We were greeted at Quo Vadis by the maitre'd who looked like Fergus Henderson's immaculately tailored younger brother. Incredibly charming guy and perfect front of house. Our guests were unfortunately a little late and as we booked the previous day we and only managed to get a very early dinner table which had a turnaround time of 2.5 hours that was already ticking away.

Our guests arrived, we were shown straight to the table and enjoyed pies, steaks and terrines. Solid English fayre. Dinner didn't feel hurried despite, the starters came out quickly, we had time to sink a couple of bottles of Wine but as the plates were removed I knew it was time for us to do the same. Fergus then suddenly reappeared, invited and escorted us to the private club upstairs for live entertainment and rejuvenating cocktails. It was a pretty perfect evening.

I thought that the Blue Print Cafe was terrible but Jeremy Lee's cooking has evidently really moved up a few levels since then and with a great team have put Quo Vadis back firmly back on the map once again.

Gourmet, as an adjective, is used to flog most food nowadays – sandwiches, sausage rolls, even Cat food. It has become a meaningless term which should now translate to ‘good’ or ‘not crap’. I think it is quite unlikely that the very restaurants designed to serve gourmets where this term orginated, would wish to be associated with it any longer.

Cantina Ladero's tagline is ‘Gourmet Mexican Food’. I am a big fan of Mexican Food but we don't do it very well in this country. The Mexican restaurants in London particularly are generally in tourist traps and serve 4 pint pitchers of blue margaritas to noisy tables of 20.

I am pleased to confirm that Ladero does not conform to this genre and actually turns out some very well presented and delicious Mexican food in very civilised surroundings. We ordered a couple of items from the ‘Tapas’ section (same language I guess) followed by Taquería (Tacos). I did also see some sizzling skillets of Fajitas being transported to tables and experienced momentary food envy.

One reccomendation I would make is for the ‘Guadalajara Michelda’ which is actually a regional drink recipe – Beer served with Tomato juice, Lime, Chilli sauce and with a rim of sea salt which will put thick black hairs on your chest.

I must admit to being something of a Heston fanboy. I have travelled to Bray countless times to dine at The Crown, Hinds Head & Fat Duck and have never been anything less than completely impressed. Even the Little Chef in Popham was terrific.

Despite never having never visited Dinner, I immediately recoignised the dishes on the menu – ‘Meat Fruit’, ‘Rice and Flesh’, ‘Tipsy Cake’. I was excited about sampling modern interpretations of these long forgotten British recipes and finally completing the circle.

Rarely do I pay much attention to the decor and ambience of a restaurant – if the company is good and the food is exciting my eyes don't leave the table. This time I noticed – the restaurant was an awkward shape and the view of the rest of the room obscured by several large pillars which I expect are obviously structural neccesities but divided the room. Bare wood tables and banquette sharing was also a little bit of a surprise. It reminded me of a Thursday night at Relais De Venise on Threadneedle, it missed a sense of occasion and the primarily male diners with their primarily male clients and the ludicrously priced Wine list added to an overall feeling of dissapointment.

The food itself was overall good and the the service absolutely faultless. Enough has been written already about the victuals so I won't elaborate here other than to warn that the sous vide ‘Beef Supreme’ did indeed taste as if it had been boiled in the bag for 50 hours as promised. Desserts were good but in terms of the overall meal and experience I left underwhelmed.

I passed on the offer of a cup of tea after dinner, despite the very competitive price of £14.95 a cup – which I hope was made holy water imported from Fiji and not from the the kitchen tap.

I was delighted to hear that Gregg Wallace had taken over the restaurant which was formerly ‘Alfies’, a souless, entirely merit-free dining experience patronised primarily by guests of the hotel who presumably didn’t know where Bermondsey street was. We dined at Greggs on their ‘official’ opening night and I’m pleased to report that the dining room has been transformed into something resembling an inviting restaurant, the bar has been pared back and the kitchen opened up a little more with the added touches of a bookshelf arrangement with artistically placed 70’s condiments. Working the room was the man himself, wise cracking, table hopping and generally beaming widely at everyone whilst keeping an eye on the kitchen which did seem to be feeling the strain of a full house.

