All good things must come to an end. Unless, that is, you’re an old Italian tratt, given the immutable mix of veal Milanese and waiters delivering deafening choruses of Happy Birthday has long proven invulnerable to changing tastes. Still, every now and then, something happens: an owner — one of those big-glasses, brown-trousered sorts who’s been shrinking since about 1985 — disappears entirely, perhaps having run off with a Borrower or something. Retirements occur. Deals are done. And then things begin again; birthdays and breadcrumbs persist.
These places are all over. Knightsbridge has one in Sale e Pepe — albeit a very chic take on the recipe, seasoned to postcode. Fifty this year, the place had a heyday of Hollywood types — Roger Moore arching an eyebrow at Diana Ross, that crowd — which began to quiet in the early Noughties. But a new act has begun, old owner Tony Corricelli having sold up to Los Mochis restaurateur Markus Thesleff, who’s rid the place of its spotlight white, marble floor thing in favour of midnight blues and Tuscan reds. It is always dusk inside. Prices are up, but so is the execution of the food, though the menu does much what it always did. The spirit remains the same; Happy Birthday is still heard.
