Oslo Court

St John's Wood, at the bottom of Oslo Court, a large block of flats. My wife, Ros's, birthday dinner.

We walk in, veer past the flats receptionist and go through the restaurant's double doors to have our coats taken, the woman having recognised our name from our booking. We're led into a large, pink, seventies-feeling room with some framed drawings around. We're given our choice of two tables as we're on time for our seven o'clock sitting (also a nine-thirty on Saturday).

All is calm and comfortable, the carpet and cushioned chairs absorbing any conversation spikes among the well-off, no doubt repeat clientele of — probably mostly — locals. They are mostly of an age, a number brought by taxi.

The wine list — a large choice, by the glass, half bottle or bottle. We decide on a £20 ruby red 2005 Rioja. Crudités brought by another Italian waiter; tap water requested and brought with ice immediately. Woman comes to tell us what the starters and mains specials are — about ten of each.

She goes off while we ponder, comes back and we ask her to repeat the lists, which she does with ease and a smile. Ros has ‘native’ (Dorchester) oysters in the shell, on crushed ice; I have a salad heaped with lobster slices. We ‘follow’ with Ros's duckling in orange sauce and my beef Wellington.

‘Is it to your taste?’ the woman comes by to enquire. The meat is meltingly medium rare, the gravy a bit brown to my taste, but I have only compliments.

It's a fixed price £40 (though we hadn't known our specials would carry small surcharges), so you can choose which vegetables and potatoes you want with your mains — or you can let the woman decide for you. Everything seems done to please, to try to make sure you feel comfortable and satisfied.

As the plates are cleared the excitably camp pudding man bounds up, warning us about his few remaining crèmes brûlées ('So many people! 300 people!'), and regaling us about his bread puddings and cheesecake. We ask, then walk over to the dessert… More