My best friend and I managed to get a booking at the newly redecorated Savoy for afternoon tea. It looks lovely, although smaller than I remembered, with sensational, orchid arrangements in fuchsia, purple and shocking pink. We perched on a deep sofa and comfortable wing chair. The waiter was clearly nervous, hovering over us anxiously, uncertain when to bring tea or champagne but terribly kind. He bore down on us with sandwiches and scones. Both were passable but nothing inventive or extraordinary. He assured us we could have as much of anything as we liked. We lingered, chatting about Abu Dhabi, Chloe handbags and all other life essentials. Then he came with a parade of cakes: white chocolate macaroon, pistachio cake, hazelnut torte. None was remarkable. It has to be worth getting fat over, and none of these were.
The cakes look good but disappointed.
As we sat, happily chatting away, a hostess in severe black interrupted us to say, “You only have this table for two hours. The next guests will arrive in ten minutes.” No apologies. Two minutes later a man came over and said the same thing. I began to wonder if security was going to remove us from our sofa. Then our poor waiter arrived, obviously embarrassed to his credit, to confirm that yes, we were being thrown out of the Savoy. No one mentioned a time limit to us when we made the reservation. How rude they were! From now on I’m boycotting the Savoy.
The whole point of afternoon tea is graciousness and leisure. The Savoy goes to the bottom of my list with mediocre food and appalling service.
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