The Ritz's chef John WIlliams: ‘I'm the best value in London'

Telegraph

a day ago

The kitchen beneath The Ritz's dining room is in full swing at lunchtime. Around 20 chefs in whites – toques and all – are applying finishing touches to their plates. Waiters in black tailcoats push trolleys hurriedly through narrow corridors. The only hint this isn't a normal day at the 119-year-old hotel is that the team have all just enjoyed a glass of Bollinger before service.
The previous night the restaurant was named the country's best at the National Restaurant Awards (NRAs), just four months after it earned its second Michelin star (long overdue according to many in the food industry). 'I was absolutely amazed, ecstatic,' says John Williams MBE, The Ritz's executive chef, in his office, which offers a panoramic view of the kitchen like a pundits' studio at a football stadium. 'You're always hopeful to do better than the year before [it finished 13th in 2024]. I squealed a bit when they read out number two.' With previous two-time winner Moor Hall confirmed in the runner-up position, The Ritz's fate was sealed.
In an industry beholden to trends, its resurgence is remarkable. No natural wine, small plates or Korean fried chicken here. Instead, you'll find pressed Anjou pigeons, a beef Wellington trolley and crêpes suzette prepared tableside. ' The Ritz is a special place, I thought we were forgotten,' said Williams after the Michelin announcement in February. Perhaps it suffered from always being there, a symbol of old London preserved in aspic – a rich tourist's destination? 'I do believe it took a long time for people to accept. You have to break the bar of what that expectation is to get noticed.'
Stefan Chomka, editor of Restaurant magazine which organises the NRAs, says The Ritz is a 'transformative restaurant'. He continues: 'The moment you cross its threshold you are taken to a place unlike any other in London, or indeed in the UK.' I have been lucky to eat there and it was certainly memorable. At tables in the grandiose Louis XVI dining room, all pinks and golds with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling fresco, sat wealthy septuagenarians with their granddaughters (or possibly their girlfriends), families celebrating special occasions and couples on what seemed like impressively expensive second dates.
As for the food, the turbot 'ton sur ton', a preparation involving two sauces – one champagne, the other lobster – was perfect. The crêpes theatrical. Most delicious? A tuile filled with coronation chicken, a dish which last year gained the attention of restaurant critic Tim Hayward for involving 'every kind of twattery required' and marking every culinary 'cliché on the bingo card', but tasting 'bloody gorgeous'.
The Ritz isn't subtle. A neo-Baroque sprawl of alcoves and dining rooms, it has been called ' cartoonishly grand '. Almost everywhere you'll hear someone playing piano. The Long Room gives Versailles a run for its money. It is the perfect home for Williams, a chef with five decades experience in hotels. But it is a far cry from where he was raised.
Born in South Shields in 1958, Williams grew up with food playing a significant role in his childhood. His father was a fisherman, bringing home seafood from the North Sea. Williams, the second of six children, was always on hand in the kitchen or doing the food shop. One of his earliest food memories is aged around 11, helping his mother to scrape Jersey royals for the Sunday roast. 'I made some mint sauce that day and as a treat she gave me three large Jerseys with melted butter on top,' he recalls. 'That was it, I was hooked.'
Williams talks with Proustian verve, his accent becoming ever so slightly more Geordie, about his father's love of pig's trotters and curries, and his own occasional treat of minced tripe with vinegar. And strawberries. The 'pungent' smell of the grocer's, when there was still little refrigeration. 'The aroma was magnificent, you hardly get that now, because they're all chilled.' Walking home, he and his mother would stop to eat the berries, the juice running down their chins.
Unlike most of his peers, Williams was what one might now call a 'foodie'. Most of his contemporaries would become fishermen, miners or dock workers. He enrolled in a cookery course, making bolognese and impressing his teacher. That led to an apprenticeship at The Percy Arms, a hotel in Northumberland, where Williams realised he wanted to cook 'posh food' for 'posh people'. London was the logical next step. Before turning 17, he enrolled at catering school and secured a job at the Royal Garden Hotel in Kensington. By 27, he was second in command at Claridge's, in charge of around 80 cooks, before stints at The Berkeley and a return to Claridge's as executive chef, where he cooked for at least three US presidents.
