certainly helps, sitting in the same West End backstreet, in the same Victorian home. A place seasoned with the briny ghosts of a million shucked oysters; the eternal echo of popped corks and well-oiled gossip, of deals done, affairs whispered and friendships fed and watered.

But like all centenarians, the restaurant has had its share of ups and downs. By the start of the new millennium, the place seemed tatty, tired and living on glories long since past. Not so much destination as simply lost. Then, chef Richard Corrigan took over and gave this once grande dame a whole lot of love. And a few quid, too. Gradually, a weary shuffle transformed into a joyous skip. And Swallow Street soared once more. 

God only knows how many times I’ve slipped, alone, under that green neon sign, through the thick curtains and on into the ground floor, with its booths and two marble-topped bars. An escape from the Regent Street inferno, a Christmas-shopping salve, far from the maddening crowd. Take a book, or a paper, or just a healthy appetite, and climb on to a stool, ordering something dry and white and cold.

Oysters next, beautifully shucked, the flesh cut from the muscle for easy slurping, and never a whisper of errant grit. In season, natives, always natives. A dozen West Mersea, a taste as primeval as the tides, as pure as ocean spray. Loch Ryans too, sweet and slyly nutty. Plus rocks, Jerseys and Carlingfords, not simply the brash and base cousin, rather another variety of bivalve delight, bracing as a sea breeze. At Bentley’s, one is most definitely fun.

Thanks, though, to these dumb and mendacious Covid regulations, with their disdain for figures and plain common sense, inside dining is more a bore. But Bentley’s has adapted. And you can eat outside, heated and covered, safe from chill and rain. Which I did, and have done, and will do, eating chargrilled Dover sole, immaculately fresh and immaculately cooked, the flesh still taut and pert. With fistfuls of chips, hot, crisp and salty, dunked into Béarnaise sauce. This blissful simplicity doesn’t come cheap. But in these strange and troubled times, what price delight?  

Bentley’s Oyster Bar & Grill, £35 to £70 a head, 11-15 Swallow Street, London W1; bentleys.org

Drinks: Olly’s wines with turkey 

Mellow reds are brilliant for crowning the Christmas table. If it’s a bargain you seek, Tesco Bulgarian Merlot (12.5%) is a proper gem for £4.50. While I’ve always enjoyed Rioja Reserva, this year it’s time to choose bold reds that thrill – whatever the budget. And, whisper it, a rich white wine can be beautiful with turkey, especially alongside fruity stuffing. Whatever you’re sipping, I raise my glass to you this Christmas. Cheers!