Chelsea Brasserie

Time seemingly stands still: this could be the 1980s, or the 1990s, given the red walls, exposed brickwork and cacophonous mix of big, bold paintings (some with aggressive-looking abstract swishes).

The Chelsea Brasserie is bigger than you'd imagine, stretching into an extensive L-shape beyond the modest entrance on Sloane Square. The top-notch location brings bustle, especially pre- and post-theatre (the Royal Court is just across the square), but not noteworthy dining.

Head chef Simon Henbery's menu of European stalwarts is perfectly adequate, albeit with occasional pretensions to something more: terrine de foie gras is served with Poilâne bread, for instance, and a dessert wine is from a region 'close to Sauternes'.

A glistening chickpea and chorizo starter was light and well balanced; poached hake fillet moist, if burdened with a still-cold doubloon of parsley and lemon butter. A flavourful grilled pork chop with cider jus worked well with the tangy celeriac and apple remoulade.

Service seemed a little smug, which was a shame, as this is a serviceable stop-off, if not a destination in its own right.