Class act to follow

There's a peculiar culture clash at the bar of the World's End. Traditionally it served the meaner local elements, but since late spring has been speaking the language of pub downstairs, smart dining room up. A sulkily confident estate girl sat by the lavs, alone but for her cheap fags and Bacardi, while 25 jolly, cheery Fulham sorts elsewhere helped to neuter the atmosphere.

Upstairs, the dining room is impeccably neutral, all seagrass, restored original fireplace and various shades of beige. The chairs are comfortable, upholstered in a soft plush fabric, offering my bum a blissful break from the usual pub chair.

The only bum notes came in the flat, bright lighting and hastily put up 'exhibition' of unframed photos of India or Sri Lanka or some such. They looked a bit crap next to the expensive curtains.

Nice staff took and delivered orders efficiently. Bread was the part-baked type - warm, with the butter possessing a rare, freshly churned proper buttery taste. The menu was tempting and just the right side of familiar. Starters included seared queen scallops and black pud, ogen melon with tawny port and potted mackerel, horseradish cream and melba toast, which I chose. Now, nothing annoyingly wrong here, but the mackerel was so permeated with melted butter that each mouthful was a clump of white fish flesh and yellow fat. A weird trio, but delicious.

The cream was smooth and hot, and when I could build a mouthful that was more fish than fat, complemented the flavours. My mate, the tabloidtastic Emma Sayle, had some asparagus, which disappeared completely under the odd accompaniment of a big wedge of sharp, creamy goat's cheese and perfect salty lardons.

Sensitively cooked, pearlescent cod suffered from the same odd-but-forgivable aspect as the asparagus, with its salty and spicy couscous full of dense and full-flavoured pumpkin and raisins. Emma's chicken with lentils, bacon and tarragon jus was just bingo, with chicken as it should be: crispy, caramelised, moist and identifiably fowl (as opposed to fishy foul) tasting. Side order veg were al dente.

The wine list ranges from £10-£30ish, and covers all taste bases - there's DP 96 at £125 for celebrations, reasonably priced unlike the Fosters downstairs for £3.

From the plasma screens and quiet design, I suspect they want to be a class-neutral, well-behaved, local. The ingredients are far too good for the prices to continue to be this low. The owner went outside to hail our cab. This is a pleasant, understated spot, yet to find its feet, but worth a look.

The World's End
459 King's Road, SW10 0LR