In order to taste as many dishes as possible, we opted for 6 starters between the pair of us. Avocado Prawn, Mushroom Vol au Vents, Spam Fritters, Crab and two Fish Mousse. I eventually liked the Fish Mousse although the consistency was a bit unusual, the texture was of a blancmange which I am sure was deliberate, although had expected something lighter and fluffier but it was enjoyable once I understood it. The avocado prawn was a real delight although the Mushroom Vol au Vents cried out for more filling to counter the sturdy pastry case. The Spam Fritters were tasty although again, the batter was too thick and thus sponged up too much oil whilst the Picalilli almost dissolved my toungue it was so overwhelmingly acidic. The Crab with capers and egg on the other hand, was faultless. Our side of Dauphinoise were as good as you would find anywhere.

Some of the dishes I tried could use a little refinement and portion sizes some uniformity but I am confident once the new brigade settles in these problems will be ironed out, particularly with Gregg at the pass. Pricing is also very attractive indeed – starters in single figures and the generous looking mains averaging around £15. This is simple, honest and hearty food and I'm already looking forward to my next visit.

Having visited the Crown in Bray pre Heston Blumenthal I can confirm that rumours of its demise from ‘lovely country pub’ to soulless chain pub is utter nonsense. Farewell laminated menus and spaghetti bolognaises and hello mini Hinds Head. I can sympathise with the locals whose village is plagued with foodies making the pilgrimage to 7-star village which is why I understand, publicity behind Heston’s second pub has been mute.

This is a pub, primarily designed for the locals, so if you have discovered this review, count yourself lucky.

The menu is part predictable high quality fayre with some ingenious additions – the Chilli Con Carne for two with Jalapeño butter, sour cream and spongy corn muffins was an absolute delight. A couple enjoyed Cheese Fondue at the adjoining table whilst the regulars tucked into their puddings and roasts. The Wine list topped out at around £50 which is clearly deliberate.

For me, the Crown is a terrific pub. On the face of it an arm’s length acquisition for HB but the level of care, attention and the quality of service has HB stamped all over it.

Fairtrade, organic, locally sourced, environmentally friendly, sustainable, carbon neutral, biodegradable & recyclable. The Table Café at Southwark promises all of these things.

I found the summary of greenie credentials on the biodegradable menu at this ‘award winning restaurant’ about as captivating as the food. It was bland, uninteresting and looked like it had been prepared by a student.

Take your carbon footprint elsewhere.

Had a great meal at Morgan M. It had been a while since I ventured North to Monsieur Meunier's Islington outpost yet the the menu did look familiar. I understand that Morgan N1 is currently undergoing refurbishment and I hope they can bring it in line with the warm, comfortable environment that has been created on Long Lane.

After bread and a few too many G+T's (sadly only two gin options and one is blue) we were introduced to an Chesnut amuse bouché served with something in an unintelligible French accent. The three of us agreed it was outstanding.

That was the only point of agreement for the rest of the meal as we tackled the ‘a la carte’ – food envy and disagreements from the beginning. We picked at each others dishes for the duration and just could not agree on a victor. It was all just really that good. After a reasonable selection of Cheeses (but no crackers?) I was the only one tough enough to order a desert, an exquisite baked banana and as expected, it was vandalised by the rest of the table.

Another Michelin Star has to be in the post this year for this terrific Chef.

Atico, I later learned means ‘ancient’ in Italian, however I do know that an Antiques once dominated the floor space of this very new Italian restaurant so I assume this is just an ingenious play on words.

The choice of name is not the only bewlidering inconsistency here – there is a cellar bar and and the restaurant has both bar style and formal table seating and is only open for dinner (apart from weekends). We only actually realised there was a bar downstairs by accident. The menu is also superbly confusing – there are three headings being Antipasti & Spuntini, Pasta & Risotto, Meat & Fish with a sub category of items titled ‘deli counter’ within Antipasti which basically was more starters and wasn't only served at the deli counter.

If I crudely categorising the first section, it was pretty good – a varied and interesting selection tasty Italian food from between £3-£7 tapas style – all the rage nowadays. Second courses (Pasta is also served in half main courses – or should that be starter size?) were a little lighter on imagination. The Pasta was excellent but with main courses mostly in the late teens and a satiated appetite after small plates we went no further.

