Bank on a good time at Bonds

This review was published in July 2002

Confession first: we only paid half price for our meal at Bonds in the heart of the City, the maitre d' telling us from the outset that things might not run perfectly smoothly since it was only the second night of opening.

It's always difficult to be critical in the face of this kind of generosity and I feel mean about mentioning the mint julep made with neat bourbon; or the Harvey's Bristol Cream and Croft Original presented after a request for dry sherry; or the very sweet staff's rather evident lack of experience. Nobody knew what the dishes constituted, what cheeses there were or whether a pricey Montbazillac was corked (it was, to be fair, replaced smartish).

It seems odd of owners The Eton Group to spend millions - £17.5million apparently - on a luxury boutique hotel and then skimp on the hiring of properly trained waiting staff and bar-people.

Still, it's a striking place, a mix of wrought-iron and pillared grandeur (it's a former banking hall) with truly smart big-city chic. The magnificent, original stained-glass cupola in the reception casts a honeyed light on to an impressive space. The massive spend can be discerned in every panel of polished wood, the rather beautiful staff uniforms, the quality of the tweed and leather upholstery. It promises great things.

When you realise our half-price bill still came to about £80, you'll get an idea of the prices. These, and the bellowing from the bar, leave you in little doubt as to your location. Head Chef Tom Ilic has emigrated from Hampstead's now defunct (and, curiously, critically acclaimed) New End restaurant; his menu - with its sweetbreads, braised pig cheeks and black pudding - could be described as challenging.

Perversely, there's an appealing and innovative separate vegetarian menu at a rather more gentle £16.50 for two courses from which came my starter, a twice-baked blue cheese soufflè with hazelnut and pear salad. This was translated as a firm but light and headily flavoured soufflè, surrounded by strips of poached pear, a couple of leaves of frisèe and a smattering of nut crumbs. It was good, but less than the sum of its parts.

Our other starter, an unusual combination of dense rabbit raviolo with langoustines, spring vegetables and a frothy seafood 'nage' worked rather better, the contrasting flavours and textures complementing each other well.

The staff's inexperience jinxed my main-course choice. To be honest, had I known my assiette of pork would feature pig's heart marinated for three days in Chardonnay and shallots - not to mention a dense slab of pork belly (described by the waiter as fillet) on a ring of apple - I might not have been in such a hurry to order it. Thank God for the blameless nuggets of tenderloin (described by the waiter as heart...) on a fine sauerkrauty tangle of cabbage in the centre.

The heart was less offally than I feared, fashioned into a mahogany brown faggot of intensely tender, darkly flavoured meat - a demonstration of a love for and an artistry with some lesser-loved innards. As a dish, it was a bit of a baptism by fire, but well executed nonetheless. The other main course, a slightly puddingy risotto with peas, marjoram and truffle oil, seemed anodyne by comparison.

Nobody knew what our cheeses were (an artisan cheddar, excellent stilton and an ash-cured goat with irresistible home-made biscuits); the vast portion and somewhat sweaty condition were, I guess, the result of ours being one of only two occupied tables. They must have just decided to sling the lot at us.

Despite the gremlins, Bonds has got a lot going for it. Sharper staff training and a few more punters could turn it into a right little City bonus.