From radio to restaurants

Roughly 12,000 people work in the BBC buildings around Wood Lane, in Shepherd's Bush. That's an awful lot of mouths that need feeding - so why does this corner of west London come across as such a culinary desert?

So uninspiring are the local pubs and restaurants that staff rarely leave the buildings. The in-house catering is getting better, but there are times when your lunch date or subject for discussion is such that the gossipy environment of Television Centre will not do. So where do you go to eat around Shepherd's Bush?

Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of the area - after all, I chose to live here years before I worked at the Beeb. But when those who used to work at Broadcasting House in W1 go all misty-eyed about lunchtimes around there, it's hard to defend the Bush. You have to be prepared to go farther afield, but even what we had nearby seems to be disappearing. The fantastic Maquis on Hammersmith Grove can only have lasted a year; Orsino's in Holland Park closed this summer; and what happened to the Halcyon? So when a new restaurant opens, word travels fast and you want to like it.

Edera, an Italian restaurant and bar on Holland Park Avenue, opened four months ago and has been full ever since. It's the latest venture of the A-Z restaurant group, which owns Zafferano.

It's obvious from the moment you walk in that they know what they're doing. The place is very slick: ultra-modern design, careful lighting, no paintings or pictures allowed to clutter the walls and, apart from a few splashes of orange, overwhelmingly brown - brown walls, brown lampshades, brown menus, even the chairs are covered in brown tweed. Perhaps inevitably this smooth, urbane look even extends to the customers. But doesn't this strike you as odd? Of perhaps 30 men in the room, only my husband's hair was long enough to touch his ears. It was one of the first things I noticed. It felt as if we were in an updated version of the Stepford Wives. That, or the sort of person drawn to Edera is a middleaged media type who tries to hide his balding pate with a crew cut.

The good news is that as much thought and attention to detail went into the food as the decor. The first thing placed on my wholly impractical but very stylish, grey slate placemat was an amuse bouche. Call me a philistine, but I've never understood the point of these mouthfuls. I usually think, "Stop faffing about and concentrate on my order". But that lamb crostini with onion marmalade did it for me - if they produce food like that, they can take all the time they want.

Not that they did, because the service was faultless. A team of black-shirted Italian waiters appeared with each course on an enormous tray at exactly the right moment. While I am an amateur, my husband is a professional. Having had his own restaurant, he now advises other people who want to open restaurants and hotels. I've never eaten with anyone so critical - and just imagine cooking for him. His antipasti choice of pig's head terrine, roasted asparagus and Tiger prawns, he declared "warm and mushy" and "not for the faint-hearted".

My simpler cauliflower soup with black olives was all it should be. For the pasta course, I chose cucumber-and-horseradishrisotto wrapped in salmon, a very rich but enjoyable mix. He opted for another antipasti dish, chicken carpaccio, French beans, beetroot and apple. The chicken had been poached in chicken stock, then very thinly sliced and covered in beans and ribbons of beetroot. The combination of textures and tastes worked superbly.

So far, so good. But when it came to the mains, we were most disappointed. My potatowrapped plaice fillet, garlic spinach and rosemary sauce sounded much better than it tasted, while his roasted leg of rabbit, stuffed with sausage and served with crunchy truffleperfumed lentils, sounded and tasted delicious - until, after only a few mouthfuls, he found the rabbit raw inside.

A pudding of spiced roast pineapple came with what looked like a caramelised chilli sitting on top. I take the view that if something is on my plate, I'm meant to eat it - within reason, of course - so I nibbled. What a mistake.