The art of lunch

If everything goes according to plan, we will soon emerge, blinking, back into the daylight of the physical world and the era of Zoom-only business discourse will be behind us – at least for the summer. Most exciting of all, we will be allowed to eat inside restaurants rather than shiver outside on the sliver of pavement that passes for a Mediterranean terrace and break bread without wearing thermals. How will we cope? Will we remember how to shake hands and embrace? Will we remember to put our trousers and skirts on and dress the lower half of our bodies as we venture out into the physical rather than virtual world of work? How will we feel about making small talk and spending an hour to achieve fifteen minutes of productive output after a year of transactional online interaction and optimal meeting efficiency? What will it be like not to get straight down to business?

Back in the real world, we will have to remember our manners. Pass the bread rolls. Pour the other person’s drink first, before our own. Remember to get up and actually walk out of the restaurant instead of gluing on a smile for the person across the table as we conclude our meeting and fumble for the Leave button on an imaginary mousepad on the tablecloth in front of us. The whole prospect is fraught with anxiety inducing issues we haven’t had to think about for ages. Time for a refresher in the art of lunching.

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It seems that no one has time for lunch anymore. A sandwich at the home desk and a bottle of Evian is what passes for a working lunch these days. Which is a crying shame because you can land much bigger deals and forge much better relationships by breaking bread properly with someone over lunch or dinner (or even breakfast) at a restaurant. Why? Because there is an intimacy about breaking bread together you cannot replicate in any other environment, virtual or otherwise. Over a starched white linen tablecloth people let their hair down. With a glass of wine in hand, they relax. In plain sight of a restaurant full of sensibly spaced guests and the Covidly compliant close-ish intimacy of a table for two, people are happy to bring you into their confidence. They may even let slip things they might otherwise remain tight lipped about elsewhere. It is not the alcohol talking; it is the peculiar alchemy and ambiance of eating and drinking and playing in a restaurant. And right now, the novelty.

If you decide to redeploy lunch, written here is the collected wisdom of the best lunchers I have dined with. Some are big names, others are anonymous, but they all knew how to make lunch both enjoyable and profitable. I hope their advice sets you up for the same this summer.

The Masterclass

I remember waiting for my guest at J. Sheekey’s. She was fashionably late. I am never late if I am host. At the table next to mine were two men – one, a fresh faced ingenue, a graduate trainee. The other, his boss – greying at the temples, pinstriped, pukka. A masterclass was occurring. A masterclass you rarely witness in public, especially nowadays.

“The cutlery is arranged in logical order: start on the outside and work inwards with every course. Your side plate is on the left. Hers is to your right. Don’t touch it. Now, the glasses.This one is for water, this for white wine, this for red. With me so far?”

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The lesson continued.

“When Annette arrives, stand up to greet her. I know her well, so I will kiss her on each cheek. She will then make eye contact with you. What should you do?”

“Make eye contact back, introduce myself and extend my hand to shake hers.”

“And then?”

“Er, sit down?” asked the protege, tentatively.

“Casually invite her to sit by gesturing towards her chair with your hand. When she sits down, you sit too.”

The master explained about the waiter. Which side he would serve from and what questions he would ask – water for the table, would you like to look at the wine list, shall I send the sommelier over, would you like an aperitif? They looked through the menu. The layout and each dish was explained.

“Avoid soup, crab in the shell and any form of spaghetti or tagliatelle. They are more likely to make a mess. And unless you really know what you are doing, if the waiter asks if you’d prefer the fish off the bone, say yes. It’s not difficult to fillet a fish, but if it’s your first time out, probably best not to do it with a million pound deal on the table. Make a dog’s breakfast of the fish and they may think you’ll do the same with their brief. As a rule, keep it simple – you’ll enjoy it more.”