There is a foodie mile along Bermondsey Street that stretches (almost) to Magdalen. José Pizarro is currently the Don with his two eponymous Tapas restaurants, the award winning Italian Zucca only a few steps away and an assortment of damn good gastropubs inbetween. It seems that Atico has attempted to incorporate elements of all these concepts and fused them into one and opened at the beginning of January.

I hope Atico does well. The food is good and the owner cares – hopefully it will find its own indentity, organise the menu and its opening hours.

It is almost a year since Le Deux Salons launched itself onto the London restaurant scene, trumpeted as a little piece of Paris in London, a ‘Grand Brasserie’ in Covent Garden, ecstatic praise was given for its innovative menu, electric atmosphere and it felt, at the time at least that Anthony Demetre and Will Smith had plugged a gap that desperately needed to be filled in the London restaurant scene.

I revisited Deux Salons on Sunday afternoon with a friend who recalled I had originally recommended the restaurant to him earlier in the year as part of one of his romantic pursuits, which had been successful. He had revisited several times subsequently for similar reasons but unfortunately those visits had not been as fruitful. The quality of the cooking had, however been consistent and we were both looking forward to a great lunch.

It was perhaps telling that we both ignored the main dishes (Burger/Steak/Chop/Chicken) and ordered the Roast Saddle of Welsh Lamb, the ‘plat de jour’. That seemed befitting of a Sunday. He ordered the Fish Soup (probably the best use of Fish on a Sunday) and I had the Steak Tartare.

The main event arrived and looked suspiciously bad. It had the appearance of a boil in the bag canon of Lamb and was served with hard peas. The only texture to be found on this soggy plate were some amazing crispy roast potatoes. We actually enquired if the meat had been vacuum cooked in a water bath because perhaps we were the fools but apparently not, somehow this meat had seen dry heat – but to use the adjective ‘Roast’ to describe it was ambitious.

Desserts of Lemon Tart and Mille-Feuille were good, as were our starters but I couldn’t help thinking there was nothing to really celebrate on the menu, or indeed to distinguish it too far from Côte – that gap appears to be narrowing and this 150 seater restaurant was only ‘une salon’ and at 10% capacity at that time. It makes you wonder.

Despite everything I will return and try again, but not on a Sunday afternoon and not until the reintroduction of their fantastic Cassoulet or something similarly exciting I can’t just as easily find served up at a chain.

A table for 15 in the City on a Friday lunchtime is a very tall order. Even with weeks of notice rather than a few hours, a request of this type is more than likely to be met with a quiet snigger. In an act of simple cowardice I delegated the role to someone else and observed from a distance, waited for this short telephone call to end. But there was a smile and a nod and we were on – lunch for 15 at The Mercer.

Not only were we offered the private dining room, there was to be no room charge, no abridged menu, no forms to fax back, questionnaires, threats of legal action or credit card guarantees. We were even called back an hour later to be offered the option of the table in the main restaurant as we may ‘enjoy the atmosphere’. By the time we arrived at 1.30pm lunch service was well under way, with just one long table at the back of the restaurant awaiting our occupation. Drinks were served (Chapel Down) and menus dispatched. There were big smiles all afternoon, particularly once the dishes arrived, this was faultless British cooking – no foam, no pretention, just big, bold flavoursome dishes that didn’t fail or falter once and were met with unanimous approval from a rather tough crowd.

Suddenly it was 5pm and despite there being no bar area, the staff offered to designate one in order that we could continue our extended lunch. I have rarely felt more welcome. However, we did sensibly decide to end on a high as we had already cleared their cellar of the Katnook Estate, which comes as highly recommended at the restaurant itself and represents similarly excellent value. Top marks x 15.

So Angela Hartnett is a jolly old soul, it was nice to see her at front of house before service started, all smiles from the staff and everything looked in place for a great evening. The service looked wobbly from the beginning but we ignored it. Aperitifs took an age (we were the second table to arrive), we received the same ‘amuse bouche’ three times by three different waiters, the ‘Antipasto’ (actually two cold cuts) arrived 30 seconds before the first course and it went further downhill from there. The sommelier was competent but the waiters seemed clueless, dirty plates were left, wine glasses drained and redundant, dessert wine with no dessert. Quite astonishing from what is a Michelin Star restaurant with such an accomplished Chef at the helm. Perhaps this was just an off-night but given the ticket price, I would recommend giving this place a wide berth until more positive reviews appear.

