A very corporate affair

Ah, how Notting Hill has changed. Back in the Eighties, many a night would find me washed up in a private members' club called the Globe in a seedy little area known as Crack Square.

Class-A drugs weren't the only things on offer at the Globe. I once spotted an A-list Hollywood actress in the corner, trawling for rough trade. All I can say is, she'd come to the right place.

Judging from the property prices, this particular part of Notting Hill isn't referred to as Crack Square any more. Last month, a storage cupboard on the third floor of an Edwardian block in nearby Pembridge Villas was let for £582 per month.

One of its main attractions, according to the estate agent who rented it, is its proximity to The Ledbury, a new restaurant that, if I'm not mistaken, is actually next door to the building that used to house the Globe. Some would call this progress, but I'm not so sure.

As a temple to London's haute bourgeoisie, The Ledbury is practically faultless. With its black-and-white décor, its 26-year-old Australian chef and its £55 per person tasting menu ('To be taken by the entire table'), it strikes just the right balance between fashionable flippancy and culinary seriousness.

It's a destination restaurant for people who like to travel without leaving their social orbit. It flatters its patrons that they've arrived at a place where money alone isn't sufficient to guarantee entry and that, in turn, makes them happy to part with £100 for a bottle of wine.

It's part of a group of London restaurants owned by Nigel Platts-Martin and Philip Howard that includes The Square in Mayfair, Chez Bruce in Wandsworth and La Trompette in Chiswick.

They are, I suppose, the Chris Corbin and Jeremy King of their generation, except it's hard to imagine anyone loving these restaurants as much as The Ivy, Le Caprice and J Sheekey. For all the thought that's gone into the design of The Ledbury, it has a slightly corporate, antiseptic air.

The blackness of the staff's uniforms is as much a tribute to the customers' American Express cards as it is to anything a little more downtown. In Notting Hill this season, black is the new grey.

In fairness, the 26-year-old Australian chef knows his onions even if they have been steamed, pulverised and reduced to within an inch of their lives. My starter of terrine of lobster, trout, leeks and potatoes - accompanied by frogs' leg - was as exquisite as it sounds, while my main course of roast pigeon with foie gras tortellini floating in a cèpe and Madeira consommé was pretty outstanding.