Babylon falls short of paradise

This review was first published in November 2001

The Kensington Roof Gardens is a place upon which I have never really managed to get adequate purchase. Perhaps because on the occasions I visited it as a youngster, I tended to be in a state of advanced 'refreshment'. Besides, when you are six or seven storeys above London, wandering around a garden stuffed with trees and Iberian architectural details stalked by flamingos (very Miami Vice) and then stumbling into a disco, your grip on reality is not what it might be.

Once known as Derry and Toms, a sort of high-Victorian Harrods, the place was taken over by John Barker & Co in 1920 and rebuilt in the Thirties, from which time the roof garden dates. In the early Seventies it became Biba, part acid trip, part retail experience. Now the building is shared by GAP and M&S. If I'd had so many makeovers I, too, would be confused, especially if someone plonked a high-ticket, modern British restaurant on top of me.

Although the address is Kensington High Street, the entrance is on Derry Street. You could be forgiven for thinking you were looking at an after-hours office block - name plates, a bank of lifts, a security guard behind a desk. The only hint of the hospitality industry at work was a woman with a clipboard, who checked my booking and ushered me into a lift.

The restaurant itself is above-average modern British in appearance - a little as if someone has crossed the style of David Collins with the set design for a sub-Barbarella movie. Unfortunately, my visit took place long after sunset, so I was in no position to appreciate what I understand is a good view of West London.

Easily the best decorative feature at Babylon are the fishtanks screening off the lowered seating area opposite the bar. By far the worst is what I presume is intended as works of art, which look disconcertingly like furry aircon outlets, easily mistaken for a breeding ground for legionnaires' disease. It might well put you off your yoghurt and spice marinated corn-fed chicken with aubergine pur?e and asparagus.

It is perhaps better to dwell on the aquarium. The polychromatic aquatic display laid on by our piscatorial friends is quite something, and I perked them up no end by bashing the side of the tank with my Brigg umbrella.

The human content of Babylon was no less diverting. A cross-section of post-dress-down-Friday British office workers were enjoying pre-prandial beverages. At the bar, my date, Tatler's motoring correspondent, looked fetching in a Starsky-style cardigan, while Prince and Princess Pignatelli were 'sharing a joke'. The whole thing was like a cross between a dodgy fashion shoot and a page from Hello!

We were led down the long, thin dining room by a solicitous member of staff. Only two things spoiled the effect. The first was the risible spectacle of a fireplace at about chest height, gas-fired, of course, and under it a redundant pile of logs.

The second was the food: it is not bad, just not as good as some I have eaten of late at, say, Conrad Gallagher. In fact, if you combined the cooking at Gallagher's with the surroundings and location of Babylon you would have a surprisingly good restaurant. As it is, the cooking here is perfectly adequate without being pyrotechnically brilliant.

Some dishes, for example the lime-marinated halibut with papaya, green peppercorn, virgin olive oil and corn lettuce, were rather mean. Summer vegetable risotto, though perfectly pleasant, should not have been on the menu at this stage - it might have been more seasonally correct had it been mushroom risotto. The menu seemed to be leaning in the right direction with caramelised Gloucestershire Old Spot pork tenderloin; and the appearance of angel on horseback and colcannon as a garnish with roast cod was a witty touch.

There is also a quality I'd describe as an agreeable correctness about the way things are done here. We were joined by a third person who wanted a starter served at the same time as our main courses. While we had our first courses, an elegant mound of leaves was placed before her so she did not feel left out.