Bonds Restaurant and Bar, London

Dinner for two, excluding drinks, £100.

The bar area at Bonds is chic and expensive looking, with big art and even bigger lighting—the interior design equivalent of a single-button jacket: hip, but hardly novel. It makes for an indulgent, "what-credit-crunch?" atmosphere. I order two bottles of Asahi and enter an alcoholic Twilight Zone where, instead of a dreamlike 1941 it's 2041 and the beer—which includes "service", despite the fact I am standing nose to nose with the server—scales up to £10 a pint.

Oddly, there is far more value to be found in the restaurant next door, a huge bank vault of a space, all pillars and panels, yet still cute and intimate. The menu has a strong British theme to it: Aberdeenshire this, Cornish that. The Dorset bay crab comes with a grapefruit jelly, cut into retro, penny-sweet-like strings. The crabmeat is deliciously sweet, served on crunchy toast.

Bonds' signature dish, lobster ravioli, arrives dunked in greyish foam—a heart-sink moment—but on closer inspection the foamy stuff turns out to be a whisked-up bisque. It tastes fantastic. The best of the mains is the pork belly. While the meat could have done with a few more minutes to crisp up, the delicate balance of ingredients brings it through. The earthy pearl barley is a perfect companion for the sweet, caramelized onion. Before we leave, there is a moment of comedy when we realise the platter of cheese for two is actually for one, and there is another truckload of dairy product on its way. Perhaps they were making up for the bar ambush.

David Woodward