While visiting London in the 1960s, Sophia Loren had her favourite pasta, spaghetti alla napoletana, either flown in from Italy or prepared by chefs in the kitchen at The Savoy. It’s a simple dish, with a sauce made from olive oil, tomatoes, garlic and basil. But pasta had yet to “take-off” in Britain — Lloyd Grossman was a long way from cashing in. So it was the Italian chefs (my nonna’s brother among them) at The Savoy who flew the tricolore flag.
Years on and the hotel still has it, still lures the well-heeled and the glamorous to its marble foyer. London is replete with luxury today — and, fine, there are cooler hangouts — but I dare say Loren would still choose the old-timer on the Strand, not only for pasta but for a friendly glass of wine and a little jazz. It’s the history of the place. It’s the tradition, the service. There are few arenas better suited for a romantic evening, better yet if you can fork out for a room. England might need to win the World Cup for that.
