The square and its pull
Berkeley Square is not large, and its plane trees, planted in 1789, are older than almost everything that faces them. Yet on any evening in W1 it exerts a pull out of all proportion to its size, and most of that pull comes from one address. Mark Birley opened Annabel's in 1963 in the basement of number 44, a William Kent house celebrated for its staircase, and named the club after his wife. In 2018 it moved into the whole of number 46, two doors along, past the house at number 45 where Clive of India died, and the legend of the old basement travelled with it.
Only members, and the guests they sign in, pass through the door of Annabel's, and the Society holds no memberships, so the club itself is a matter for the member in your party. What anyone can do is dine within a few minutes of its door. The streets leading out of the square hold a remarkable density of good tables, and the choice among them comes down chiefly to direction.
North east: Bruton Street and Bruton Place
Leave by the north east corner and Bruton Street runs towards New Bond Street, with Bruton Place curling behind it as a cobbled mews. This is the quietest of the four directions and the one best suited to a first dinner. The mews holds Bellamy's, a brasserie of starched linen and long serving waiters; Umu, whose kaiseki menus reward a guest with patience; and The Guinea Grill, a pub whose grill room has been feeding Mayfair steak and pies for generations.
On Bruton Street itself, Hakkasan's Mayfair room is darker, more glamorous and considerably louder. It suits the second half of an evening better than the first, when the conversation no longer needs protecting.
South: Berkeley Street towards Piccadilly
Berkeley Street drops from the bottom of the square to Piccadilly, and it is the lively direction. Novikov, Park Chinois and Nobu stand within a couple of hundred yards of one another, each full until late, each with a bar where parties wait for their tables in good humour. These are rooms for a second or third evening together, when talk comes easily and a little theatre around the table adds to it rather than drowning it.
At the foot of the street Piccadilly offers the opposite register. Hide faces Green Park from across the road, and the restaurant at The Ritz lies a few minutes to the east, where gentlemen are still expected in a jacket and tie and the room repays the effort.
West: Charles Street and the lanes
Charles Street leaves the square heading west through some of the handsomest Georgian houses in Mayfair. It holds Mark's Club, another Birley house and strictly private, and The Only Running Footman, a pub with a dining room upstairs whose name remembers the liveried runners who once cleared a path in front of a nobleman's coach. A short walk north, Farm Street keeps The Punch Bowl a few doors from the Jesuit church.
This is the direction for a supper that is deliberately unpretentious: a pie, a good bottle and nobody watching, before a late drink somewhere grander. The walk back to the square takes three minutes.
North west: Mount Street
Mount Street begins at the square's north west corner and runs all the way to Park Lane, a parade of shops by day and one of the best dining streets in London by night. Scott's, with its crustacea bar and its window tables, remains the old favourite. The Audley, a Victorian pub restored by the founders of an art gallery, keeps a restaurant on its upper floor, and Mount Street Gardens, tucked behind the church, is the place to sit for ten minutes before dinner on a warm evening.
Keep walking and The Connaught appears at the corner of Carlos Place, with Grosvenor Square a minute beyond. A dinner here can end with a nightcap at any of three great hotel bars without anyone calling a car.
Timing an evening around number 46
The square keeps a rhythm after dark that is worth using. Tables at half past seven fill with people who intend to move on at ten, while the second sittings along Berkeley Street run long past eleven. A dinner at eight in Bruton Place, a stroll under the plane trees to the far side of the square at half past ten and a last glass somewhere quieter is the classic shape of an evening here, and it needs no driver at all.
For members with a table booked at the club later on, dining a few doors away is the obvious plan. For everyone else, how the district's members' clubs treat guests sets out the workings of its doors, and what a companion may and may not do as your guest.
Two who know the square
Luna lives in Mayfair and treats its sommeliers as old acquaintances; she is likely to begin among the wine racks on Davies Street and walk you to a table that welcomes a bottle she chose herself. Angelika prefers a noisier room, keeps the stamina of a tennis player and would happily finish the evening in a jazz basement. Luna's hair is a dark auburn red; Angelika belongs with the toned and athletic women on the roster.
Most evenings around Berkeley Square take the four hours of the dinner date, and a first message through booking naming the restaurant is enough for Cressida to begin. The note on the dinner date at VIP level covers the rest of the preparation.
Asked at the table
Only as a member's guest, invited and signed in by that member. The Society holds no memberships and cannot arrange entry anywhere; if you are a member, she follows the club's rules exactly as any guest would.
One of the quieter rooms in Bruton Place, or a pub dining room on Charles Street, where two voices carry across the table without effort. Keep the louder rooms of Berkeley Street for a later evening.
About ten minutes on foot along Curzon Street or Mount Street, and less by car. From Green Park station the walk takes around five minutes.
Written by Cressida, Membership secretary at Berkeley Square Society. To turn any of this into an evening, write to the desk.
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