Restaurateur Jeremy King talks us through everything he loves about London, from eating at the Fat Badger in Notting Hill to relaxing at the Turkish baths at the Royal Automobile Club.
Home is …
Primrose Hill. Before that, Belgravia, although I thought of it as Victoria.
Where was your first flat in London?
Redcliffe Gardens, SW10, in 1973.
What was your first job?
By day, trainee merchant banker for Kleinwort Benson. By night? Bartender for Charcos Wine Bar on the King’s Road.
Where would you recommend for a first date?
Your favourite restaurant, where you are known best — no insecurity, no surprises.
I often stop at Primo Italian Provisions in Primrose Hill. My dog insists I mention it, because of the treats she gets
Which five shops do you rely on?
Can I have six? I use Connolly for clothing, apart from ties, which I get from Turnbull & Asser, and Volpe, the tailor on Pimlico’s Denbigh Street, to whom I go for tailored shirts. D R Harris I use for pharmaceuticals and bathroom goods; Heywood Hill for books. And I often stop at Primo Italian Provisions in Primrose Hill. My dog insists I mention it, because of the treats she gets.
What’s the best meal you’ve had?
It was at the Fat Badger in Notting Hill with my wife, Lauren, and art buyer Steven Murphy and his wife Annie. George Williams’ set meals are sublime — don’t forego the potatoes.
What would you do if you were Mayor for the day?
Ban negativity — although I suppose the problem with that is that it appears authoritarian … so if not, maybe I would sack all the traffic and parking departments and start again with the ethos that we want to encourage people into the West End rather than deter.
Who is the most iconic Londoner ?
In history? I suppose Samuel Johnson. These days? Paul Smith. Who’s also the nicest.
What’s the best thing a cabbie has ever said to you?
“Hello Mr King — to The Wolseley? I love your restaurant,” he said in the morning and when, extraordinarily, he picked me up again in the afternoon: “Hello Jeremy — I’ve just booked a table!”
Have you ever had a run in with a police officer?
Forty years ago I got out of my car in Trafalgar Square to confront a dangerous driver and when he wound down his window I accidentally poked him in the nose — honest! — only for him to reveal, as he swore at me, a car full of plain-clothes policemen. He said he was booking me for assaulting a police officer and that would f*** up the rest of my life. When I started to explain that I had only remonstrated because he was driving as if he was drunk — I realised he was — I said: “Although of course that couldn’t be true, could it? I will go to the station with you if you take a breathalyser …” His “mates” forced him back into the car and they drove away.
Where do you let your hair down?
The Turkish baths at the Royal Automobile Club.
Who do you call when you want to have fun?
Mr and Mrs James Seymour — the Mrs being Anya Hindmarch. They have a better grasp than me on how to have fun.
What’s your biggest extravagance?
My Timothy Everest suits, as well as my shirts and ties. And, I suppose, my car (a Bristol 411, of which fewer than 300 were ever produced).
What’s your London secret?
Postman’s Park, near Little Britain in the City.
What are you up to for work?
I’m enjoying Arlington and The Park, and pushing to get Simpson’s open early New Year — I’m a little distracted by a book that’s just been published…
See also: Wolseley founder Jeremy King wages war on Ozempic in new book
Who’s your hero?
Paul Smith — a model of modesty, faithfulness and proprietorial presence.
What do you collect?
Suits! I have 70. But also books (innumerable) and David Dawson’s photos of Lucian Freud, of which I have perhaps 20.
What’s your favourite work of art?
Outside the galleries? Michael Craig-Martin’s Rose, newly installed at The Park.
What was the last thing you googled?
Kathryn Bigelow’s film A House of Dynamite — my son Jonah is in it.
What’s your favourite grooming spot?
Josh Wood, if Greg Hill is available to do my hair, or Bastien Gonzalez at 11 Cadogan Gardens Hotel. He’s a supreme podiatrist; a restaurateur’s feet can get ugly.
As told to David Ellis
Without Reservation: Lessons from a Life in Restaurants by Jeremy King is out now (HarperCollins, £25)
