You really need to book ahead at the Wolseley. Sure you can probably get in early or late, but if you want to go for breakfast (which is very big with busy business folk having important meetings), lunch or dinner, it pays to make plans a good few weeks in advance. Charles Campion, in his essential London Restaurant Guide 2008, tells the story of one enterprising critic who came for breakfast and stayed for elevenses, lunch, tea and dinner to ensure getting an evening table.

Don't be palmed off when they tell you that they keep tables for people who haven't booked and that you can wait for one of these in the bar – you will find yourself directed to a table in one of the Siberia salons on either side of the entranceway, as no less a luminary than Dustin Hoffman (small, very small) did on the day that I had lunch there. The salons are pleasant enough, but where you want to be is in the main room – a converted car showroom on Piccadilly with all the buzz and élan of a European grand café. After a certain amount of pleading (I blew my cover but got the distinct impression the maitre d' couldn't have cared less), we managed to bag a table on the fringes of the dining room – not quite in the thick of it, but not in Siberia either – a good vantage point from which to observe the comings and goings.

I'll get the celebrity stuff out of the way first. Michael Parkinson. (Very old and very grey.) Joan Rivers. (Less scary-surgery than you'd think.) Lysette Anthony. (What, so you mean, you don't remember Krull? Or Dr Jekyll and Ms Hyde?) There are always slebs to be spotted at the Wolseley – it's nigh on guaranteed. There are, of course, as Liz Hurley would say, civilians too. A grandmother having a civilised lunch with a well-behaved six-year-old (burgers), a cab driver hunkered over a salt beef and mustard sandwich, several tables of fresh-faced people up from the country for lunch before a West End matinée, a smattering of Eurotrash and a full complement of suits.

The menu offers the nostalgic simple food that is the trademark of owners Christopher Corbin and Jeremy King, and is the same for lunch and dinner. There is also a breakfast menu, an all-day menu and a menu for afternoon tea. My hotshot publisher friend, Sarah, ordered dressed Dorset crab (£15.25) served out of the shell in separate mounds of white and dark meat. It was seriously good. My vitello tonnato (£12.25) came topped with rocket and a mouth-puckering quantity of uncrushed rock salt. It was inedible. The half-dozen Fines de Claire oysters (£13.50) which replaced it were grand. A main course of mackerel with cucumber and gooseberry relish (£14.50) ticked all the healthy, sustainable, seasonal and local boxes, and tasted good too. A fine rib-eye steak (£20.75) came with a gem heart salad and underwhelming fries. Sides of buttered spinach and minted peas were just dandy. Sarah's amandine – pistachio, hazelnut and nougat ice creams with whipped cream and butterscotch sauce (£7.25) – was perfectly delicious, and my Lincolnshire poacher, Dorset blue vinney and Tovey cheeses with assorted homemade biscuits (£8.75) were in prime condition.

With water, two glasses of Côtes du Rhône and a bottle of Gavi di Gavi from a list that is pricey enough and not especially exciting, our bill came to £164.81 including 12.5% discretionary service. It would, I think, be just as much fun and considerably cheaper to book a table for breakfast or afternoon tea and linger till they throw you out.

The Wolseley

160 Piccadilly, London W1

Tel: 0044 207 499 6996

Rating: 4/5