Great Queen Street is simply the best

I once asked a Freemason why he wanted to be a member of a secret society and his reply has stayed with me ever since. 'We are not a secret society,' he said sternly. 'We are a society with secrets.' Ah, secrets. They get a shocking press. In our tell-all society, keeping stuff hidden is seen as something of a Machiavellian trait. That secrecy only equals power. But I think of secrecy as enigmatic, adding complex layers to dull lives.

What brought that Masonic conversation to mind was eating an alfresco dinner last week at Great Queen Street, which is situated opposite the Freemason headquarters - or the United Grand Lodge of England (UGLE, and ugly it is).

But aesthetics aside, seeing streams of Identikit-smart masons streaming out past a restaurant, which is as camp as the name suggests, seemed as incongruous as Bill Clinton embracing celibacy. Witnessing the effortless coexistence of such polar opposites made me glow with pride. How diverse and inclusive a society Britain has become.

Great Queen Street is nothing to look at from the outside, where a few scruffy tables sit perched uncomfortably on the pavement. Inside, it's not much better. Brick-red (and peeling) walls, a shortage of natural light and a giant fan whirring on the ceiling gave the room a very Spanish flavour. Downstairs, there's a candlelit bar area that is even darker. Menus are flimsy printed sheets of A4 paper with the restaurant's logo of a crown flanked by a knife and fork. Sweet.

I had taken the actress since, once again, she's not working and says, 'The only decent meal I ever get is with you, darling!' She'd spent the afternoon at Tate Britain, which is celebrating 250 years of William Blake, whom I've always found to be a rather crude and hysterical artist, but then, he hated science, which I adore.

Our waiter brought us crusty bread and a little pot of butter, which was as rich as Tony Blair. I started with cold asparagus soup, which was deliciously seasoned and deliciously seasonal - even if it did look like something you might find in a gastroenterology ward. The actress chose bresaola with fig. The fruit was perfectly ripe, the meat succulent and the dish was drizzled with olive oil so delicious the actress said she wanted to lap it up, like a kitten.

Applying the Never Eat What You Could Have At Home rule, I chose quails, lentils and yoghurt, which was simple and robust and made me feel as if I'd actually eaten something that was good for me. And because she's unlikely to get a holiday this year, the actress opted for crab on toast which is one of the restaurant's specialities. The crab was the colour of dark sand and made her want to wear a Kiss Me Quick hat. She also ordered a side of chips and these were extraordinary - huge, asymmetrical golden wedges, sprinkled with rock salt. So good, in fact, that the couple on the next table were openly drooling at them, and when we offered them one, they pounced! These were the only chips I've ever given 10/10.

Even the puddings were imaginative, with no sign of the ubiquitous crème br°lée or chocolate mousse which infiltrates menus everywhere. My buttermilk pudding tasted silky and lemony, like a lighter version of those baked cheesecakes that you never see any more. And it was accompanied by perfectly poached gooseberries, an underrated and underused fruit.

But it was the actress's ice cream that stole the show in a quiet blaze of glory: two gleaming scoops of praline and chocolate malt that were so obviously homemade (as were the accompanying chocolate chip cookies) that we found ourselves exclaiming aloud. It seemed extraordinary that we were sitting in the centre of Covent Garden eating food that tasted as if it had been rustled up by an army of Women's Institute workers.

Great Queen Street offers the best food, the best value and the best service, and you should book a table there before it becomes the hottest place in town. When we ate there it was already pretty full, with a surprisingly diverse selection of customers - young, hip, powerful, gay, straight --but there was also a retired couple (the chippinchers!) who were munching cheese and oatcakes before going to the theatre nearby. Everyone looked happy because the atmosphere is so magnificently relaxed. Just like the staff who work there. The secret's out.

Great Queen Street
32 Great Queen Street, WC2B 5AA