Canyon offer not so grand

There are not many days of the London year where a boulder-strewn, cactus-planted, stone-washed riverside terrace of Mojave inspiration could look plausible on Richmond's Riverside, but last Thursday slapped one on us. The sun did its fiery bit; all that was missing were the turkey vultures, the tumbleweed and the decaying car wrecks.

In their place, pale children sucked orange lollies, riverboat barkers ribbed shandy-fuelled grandmothers, and some of the capital's most oddly contoured bodies were exposed for universal delectation. Canyon, the Montana group's claw on the Thames, reached out to grasp its destiny.

I'd been drawn there by a promising offer: half-price on any wine listed at more than £30 in one of the group's five restaurants during August and September. Before you get too excited, though, let me tell you about the small print. It's essentially for second visits: the offer is only valid on production of a card, which is given you with your bill when you visit first.

Cross-examination of manager Max Alderman revealed the cards, which are valid for two-course meals between Sunday and Thursday, are only issued at weekends. I was led to believe there was an aged Ridge Geyserville from 1985 on the list, which at half price would have cost a reasonable £35 and almost satisfied my quest (thank you all for your help - more anon) for mature wine at that price or less. It was missing. The offer began to look less promising.

But, hey, the sun was shining. These wine lists, assembled by Kate Thal, intrigue: lots of Californian wines with a welcome ABC (Anything But Chardonnay) emphasis, as well as a seasoning from odd-ball alternatives like Bandol, the Alto Adige and Tasmania. Thal admires the organic approach, and wines made with that philosophy in mind are picked out on the list; short tasting notes are also laudably supplied.

The fun with the over-£30-at-half-price offer was that it rendered wines such as a '96 Hermitage perversely cheaper than an ordinary Rioja, or a flashy Californian Viognier cheaper than an Italian Pinot Bianco. It felt, in other words, like cheating.

Canyon is a sommelier-free zone, and our waiter Jonathan Harvey proved hazy on white-wine advice and passed entirely on the reds ("I'm not a red man myself"). Youthful indiscretions were to blame, we discovered later. Under these circumstances, I always pick wines I've never tried and, as usual, I blew it completely. Since white Rhone wines are a secret passion, I took a punt on the 1999 Qup? Marsanne, reasoning that this Californian should have some of the fat, oily, hauntingly floral character of a good white Hermitage. It didn't. It had little aroma of any sort, and a bizarrely acidic, rigid flavour, like a Muscadet that's secretly been weight-training under cover of darkness. Early-picked or over-acidified? Either way, a flop, even at £17 (half the usual £34). The tasting notes said "ripe white peach and cream flavours". Peach at a push, but no sign of any cream for me. Waiter Jonathan agreed, offering (the lad has a sense of humour) to bring us a supplementary jugful of the white stuff.

The 1996 Edmeades Pinot Noir Ancient Vines from north of San Francisco in the Anderson Valley sounded like a good red to accompany fish (monkfish) and a roasted vegetable tart, and it was chilled to our request. When it was poured, though, it glowered darkly in the glass as Pinot never really should, and there was no mention of the promised senior-citizen vines on the label. In place of the strawberry fragrances the list tasting note suggested, we found only the vanilla of white oak, while in the mouth this was an inky, raw bruiser, completely misconceived in winemaking terms. Pinot Noir needs a ballerina's touch, whereas these grapes had felt a wrestler's undercarriage squeeze. I was gutted - though paying £16, rather than £32, took away some of the pain. Jonathan told me he had tasted it and didn't like it either. I should, of course, have played safe and picked the 1997 Jade Mountain Viognier (£55 to £27.50) and the 1994 Ridge Bridgehead Mataro (£45 to £22.50). All of these prices attract the usual 12.5 per cent "discretionary" service charge.

The food does not encourage a second visit. Crispy gulf prawns were battered and deep-fried, served atop a "gingered vegetable slaw" of unappetising brown colour and monotonous sweet-and-sour flavour, while the Canyon smoked fish cakes were dumpy and dull. Had we known the prawns were battered, we might have avoided the fried fish of the day, which had not unnaturally undergone the same treat-ment. Worst of all was the "roast vegetable tart", in fact a kind of multi-veg pile-up bulldozed unceremoniously into a dry filo case and interred beneath copious mizuna. There was no sign of these poor, watery plants having ever looked a roasting tray in the eyes, while the promised goat's cheese had dissolved into curdled fragments. Having learned the sopapillas were also deep-fried, we avoided those and shared an autopilot lemon-and-lime tart without any of the bracing contrasts its name suggested.

But, hey, the sun was shining.

Canyon, Riverside, Richmond (020 8948 2944); Dakota, 127 Ledbury Road, Notting Hill, W11 (020 7792 9191); Idaho, 13 North Hill, Highgate, London, N6 (020 8341 6633); Montana, 125-129 Dawes Road, Fulham, SW6 (020 7385 9500); Utah, 18 High Street, Wimbledon, SW19 (020 8944 1909).