Guests know exactly what to expect when they go to Rules. Its website reminds visitors that not only is it the “oldest restaurant in London” but that it “serves traditional British food.” Your reviewer had not been in over 25 years, but no part of the experience was markedly different. Think of Rules less as a tourist trap for those on an olde England nostalgia trip and more as an institution that has, and will continue, to endure.
The precise charm of Rules is that it does not change. How many restaurants in London still have carpet on the floor, or hunting prints adorning the walls? Drinkers can enjoy beer from a pewter tankard and consume oysters, similar to when Thomas Rule first opened a restaurant on the spot in 1798. The venue is a rabbit warren of different rooms. Ensconced somewhere in a dark corner, it might even be possible to forget which year you were in, particularly since Rules now remains open from lunch through until dinner, allowing for potential afternoons of discreet drinking.
This was not the format for your reviewer’s recent visit. He and his dining comrade were shown by a front-of-house exuding just the right amount of British warmth to a corner table in the main dining room. While perusing the menus we could admire the décor (check the taxidermy too). Game is a must at Rules, with much of it sourced from the restaurant’s own estate. Our server – naturally dressed in a traditional black and white outfit – steered us towards the grouse, which was in season. My comrade acquiesced. Your reviewer chose guinea fowl.
First came our starters: a salad of Dorset crab, and another comprising roast beetroot and goat’s curd. Innovative the menu is not (potted shrimps and steak and kidney pie are listed among the other options), but the quality is evident. Chefs who work at Rules know that they need to adhere to tradition and yet still serve guests with high expectations. Without this formula, the restaurant may have closed many years ago. We could not fault any of our dishes. The crab salad had a pleasing peppery tingle and a well-balanced dressing. The guinea fowl main (pictured) was superb, with mushroom purée and charred leeks proving excellent foils to the gamey meat. My dining comrade kindly let me taste a mouthful of her grouse. It comfortably held its own against a recent iteration enjoyed at the Wolseley.
Everything was delivered with a flourish of grace and charm – professionalism at its best. Rules may put on a performance for its guests, but any venue that’s been doing it for this long makes it seem natural. Of course, guests do have to pay up for the experience, but at £100+/head (with a carafe of wine and coffees), pricing is consistent with other nearby London venues. Long may the tradition endure.