All quiet on the eastern front

When we arrived at 8.30pm at Pengelley's pan-Asian restaurant and bar in what was Monte's on Sloane Street, we were expecting a bustling joint. So we were surprised that only seven of the 30-odd tables were occupied.

A mate of mine had said we'd struggle to get a table at short notice as he had passed the place on Saturday and there had been a queue outside. Indeed, when I had asked for a table for two at 7.30pm I was told they could only do 6.45pm or 8.30pm.

Anyone with young kids will know that both times are a pain - 6.45pm is still the negotiation time between cartoons and bath, and 8.30pm means you won't be eating until 9, which is about 50 minutes before you want them to be in bed to preempt the dawn cries of " Muuuummmmeeee".

"Maybe they do two sittings," said my wife Kaz, but in truth we could easily have been served an hour before. Sloane Street had been dark and empty, and Pengelly's seemed intent on continuing the theme. The place had that blanket look of middle-aged wealth, with huge modern oil paintings and the odd ancient looking statue and mud-black lampshades.

On arriving and giving my name, the doorman dourly said: "We're a bit disappointed. We thought it was ..." "The other James Brown," I finished for him. Nice welcome.

We were shown to a table next to a single man, but before we could even sit down the maitre d' saw the mistake and rightly ushered us along a few tables to allow the gentleman, and ourselves, some privacy.

Already I was looking forward to the food lifting the evening, as the atmosphere was non-existent. People were whispering their conversations over a hushed ambient house CD that had a bass which sounded ominously like the blip of a life-support machine. It doesn't matter how great the food or décor is, you don't want to be in a restaurant that is so quiet you can hear the clack of the waitress's heels. It felt like sitting an exam.

Thankfully our giant waiter got over his early nerves - he offered us the fillet of the day without actually saying what it was a fillet of - and proved to be friendly, attentive and funny. "This side's cold and that side's hot," he joked about the menu, and he was right. Sushi and starters to the left and main courses to the right. As we scanned the décor, a delicious garlic-and-chive dumpling unexpectedly arrived with a handful of edamame beans.

Often when someone plops a complimentary appetiser you're expected to somehow suck a quails egg out of a tiny mug of mushroom soup. This, however, was an exceptional statement of intent.

It was followed by our order of sushi, including two no-nonsense spicy tuna handrolls, some salmon rolls, a tempura prawn roll and a soft-shell crab roll. A new sushi waiter had pointed to the soya sauce and told me it was wasabi for the sushi. Thank God the chef knew what he was doing.