Celeb hangout? Not likely

Like many other gossip addicts, my weekly trashfest bible is Heat magazine. Not given to mentioning restaurants much - other than for star-spotting purposes, often, bizarrely, in Wagamama - it still found space to name-check City newcomer Lanes, speculating that it was about to be something of a celeb magnet. If that's true (which I'm inclined to doubt), they must be seeking it out as an adrenaline antidote because we're talking deeply, faculty- dimming dull here.

Formerly one of those anachronistic wine bars the City goes in for, it now looks like the dining furniture floor in a suburban department store. There is simply nothing to distinguish the place.

The food was equally bland. I had to struggle to recall what we ate: an overcooked, grouty roast tomato and fennel risotto; the tastebud wallpaper that was cod with peas, pea pancakes and pea puree; both were eminently forgettable. Tender, lean lamb seemed to have had the flavour sucked out of it, not even the spark of chorizo or the crunch of rosti could save it from anonymity.

There was one surprisingly brilliant number, which shows the kitchen has the potential to pull it off: a tangle of excellent, silky pasta with generous chunks of perfectly cooked lobster, scented with a hint of vanilla. Service is sweet, house champagne divine but, amid the sombre suits, not a celebrity in sight.

Lanes Restaurant
Four Seasons Hotel, Hamilton Place, Park Lane, W1