A sporting chance for Chariots

Now I love Canary Wharf, especially at night; I find its Blade Runnerish majesty truly awesome (try Docklands Light Railway at dusk for a trip that rivals Technicolor Disney at its best). So I'm happy to make the journey to check out a new restaurant in the manor, particularly one that offers a view.

I'm also happy to do something I'd normally rather open a vein than do: cross the portals of a sports club.

I waited, braced, for the bolt of lightning to hit me. In fact, the view - mostly of Canada Square and the lower reaches of the iconic pointytopped tower - afforded us a ringside seat for some poor soul being stretchered into an ambulance. Aha, my date and I nodded sagely to each other, the wages of over-exercising.

We were concerned that the food might err too much on the healthy side for our sybaritic tastes but we needn't have worried. There wasn't really any menu to worry about. As a reward for sitting in an environment reminiscent of a Travel Inn breakfast bar - we were flanked by a lengthy self-service section, for God's sake - we were told that only the bar menu was available. Terrific.

The charm and helpfulness of the staff and the substance of the bar menu stopped us from sulking too unattractively, though. And the cooking and ingredients turned out to be mostly pretty good. Executive chef Clive Howe comes with a weighty background - he worked with Anton Mosimann and at the redoubtable Lygon Arms in the Cotswolds - and clearly runs a tight ship. One wonders what attracted him to this high-rolling spot in this high-spending environment. It sure as heck wasn't the decor.

Howe's aim is 'to produce great tasting dishes using healthy cooking techniques'. Thankfully, there wasn't too much of that sort of thinking behind what we ate. My selection of Spanish charcuterie and tapas-y bits and pieces was a solid, cleverly sourced assortment of the likes of great, punchy jamon, rocket with pungent slivers of anchovy and excellent black olive paste. Chargrilled prawns in a gorgeous and luxuriously dressed little gem salad were meaty, substantial and packed with flavour. Breads were good.

My main course couldn't have been starchier or less conducive to a bout of pilates if it tried: two massive, rather woody chorizo sausages balanced on a heaving mass of mash moated with vinous, herby lentils. Dense, Desperate Dan stuff. And a risotto with red wine and wild mushrooms was hefty, hip-damaging comfort food: creamy with a perfectly timed 'bite' to each grain of rice.

What we spent (£78 for two with a good New Zealand Sauvignon, water and service) seemed about right for the wood-veneer, dull, corporate, prosaic surroundings - sorry, that's how it is, view or no view, decent food or not. How Howe's (sorry) highfalutin carte - signature dish: steamed sea bass with Asian greens in a carrot and anise broth - will translate here is anyone's guess; mine is that we want more comfort and glamour for our buck.

This is not a place to linger over the Armagnac: we were turfed out at ten. Certainly, if you're inclined to replace some of those lost calories after a vigorous something-or-other (I don't do sports clubs, remember) it's a valuable spot. But it's not worth crossing town - or even Canada Square - for.

Chariots
The Reebok Sports Club, 16-19 Canada Square, E14 5ER