A Eurotrash treat

A grumpy man wrote to me recently: I had objected to the middle-aged-snogging, boozy-bellowing, smoke-spewing and altogether oafish punters in his establishment.

Can you, he asked waspishly, review customers? Well, of course you can.

We review restaurants and restaurants are about so much more than food. Which is why, despite a menu that didn't knock us senseless with innovation or outrè ingredients, we are giving Papillon four stars.

This is a belter. Take the customers (OK, Mr Grumpy?). Anyone shallow enough to thrill to the glossies' party pages couldn't help but be entranced.

Exotic creature after exotic creature wafted through the doors - from brittle, glittery posh totty to Kissingerish oldies - the whole bunch dusted with a scintillating veneer of Eurotrashiness. Rubbernecker heaven.

Then there's the interior by Russell Sage, better known as a fashion designer.

He has created something that looks like a venerable Parisian bistro crossed with the atelier of a histrionic, luxury-loving and slightly camp couturier.

Dozens of softly glowing glass lampshades illuminate rich fabrics, polished wood and allround gorgeousness.

Long French windows are thrown open to covetable street tables. OK, I'm gushing - but, as Papillon's denizens would likely drawl, I am loving it.

I think I ate chef David Duverger's cooking at Beauberry House in Dulwich (recently made-over yet again) and was less than kind.

Either he wasn't in the kitchen that day or his ability has come on in leaps and bounds.

From a menu that echoes the bistro moderne movement that's raged through Paris -traditional bistro cooking with a haute-ish twist, so you get pigs' trotters with foie gras and wild mushrooms, or braised beef cheek in its own consommè - we ate lavishly and well.

Quenelles of trout (poached dumplings) came as one surprisingly large, pneumatic brute in a pool of foamed Sauce Nantua (creamy crayfish).

Then its twin arrived in another dish - a piece of eccentric generosity. They were subtle and springy.

My circle of foie gras torchon in a cut-out brioche was like a millionaire's Gala Pie: luxurious comfort food.