Portman

Sitting in the ground-floor pub of The Portman, I had a realisation: gastropubs are the new Berni Inns. Or at least they are in this part of town, where diners might pop in for a breakfast fry-up, a sandwich or a burger while en route to a more significant assignation.

The Portman's ground floor has a fairly standard drinks list (Pride and Deuchars the brews of choice), plus an extensive pub menu. There was a lively hubbub on our evening visit, as small groups of pals nattered, drank and tucked in.

The first floor dining room, in contrast, was a quiet as a seance. It gives the impression of being much pricier, in both more sumptuous looks and fancier menu. However, our waitress told us it was fine to order from the cheaper downstairs menu if we wanted to.

Fish and chips from the pub menu was a smallish piece of pollack in a firm carapace, balanced on some firm chips; the mushy peas promised on the menu didn't arrive.

Carpaccio of venison was perhaps the most adventurous dish, but the portion was meagre and the raw meat barely distinguishable from beef.

The upstairs menu includes some well-made dishes such as a crab tart, tasting clearly of saffron. Considerable effort has gone into presentation, such as with the trio of desserts: a tiny crème brûlée, a blackberry fool, some blueberry crumble.

Yet The Portman didn't quite come together. The service on our visit was a muddle, with orders either slow or forgotten. The dishes were adequate, rather than good. Most of the action was happening in the ground-floor pub, yet when we left at 9.40pm, the room had mostly emptied out. A Berni Inn for the modern age.