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I listened in. This sort of learning at the shirt cuffs of your boss has gone out of vogue. The boss and his disciple, it transpired, had arrived a full hour ahead of the scheduled meeting time with their client. By the time she arrived, the theory was learned. Now came the practical. At the moment that their client arrived, so did mine so I was unable to keep full tabs on how the apprentice performed. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he was attentive and amusing. He wasn’t ungainly or gauche. He was even funny, judging by the easy laughter coming from their table. He chose the wine, which they had pre-agreed, and stuck to simple fare – nothing that could splatter his shirt or stain the tablecloth. Their guest sat with them both on her right and with the best view of the restaurant. One of the points they discussed before her arrival was seating. They wanted her to find it easy to slip away from the table if she needed to without being hemmed in by them both and they wanted to ensure she didn’t feel as if she was watching a tennis match at Wimbledon. If they had sat her between them both, she would have had to keep moving her head from one to the other to converse.

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Some people think that you should sit with the view out into the restaurant and let your guest sit opposite you – if you are on a table for two – so they are not distracted from what you are saying. To my mind, this makes you a bore. Be generous. Give your guest the view out into the restaurant so she or he can enjoy the sights and drama of this great place all the more. If your conversation isn’t good enough to hold his or her attention, well, seating them so they can only look at you won’t save the day. It will probably earn you their enmity for evermore. A good way to avoid this problem altogether is to choose restaurants with banquettes – especially the semi circular ones. That way you can all enjoy a view out into the restaurant and you can catch the waiter’s eye, which is always useful.

After the guest had left, and mine too, teacher and disciple remained seated to debrief on the lunch. How did the pupil feel it had gone? What had worked? What could have been better? The teacher had used a single, post card shaped card on which he had jotted down – in advance of the lunch – the main topics they needed to cover over the course of the meal. He had also written down very brief notes of what they all agreed during the hour and a half. The pupil had not done this and made a note to do so in the future. Or would have done if he’d thought to bring paper and pen.

How do you make sure the lunch pays for itself if you don’t know why you’re having it? Always plan what you need to cover, think about the likely reactions you might receive and how to respond so you can reach some sort of agreement. You may have an agenda, but don’t wear it too nakedly, bring it up too early or stick to it too rigidly. After all, this is lunch, not a Board meeting. In certain cultures, you never mention the business issue until coffee. Then it is legitimate to talk business because by then you have earned the right to discuss commerce having first taken care of the relationship. The relationship needs nurturing. Don’t stampede for the deal. You do not want to monopolise the conversation. Your guest has not come to hear a lecture. Or see your holiday snaps. Or sign on the dotted line before the first course arrives. Instead, ask them questions, enquire about what’s going on in their universe. Most people love talking. Let them. Be fascinated – most people are fascinating if you ask the right questions. They will, over the course of the lunch, tell you everything you need to know. But it takes time and patience to let everything come out. If you rush your fences, if you try to force the pace, you undo the magic of the art of lunch and the gates of trust will close.

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Lunch should be leisurely. Never rushed. A quick bite has its place, but normally for a single issue resolution. Or for the chance to touch base with someone and register continued thoughtfulness about them and their world. Of course, you could just have a coffee or a drink. But if you are going to the trouble of booking a table at a good restaurant, the meal needs time. You need time. But, crucially, they need time: to trust you, to take your measure, to build or rebuild the relationship between you. And time is something too many people don’t have or won’t give anymore. Which is why you book a table at a very good restaurant – somewhere your guest might not be able to get into normally, or somewhere new and making waves or somewhere you know they love. It provides an emotional reason to invest the time.

