A very welcoming, very safe, very Mayfair restaurant, Alloro’s formula is withstanding the test of time. Decor is reassuringly beige, gold and dark wooded; staff are warm, solicitous and proper. Diners are pretty well bound to find something that appeals: meat, fish and vegetarian; dishes both refined and rustic; wines ranging from bank-breaking Sassicaia (or Burgundy, if you must) to modestly priced, delightful examples served by the glass. What’s not to like? In fact, a few elements niggled on our visit. Our meal evidenced an accountant’s beady eye: too many dishes demand a supplement, even at the simple level of parma ham, and a handful of rocket was the ubiquitous accompaniment to most of what we ordered. Tomatoes also seemed to take a starring role but failed to shine in their own right. And desserts were safe to the point of nursery-ensconced, from tiramisu to a bland and firm milk chocolate and orange mousse. Highlights were a prawn and curry potato ravioli with courgette cream, and a zingily dressed chargrilled tuna steak. Beef tagliata was also expertly executed, and the Ligurian oil and breads for dipping were a treat. The roomful of executive types seemed perfectly happy.