A load of Pap

The popularity of Drury Lane's Sarastro has prompted the launch of a second-string Covent Garden operation - offering a similar experience - on the site previously occupied by Old Orleans.

The interior recycles that venue's Louisiana bordello vibe. I imagine a full-on gold paint job and the introduction of some operatic objects are intended as an amusing representation of Papageno the Magic Flute bird-catcher's gilded cage, but it just looks vulgar.

The overwrought decor and tacky trimmings - drip-dry velveteen napkins and tablecloths anyone? - easily upstaged food as poor as I've wrestled with all year.

The huge room was chilly, which might account for our novel aperitif - warm Fino in a brandy glass to partner tired cruditès and dip - a ginger-laced slurry.

Anaemic lentil soup was tepid and pointless, while my date's criminally overcooked Scallops Sarastro featured chanterelles and briny artichokes, duetting discordantly with a cloying gloop - mousseline? Hollandaise? Custard? Who could say?

Unassured service coughed up pneumatic lamb meatballs with rice for my date to chew on, while I lamented my £15 main, a sad sole meuniëre with clapped-out, claggy flesh in frazzled skin and some 'new' potatoes - as in 'new when Amadeus were a lad'? - mealy, deep-freeze disasters.

Puddings? Are you kidding? Feeling like walk-ons in some third-rate production, we legged it. And no chance of an encore either.

Papageno
29-31 Wellington Street, WC2E 7DB