But The Ritz, which Williams joined in 2004 as executive chef, was arguably his calling. He remembers walking under its fabled arches back in the 1970s, peering through its glass windows and thinking, presciently, 'maybe one day I'll work there'.
Many have shared the desire to step inside the neoclassical building. Founded by Swiss hotelier César Ritz in 1906, eight years after its Parisian counterpart, it has been the hotel of choice for Hollywood royalty and actual royals. Jackie Onassis stayed there, as did Charlie Chaplin and Noel Coward. Edward Heath and Harold Macmillan dined there, while Winston Churchill met Charles de Gaulle and Dwight Eisenhower in the Marie Antoinette Suite in 1942. Princess Diana was a fan, and it was where the then Prince Charles and Camilla Parker Bowles were first pictured together in public, in 1999. Queen Elizabeth II hosted Charles's birthday bash at The Ritz in 2002, following with her own 80th birthday celebrations in 2006 for which langoustines and lamb were on the menu. On the wall in Williams' office is a framed letter of congratulations from King Charles III, received two days after the restaurant earned its second Michelin star.
It is easy to see why The Ritz is beloved of the great and good. Its front doors, manned by porters dressed in tailcoats, top hats and white gloves, are a portal into another world. The afternoon tea parlour is packed (hosting five sittings and around 400 people a day), the scones sound tracked by soft jazz tinkling from a grand piano. So culturally significant is The Ritz that it spawned an adjective – the best word to describe it is, indeed, ritzy.
For Williams, the challenge from day one was to evolve without straying from what makes it The Ritz. In 2004 it was, he has said, a 'reliable, if slightly outdated establishment'. Certainly not anyone's idea of trendy. 'It wasn't the greatest, in all honesty,' says Williams now. 'It was ultra expensive, but they weren't delivering the very best. That made me think of [ensuring] value for money, making sure we give the very best we can.'
Williams' cooking is firmly rooted in the tradition of haute cuisine and grand hotels – he is a disciple of Georges Auguste Escoffier, who popularised traditional French cooking methods in the late 1800s. But he has tailored that to contemporary needs – introducing vegetarian and vegan menus, using less sugar and serving lighter sauces, without compromising his gastronomic principles. 'I was the correct kind of person to come to The Ritz because I solemnly believe in classic cooking and Escoffier. We really wanted to bring that on. It's not about totally changing the menus. In a place like this there's a structure, and you can't just say 'that's all out and this is in'. You'd have a riot.'
What does Williams think sets The Ritz apart? It's not only the basis in classical cookery but sourcing the finest possible ingredients. Being part of a Qatari-owned hotel surely helps purchasing power (the proprietor is Abdulhadi Mana Al-Hajri, a business tycoon and brother-in-law of the Emir of Qatar), but don't all restaurants claim to use only top-notch meat, fish and veg? 'You could interview 100 chefs, they're all going to say that,' Williams admits. 'Let me tell you there's only about three or four of them looking for the very, very best, and capable of paying the very, very best. Some of my ingredients are extreme in price.'
Dublin bay prawns are an example, which Williams says he buys for up to £9 a pop. Those sauces for the turbot, from champagne (which is made with Ritz Reserve Champagne Barons De Rothschild) to lobster, are also costly both to source the ingredients for and to create (it's the single role of one chef). The £221 seven-course tasting menu begins to make sense. 'I believe solemnly, 100 per cent, [that] I'm the best value in London, for cost of product and then selling price. Value for money is everything that I believe in.' One of the first things he did when taking the reins in 2004 was reduce the menu du jour by £10 – a relatively significant sum at the time. Many still tell him he should charge more.
