Focus on the food

I can't imagine the languid Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen getting into a temper. A mild snit, perhaps, or a fit of pique. But I'm going to risk it anyway, because I reckon his first commercial design - a bar and restaurant complex in Greenwich - looks as though his time spent tarting up suburban semis has left an indelible mark.

A lot of effort and loot has been thrown at Inc (previously called Time), and it's in a handsome building fringing the market. But it comes across as disjointed and lacking in focus.

The main section (The Pit Bar) features some gorgeous stuff: globular, handblown glass light fittings; groovy radiators; digital screens in shiny metal, sunburst-style frames. A stunning collection of antique clocks is artfully arranged behind the bar. And what a bar: back-lit panels decorated with luminous, sweetie-like, semi-precious stones that look dazzling. Too dazzling, actually - standing at it made you look as though you were doing one of those scary, torch-up-the-face tricks. I'm no Llewelyn-Bowen, but you'd think he'd spot the benefits of softer wattage.

But nothing hung together: it was as uncomfortable a mix as its clientele, a jittery collection of middle-class, middle-aged locals, gals who looked like Pop Idol rejects and a very dodgy element indeed. No apparent demarcation between bar and restaurant made for an edgy experience. I've never been anywhere where a punter has lifted the chair from my table to accommodate their pint-drinking pal.

The place goes on. There's The Balcony (teetering above The Pit, where they would have positioned the restaurant if they'd thought about it properly) and Larry's Bar (Barratt Homes lounge in shades of bilious green, complete with portrait of the eponymous Mr L-B). In The Divan (a tiny, dimly lit space), signs announce darkly: 'Warning. This area contains explicitly pornographic wallpaper'. Really? I had to put on glasses and peer embarrassingly closely before I could make out the teensiest sign of untoward behaviour.

Sorry, I digress. With all this hooha it's easy to forget about the food. Which you'd have every right to expect to be little more than an afterthought. In fact, like the punctilious staff, it's a whole lot better than it needs to be. They've kept it simple-ish: interesting starters and puddings combined with some sound, straightforward grills - sirloin, veal, various cuts of lamb and pork, poulet noir, even ostrich.

A chicken broth with chicken and herb dumplings lacked depth, and its wee round dumplings were polystyrene bouncy, but my foie gras and pickled pork terrine was an excellent, hefty dod of hearty, rilletteish pork interlaced with loads of silky liver. Luxurious onion cream and fat caperberries added to the fun.

My entrecee of rare-breed beef - 'from a herd of only 40 cattle' - was well-done rather than the requested medium-rare. It was replaced graciously and the full cost deducted from the bill, but boy, did I feel bad about polishing off not one but two of the poor beasts. Damn fine slab of protein, though. Salmon, correctly seared and with a spiky salsa verde, was good; so many side dishes came that we had a bit of a hostess trolley moment. Doughnuts - fluffy, cigar-shaped churros, rather - arrived with a dangerously addictive chocolate sauce.

This was an unusual case of substance over style. 'I've been crushingly bored with cliche-ridden, minimalist restaurants and bar interiors that patronise customers with acres of samey design,' Mr Llewelyn-Bowen tells us. I see. So he's patronised us with this incoherent, diner-unfriendly piece of nonsense instead.

INC Bar & Restaurant
7 College Approach, SE10 9HY