Cecconi’s is like a little outpost of the Ab Fab Chelsea set, nestling discreetly off the glam end of Bond Street. It’s always packed to the gills with leggy blondes who talk like Princess Anne, red-faced middle aged tweed wearers, the odd green welly here and there and lashings of waxed raincoats. The sort of people who don’t queue, interrupt you asking if there’s a table for two in order to ask the same question for themselves. Rude people. Consider them like Bond Villains and suddenly the whole place makes sense - flamboyant, rude and definitely old school.
Dispersed in this mix are the odd celebrity, well-to-do tourists and plenty of Americans and Italians… and these last groups are the most important indicator of whether an American / Italian restaurant is any good. The food is unpretentious, excellent quality and plentiful portions. It’s not cheap, but it’s typical West-end prices and certainly not expensive by London standards. The main reason to go to Cecconi’s is a weekend brunch. You’ll probably need to book because it does get busy but you’ll understand why when you eat their cooked breakfast, which is like a very posh version of the greasy heart-attack trucker’s breakfast (which now ranks just below paedophilia as a bad thing to do with your body). Italian sausage, free range eggs, black pudding, porcini mushrooms, home made baked beans, pancetta, lashings of toast…mmmmm. Or maybe you’ll prefer the amazing fried cheese or bacon sandwich, eggs Benedict, Royale, Florentine, their excellent breakfast pastries or the outrageous French toast with fresh berries and cream. My wife had that once and very nearly married the waiter who served it. All washed down with fresh Italian coffee, juices, mineral water, bloody mary, martini etc. The wine list caters for all wallets and like their lunch menu, is unremarkable, but full of safe, reliable choices that won’t disappoint.
In many respects Cecconi’s is like having a wealthy uncle or aunt… it’s close enough to a perfectly normal, middle of the road Italian restaurant, except with really posh stuff. The reason it remains a favourite of mine is the fact you can stay as long as you like, eat until you have to undo your belt, have a romantic brunch or a relaxed lunch with your mates on comfy seats in a great central location. Yes, you might grimace now and again as the Polo set turn up and complain about the good old days when children went to boarding school and you could get Concorde to America rather than travel with the hoi polloi on a jumbo jet, but you’ll be stuffing your face too hard to take much notice.