Galvin at Windows, Park Lane Hilton, London

Three-course a la carte menu £58; seven-course menu gourmand from £75 (both excluding wine)

Chris Galvin has a striking CV. He won the Conran Group its only Michelin star at Orrery and has run a hatful of other successful kitchens, from L'Escargot to the Lanesborough. If he was a banker he'd be in a corner office at Goldmans by now. But successful chefs chase different carrots and a signature restaurant in a fancy hotel is one of them. Windows, on the 28th floor of London's Park Lane Hilton, relaunched under Galvin's name in the summer of 2006, with the help of a £1.5m refit.

The room is like a shiny black and beige chocolate-box, tied with a golden ribbon-sculpture suspended from the ceiling. Plus tables that are slightly too big to sustain a conversation for two without straining the vocal chords. But maybe that's nit picking.

It's a great package—arresting yet understated. What's disappointing is that there are hardly any people. The manager says it's because it's the Easter holidays. But according to Hilton staff, the hotel is "almost full". And so it should be. We're in the centre of London—one of the busiest tourist destinations in the world, during one of the busiest holiday periods of the year. Easter is an opportunity, not an excuse. Maybe the credit crunch is spoiling everybody's appetites. But in a million-pound space, with million-dollar views, eating food created by an exceptional chef, what's not to like?

One of the starters doesn't really cut it: the chicken and rabbit lasagne, dumped in a foam bath, had neither the taste nor texture of chicken or rabbit—or lasagne, for that matter. But everything else is pretty much spot on. Lavish, confident cooking that quite frankly deserves more attention. The cured salmon and crab platter, studded with caviar, was as close to perfect as it's possible to get: its lemony kick cutting through the delicate, buttery flavour of the crab.

As for the mains, the pigeon, cooked medium rare and stuffed with foie gras—the plate dotted with intense sweetbreads and potato—was rich, wintry and immensely satisfying. The Scottish beef was faultless. Don't leave without sampling the Valrhona palet d'or, which, not to take anything away from its delicate construction, is a bit like a luxury fruit and nut bar, mashed up, melted and finished with praline ice cream. Delicious.

One mark off for the sommelier, who told us a Taurasi from Campagnia packed rather less of an alcoholic punch than it really did. If any wine comes in over the 14 per cent mark I want to know about it. But this is a minor quibble. If you're moneyed enough to own a Park Lane apartment, or lonely enough to live at the Hilton, make an effort to support your local restaurant.

David Woodward