Simpsons Tavern, not to be confused with the more recently opened Simpsons in the Strand (1828) has been serving lunch to City folk for the last 250 years. There is nothing ‘eclectic’ or experimental about the dishes here, the waiters did not graduate from Le Cordon Bleu and the wooden ‘pew’ seating is damn uncomfortable but nobody seems to care.

Orders are shouted across the table, smaller groups of diners are seated together, conversations are loud as plates heavy with staple British grub are circulated to hungry men. Our table took crispy Pork Belly, Potted Shrimp and Smoked Salmon starters which did exactly what it said on the tin. This was soon followed with Roast Beef, The Mixed Grill, (a protein rich plate Steak, Sausage, Egg, Kidney, Bacon & Tomato) and Lamb Shank, then bravely fought on with a round of nostalgic Suet puddings with Custard and the famous ‘Stewed Cheese’ which tasted significantly better than its description.

Starters are priced between £3.85 – £6.00 and most main courses are also single figures so you will struggle to spend more than twenty pounds per head and in exchange for that, you will leave incredibly well fed.

Midsummer House is certainly the best restaurant I am aware of in Cambridge and worth a visit if in the area, although I am not convinced it is worthy of the levels of praise or certain is it worthy of its accolades.

Arriving a little early for our table was were seated in the ‘bar’ which is a very small rectangular room upstairs with two clusters of tables and chairs. These were already occupied so instead we were given two wooden chairs and held our drinks until one of the tables were vacated. It did have the distinct feel of a waiting room. Bit strange.

The dining room itself was nice but did now feel very much like sitting in a conservatory, although perhaps I was more aware of my surroundings after the ‘bar’ experience. The menu was tasting only as we were having dinner at the weekend – with a choice of two, ‘taste of the market’ £130 with wine, or ‘taste of midsummer’ – £165 options with wine. I would usually opt for a tasting menu rather than dining a la carte but it would have been nice to have a choice. There also seems little point choosing a Wine if the sommelier has already paired each course in advance, so bowing to superior judgement I reluctantly handed the heavy Wine list back.

The meal was interesting – if a bit of a foam party. Some predictable dishes but also some real flourishes of excellence including a Jack Daniels and Honey shot. The desserts were also notable. Service was good although altogether the whole experience felt a little conveyor belt and the atmosphere was slightly flat. Sit down, eat this, drink this, nod agreeably and then leave £450 lighter.

According to the mini guide ‘Edinburghs best restaurants’ the Witchery has a “world-wide reputation for sensational food in the most indulgent setting”. The guide introduces Scotland’s best-known restaurateur, James Thomson, who according to Scotland on Sunday (in 2003) has. . . “a reputation others would die for”. The rest of the ‘guide’ is simply self aggrandising promotional brochure for Thomsons other two lesser known restaurants and rooms clearly designed to fool tourists. Unfortunately however, the Witchery does not live up to it's glowing reviews of itself. The dining room is dramatic and the location ideal for hungry visitors to the Castle but the food is just about passable and completely overpriced. My suggestion is to ignore the hype, consultant the Red book and eat at 21212 instead. The Witchery is a tourist trap!

I did not know what to expect from Icelandic cuisine. I certainly didn't imagine that a tasting menu created without butter or cream would feature amongst one of the finest meals I have ever enjoyed in London. It was nothing short of sublime. This was death row, last meal material.

From the moment the selection of crispbreads arrived, we knew that we were in for a treat – the five course tasting menu covered Pea, Lobster, Quail, Cod and Beef with a thoroughly delicious desert of Rhubarb and Muesli. Consistently excellent, extremely technical and difficult to choose between them. Despite the formality of the environment, the service was very friendly and relaxed, with Sverrisson regularly appearing from the kitchen to check on things front of house.

This is only the second restaurant that produced a 10/10 experience and I would thoroughly recommend it to any readers looking for a fine dining experience beyond the classic French formula.