Williams has earned a reputation as one of the nation's best chefs without acquiring much fame beyond his industry. He is rarely seen on TV and uses social media sporadically (mostly when his partner makes him post holiday snaps; Williams has spoken in the past of his previous 20-year marriage coming to an end because of his career). Chef Henry Harris, who runs Bouchon Racine, a hugely popular French restaurant in London's Farringdon which took fifth place at the NRAs, recalls cooking alongside Williams and 'several truly great chefs' at a private dinner 25 years ago. 'He out-cooked us all. His understanding of our craft, techniques and traditions delivers some of the most beautiful and memorable dishes I've been lucky enough to eat. He is also a rare individual who embraces complex, often forgotten techniques that deliver dishes that aren't found anywhere to that level. We all crave tradition and comfort, and to get that in London's most beautiful dining room, with generous and attentive service, makes [The Ritz] somewhere we should all go at least once.'
For Williams, a great restaurant starts with the front-of-house staff. Many have been at the hotel for years, including head hall porter Michael de Cozar, who joined in 1973 following his father's footsteps, and starred, albeit briefly, in the film Notting Hill,which included several scenes filmed on site. 'The quality of the food is one aspect, but if the human touch is not there, you might not come back,' stresses Williams.
For some, however, the service can be a little out of touch. Telegraph columnist Xanthe Clay is a big fan of the food and dining room but admits 'things don't always go perfectly'. On her last visit, a working lunch with a female colleague, she found 'glitches in the service, starting with a peremptory receptionist and a delay being seated. Then, when a cheery waiter sallied forth declaring, 'Ladiiies, what are we celebrating today?' I could feel my esteemed companion shudder. Two women lunching alone, apparently, must mean a birthday at least.'
Yet the accolades are finally rolling in, with a royal warrant in 2024 preceding the second Michelin star and the NRAs result. Last week, however, a report labelled the Michelin guide 'Eurocentric'. Williams believes that's 'totally untrue. They're worldwide, they've become more diverse than ever before.' The NRAs were certainly London-centric, with over half of the top 100 (and seven of the top 10) located in the capital. Yet, winning was seismic for Williams. 'For someone to say you are number one in the UK, it's one hell of a statement.'
He has strong views about social media, not least the rise of restaurants creating dishes specifically for Instagram and TikTok. 'That really winds me up. I have gone to a couple of places where I've thought that looks nice, and it tasted absolute rubbish.' Nothing at The Ritz, he insists, is made for show.
Williams is still at the pass every day ('I taste all the sauces on a daily basis'), playing as much golf as he can in his spare time. He is motivated by nurturing the next generation of top chefs, and plenty have already passed through his kitchen. Spencer Metzger, who rose from apprentice to head chef at The Ritz, now runs Row on 5 in London, while Adam Byatt (of Trinity, in Clapham) and Adam Smith (of Woven at Ascot) are former Ritz employees. He points to a young chef in the corner of the kitchen, Daniella, who he claims will be the 'next great chef. There are certain people [in whom] you're able to see that. The women at the moment are a bit better than the men.'
Williams bookends our interview with sartorial gripes, starting by telling me most chefs at the previous night's ceremony weren't suited. Of those who were, the majority were from The Ritz, Williams jokes. I tell him the only time I wear jackets are at weddings and funerals – and when I ate at The Ritz. 'A lot of people say that,' he admits. Before I leave, he expresses a mild disdain for chefs in T-shirts and aprons. His own 30cm-tall white pleated toque is worn at all times, except when he's in his office, and he believes strongly in the dining-room's dress code which dictates a tie and jacket for men, no sportswear and no jeans. 'You walk into that restaurant and go wow. It's special, isn't it? Next thing, you see the waiters, they're dressed in a particular way. You look at the tabletops, they're dressed in a similar style. My belief is you don't want anybody with shorts and flip flops walking into a room like that, do you?'
Just before leaving to join the lunch service, Williams weighs up The Ritz in the context of London's current dining scene. Its approach to sourcing and seasonality are thoroughly modern, he argues, but few chefs are turning out dishes like pressed pigeon and soufflé in a decidedly old-school dining room. 'The beautiful thing about it,' he says, 'is we've become unique, and now people are coming back to us.'