Savoy Grill

The last time I ate at the Savoy Grill was in 2003, when chef Marcus Wareing was in charge. My lasting impression was of a nice room, but filled with people who bore uncanny resemblances to Ann Widdecombe or Andrew Neil. Perhaps the passing of seven years has softened my brain, but the clientele has definitely got better looking; either that, or the media pundits and captains of industry have moved on.

To one side was a smoochy Italian couple; to the other, a table of Estuary Essex workmates working their way through celebratory magnums of Champagne. 'It was a good year on the forecourt,' one of them explained to the waiter.

The glamour of the Savoy Grill (established 1889) has only been enhanced by its recent three-year renovation. The room is suitably low-lit, the pillars are covered in a burgundy acrylic glass which looks like the deepest layer of polished lacquer you've ever seen. The high tables with oddly low chairs are cleverly arranged into islands and booths, giving the right balance of intimacy and openness. A deep, springy carpet cushions the noise. Heavy, expensive silverware is used for everything from the salt and pepper grinder to the ice buckets. It looks opulent without being vulgar.

The kitchen brigade is once again from the Gordon Ramsay Holdings stable - and if our most recent visit was anything to go by, this is one of the troubled group's better new restaurants (there are currently nine in London). GRH has created a menu which nods to tradition, so as not to scare off the dowagers. It nods, but doesn't kowtow, because concessions are made to modernity - the separate vegetarian menu is an appealing read, for example.

There is grills and seafood aplenty, but it's the more imaginative British dishes which show the kitchen's talents. A starter of potted salt beef was slow-cooked and tender, the appealing texture being more impressive than the delicate taste. Large crispbreads made from buckwheat flour were good for scooping up the buttery, salty strands of meat.

A 'mutton pie' was a clever play on shepherd's pie, with a potato garnish piped on top of a neat cylinder of dark, intensely flavoured, slow-cooked meat. Worcestershire sauce in the stew added complexity to the already deep flavours of the mutton; it's a stunning, though very rich, dish.

Not everything went as smoothly as you'd hope for in a restaurant where the bill will be on the far side of a ton for two. One of our starters, the eggs en cocotte, was so overcooked you could have played billiards with the yolks, but they're meant to be soft. And our waitress inexplicably disappeared for around 25 minutes, leaving us with no wines to accompany our main courses. But we forgave these shortcomings with the arrival of the desserts, which included a baked Alaska, with Grand Marnier flambéed at the table and a pretty, warm meringue but Arctic centre of mandarin sorbet, and a steamed pudding of rum and raisins in a moat of custard - the pudding using a properly British, properly restrained amount of cinnamon.

The Savoy Grill can be expensive, but it's not overpriced. Where the budget's likely to be blown is on wine, because wines by the (175ml) glass approach the price you pay for the same bottle from an off-licence. And that innocent offer of a glass of Champagne when you arrive will turn up on the bill at £12.50. This practice isn't uncommon in smart hotel restaurants; just be forewarned. Think of it as a tax on the magnum-quaffing classes. But the biggest obstacle to enjoying the Savoy Grill is getting in: when we checked on December 9, it claimed to be fully booked for the whole of December, and many of the choice sittings for January were also already taken. Book well ahead.