L unch at the Savoy? This is not the kind of offer that comes often (to me at any rate) and was certainly not one to be turned down. It was perhaps 30 years since I had set foot in the place, for an upmarket wedding celebration in the ballroom, and I was eager to see how it was looking after its recent £220m renovation (co-owner Prince Al-Waleed bin Talal is a man with very deep pockets). Lavish, is the answer in a word.

The pleasing invitation to visit was extended by my friend Tony Byrne, the Special Advisor to the FT Weekend Oxford Literary Festival, The Blenheim Palace Literary Festival and the Gibunco Gibraltar International Literary Festival.

Its purpose was to celebrate the link between these prestigious events and the Savoy, the London partner hotel to all three. As Tony noted: “Given the Savoy’s extraordinary history of associations with great artists, musicians, politicians and world leaders, not to mention the number of gourmet dishes named at the hotel, the festivals are privileged to be associated with such a legendary institution now magnificently restored.”

Our lunch was in the splendid setting of Kaspar’s Seafood Bar & Grill — of whose name I shall say more presently — at a perfectly positioned table looking out over the River Thames (as painted from a few floors up by Claude Monet, perhaps the most famous of the Savoy’s artist visitors).

Rosemarie was a privileged guest, too, and, since this was not in the style of a review visit, had no hesitation in ordering the same main course as me. We would have been fools not to choose Dover soles after Tony told us the hotel’s were the best in London.

With this verdict we were both inclined to agree — pending inspection elsewhere — when presented with our fish. Without doubt the plumpest, juiciest soles I have ever seen, they were also much the easiest to eat, the pearl-white flesh having been completely separated from any vestige of bone.

To start, I went for the smoked fish and was invited to choose four from a selection that included (some cured too) peppered hot smoked Scottish salmon, hot smoked sable fish and paprika, star anise cured salmon, and citrus cured wild sea bass.

Again, Tony provided a sound tip when he recommended a bumper portion of just one of them, the wild smoked Scottish salmon. This was a wise move, since the fish had a texture and depth of flavour you never find in the mass-produced farmed stuff that dominates the market these days. I particularly enjoyed the creamed horseradish served with it.

For Rosemarie, as I mentioned in a recent restaurant review, there was a scallop. Yes, singular. But it was a big one — and diver-caught (Tom Daley?). She finished with chocolate fondant with caramel ice cream and hazelnuts, while I had yoghurt and rhubarb sorbet.

While we ate, Tony filled us in about some aspects of the hotel’s history. I learned more a day or so later in a telephone conversation with the hotel’s archivist Susan Scott. Yes, the Savoy uniquely has such a person, just as it sometimes has a writer in residence. In 2007 it was Michael Morpurgo who later said: “When I first met Kaspar I knew immediately he would be the subject of my next novel.” This was Kaspar Prince of Cats.

Oxford Mail:

Kaspar, as also commemorated in the restaurant name, is a three-foot-high feline figure sculpted by architect Basil Ionedes around 1925. Lacquered in (lucky) black, he came to be used — white napkin in place at his neck — as an additional guest when any party was risking misfortune by booking in for dinner 13-strong. After wartime larks by a group of RAF officers he went AWOL and it required the efforts of no less a figure than Winston Churchill to get him back.

Churchill had a long association with the Savoy, as archivist Susan stressed in our conversation. One institution there which still survives is The Other Club, which he founded in 1910 as an all-party political dining club with the barrister F. E. Smith (later Lord Birkenhead) after they had been denied access to The Club (now presumably long gone). To digress, I was surprised to see Smith’s legal quips left out of a collection recently offered on the radio. The following is surely one of the wittiest ever — Judge: “I’ve listened to you for an hour and I’m none the wiser.” Smith: “None the wiser, perhaps, my lord, but certainly better informed.”

Much of what I know of The Other Club (which likes to keep its doings secret) comes from the three volumes of Woodrow Wyatt’s posthumously published diaries. I read these again with much enjoyment over Christmas, noting the club’s welcoming embrace for such reprobates as John Profumo and Jeremy Thorpe (“a sad wreck”).

I also dipped again into Imperial Palace, the most famous fictional portrait of the Savoy, supplied by Arnold Bennett, an Other Club member, whose smoked haddock-based ‘omelette Arnold Bennett’, created for him at the hotel, became a culinary classic. The book is brilliantly entertaining and would make great TV — better by far than this week’s unnecessary rehash of E.F Benson’s Mapp and Lucia, so well done in the 1980s by ITV with a cast that included Geraldine McEwan, Prunella Scales, Nigel Hawthorne and Denis Lill.

The three-parter climaxed last night — absurd scheduling since most of us were out celebrating the New Year. A happy one to all.