I book tables, not restaurants

Inveterate luncher and very successful PR guru

If you want to get into the best places, you need to think ahead. And you don’t want to arrive to find they have put you next to the kitchen doors or the loos. These are the worst tables in the whole restaurant. No one wants to sit at them. Do a recce. Pick your table. Talk with the Maitre d’ or head waiter. Enquire if they will be working on your appointed day of arrival. The maitre d’ at Sale Pepe in Knightsbridge is brilliant at this; he greets you with “Mr. Kean, so nice to see you again…” and makes everyone, even first timers, feel like old friends. All he has to do is look at the booking as you check in your coat. If you leave this stuff to chance, it could ruin your experience. Get it right – and a good maitre d’ will help you get it right – and you’re off to a flying start. The alternative is to book a regular table at the same restaurant. During the heady wining and dining days of 1980s London Adland, notables such as Peter Mead and Martin Boase had a table at that darling of the media class, Langan’s Brasserie in Mayfair. At the time, it was very fashionable and the whole advertising industry went there. It is still great fun and lively – very popular with those who like old school restaurants with a relaxed vibe. It was a good place to be seen and to see.

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Saatchi and Saatchi, then in Fitzrovia, had a fleet of black cabs parked all the way along Charlotte Street by late morning, ready to ferry their Account Managers to restaurants all over London to wine and dine clients and prospective clients. Each lunchtime would have cost the company £2500 in restaurant bills. But each lunchtime would also have brought in hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of new projects, new opportunities to pitch, positive PR in trade magazines and national newspapers and bolstered their reputation within the client community. And spread London with stories and spin about the fortunes of the world’s most famous advertising agency. So much so that in a competition for London’s ad agencies to advertise themselves where the medium for the competition was the massive screen on Piccadilly Circus, Saatchi & Saatchi ran a two parter:

“Think of an advertising agency…”

After a few seconds, the screen scrolled

“Exactly”.

Saatchi & Saatchi

Saatchi’s reputation wasn’t built on lunch alone but they knew the value of networking and of being seen out there in the world rather than at their desks hunched over a ham and piccalilli bap. They made lunch work as a business weapon.

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Lunches should not be Puritan affairs – an alfalfa salad with a side of wheatgerm and spirulina washed down with a bottle of San Pellegrino and a Tumeric espresso might float your boat but is not my idea of a good time. I know southern Californians who’d love it. Just as I know a New Yorker whose idea of lunch is seventeen – yes, that’s right, seventeen – different pill supplements. When he told us his diet, the Spaniards in the room laughed. They preferred pintos and a glass of Rioja. Me too. But you need to know what your guest likes, so find out. If they like pills, take them to Boots.

Lunches should be enjoyable – it is your responsibility to ensure that they are. Pick a time and a date when your companions are not rushed off their feet, when they might have an extra half hour to kick back and relax in your company. Too many people write off lunch as an antiquated habit. Try telling this to the French. It has become unfashionable, they tell me, to lunch. And yet, every single one of the best restaurants in London is booked up from 17 May and will be chock-a-block with covers every single lunch time. And dinner. And the people at the tables earn a darn sight more than most of those who laugh at the outmoded habit and opine that lunch is dead. There’s a lesson in there, somewhere. What do the lunchers know that the non-lunching brigade don’t know?

Lunch is a weapon to be wielded.

New business guru

All this awaits…

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As we rush back to real world relationships and give our favourite restaurants some much needed revenue, it is salutary to remember that lunch can also provide a wonderful opportunity for revenge. I remember having a lovely lunch with an ex-colleague who was very vain. He was terribly pleased with himself and always held forth on his opinion about everything, from politics to the plates on the table. He was one of those people who would say, with no hint of irony:

Enough of me talking about me. You talk about me instead.

Having exhausted the London advertising scene, he wanted me to introduce him to a particular someone I knew in Asia who might be able to give him a job there. So he took me out to lunch. When coffee arrived – him a fashionable espresso, me a cappuccino (I know – after midday, what was I thinking?) – I raised my cup to my lips and blew, to cool it down, of course. The chocolate dusted froth flew across the table between us and landed on his Armani tie. He looked down. I smiled. I never saw him again.

Summer is round the corner. Our favourite places are opening up and we need to get out and enjoy life again. Lunch is serious business but only if it is fun. Happy 17 May – Lunch Day. And as they used to say in Star Trek: dine well and prosper.

Some favourite places to lunch

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