A blast from the past

Growing up in the industrial wasteland of northern North Yorkshire, there wasn't much Chinese food to eat. It's changed now, of course, but then anything remotely exotic had to wait for foreign holidays or visits to London. And even then it wasn't much more than lots of sweet and sour stodged up with monosodium glutamate, inedible prawns, and duck that was as dry as a speech by Ed Balls on economic theory.

It was only after moving to London that I began to be educated in the proper arts of Chinese cuisine, by two great food disciples. One - a San Franciscan who taught my partner Guy at Cambridge - took us on a magical tour across some of the great Chinese restaurants of London. Sadly, his addiction to Chinese food and the beer that went with it probably contributed to his early demise. The other mentor was a wonderful friend in Los Angeles, who used to take me frequently to Mr Chow's in Beverly Hills. Indeed, it was at one of those dinners that I met Tina Brown, whom we are welcoming back to London for the debut of her new book about Princess Diana. Of course, it being LA, no one else was eating and hardly anyone was drinking. But all eyes were on Tina. Nothing changes really.

Its Knightsbridge sibling was the first Mr Chow and billed as the very first celebrity restaurant. It was conceived by an extraordinary self-publicist named Michael Chow who chose artists to paint him in return for their dinner. You can still see Sir Peter Blake's work in a cabinet by the door, but the Warhols and Hockneys have long since gone to one of Mr Chow's homes.

Stepping in from the traffic-clogged road outside, the room is intimate, the light flattering and there are scentless white roses on each table. One wall is lined with five framed pink satin hearts, which are supposed to denote the five ages of womanhood (don't ask me!), and there are silver lamps that look like salad dryers hanging from the ceiling. This is a Chinese restaurant, but not as you would know it. There are no chopsticks and all the waiters are Italian. And not one customer was Chinese.

I had taken the actress, the novelist and Guy. We were all ravenous (nothing new there) and the maitre d' offered to order for us, which was a relief.

Although we were given a little book with a extensive list of 'Mr Chow's VIPs' (Lauren Bacall, John Lennon, Bill Clinton), there was nobody remotely famous the night we were there. The restaurant boasts that Simon Cowell eats here three times a week.

We drank champagne as a dizzying succession of dishes began arriving. There were prawns and seaweed and lots of roasted walnuts. And chopped chicken with iceberg lettuce. A between-course sorbet was deliciously sharp and lemony but not what you'd expect. But maybe this was to get us in the mood for the next course, which was international rather than Asian: peppered steak with tasteless asparagus but delicious rice. The actress commented that the best bits of the menu were the superior versions of the old favourites I'd grown up with. Of course they were - which is why the giant prawn toast and sweet and sour prawns got top marks.

Then suddenly 'Showtime' was announced and a chef came into the centre of the room. Right next to our table he began to slap dough on to a board with a deafening noise. He was demonstrating how to make noodles and for one awful moment I thought he was going to ask for volunteers. Just as abruptly as he'd appeared, he was gone - to accompanying applause for 'Mr Chow's noodles!'

By the time we'd waded through everything on offer we were too full for pudding - and the chocolate mousse and strawberry tart wheeled out on an old-fashioned dessert trolley seemed curiously dated. Actually, the whole restaurant is dated - I doubt much has changed since its inception in 1968 - when the place was packed with the young and the hungry. Now it is full of the rich and well-fed.

But the avant-garde inevitably becomes part of the establishment. The bizarre becomes the familiar - just like sweet and sour. There is always an appetite for nostalgia. But for cutting-edge Mr Chow and the real celebrities, head for Beverly Hills.

Mr Chow
Knightsbridge, London, SW1X 7PA