Haute-ish cuisine

We'd expected another Islington gastropub. Without the benefit of the usual flurry of press releases, we'd made up our minds about Morgan M from a couple of desultory drive-bys. Converted pub. Corner of not particularly gorgeous bit of Liverpool Road. Looks like a shoestring job. All the signs seemed to indicate a load of same old same old.

So it was a surprise to find a slightly formal little operation, its haute-ish menu bristling with luxury Frenchness. Not only as far as the ingredients were concerned, but also in the range of menu options: an a la carte number, a truly appealing vegetarian job and a top of the range five-course degustation.

It turns out this is the baby of Morgan Meunier, the celebrated long-time stalwart of The Admiralty and a man as enthusiastic about the creation of genuinely appealing vegetarian dishes as he is for robust, terroir flavours. This little room is a complete departure from the opulence of The Admiralty - simple, pared-down, but with some high-gloss touches such as the beautiful, specially-designed cutlery.

The food was fantastic. We went for the degustation, which at £30 for five courses plus amuse and petit fours represents serious value for this level of cooking. Even the now mandatory pre-starter cocktail was a belter: a thrilling mix of tangy spume studded with crunchy candied lemon verbena, tiny cubes of quince apple and Plymouth Gin jelly.

The word gazpacho did little to describe our beyond-soup starter: a croute, some garlicky aubergine, a pool of fabulously intense liquid where strident flavours of pepper and tomato had been tamed into a mellifluous mouthful, topped with a gloriously silky tomato and olive oil sorbet and a fried basil leaf. Really, really good. As were snail ravioli with artichokes: wrinkled pasta parcels containing a musky, earthy filling breathing a scent of aniseed. This was a downright sexy dish.

Stunning, too, was a sea bass, perfectly seared into smoky moistness. Another raviolo came stuffed with lobster. There was tomato concasse, a frothy slick of buttery, winey sauce and an almost ludicrously velvety celeriac purèe. The richness, intricacy and sheer showmanship of this dish may have prejudiced me against my duck with gnocchi. It was like having to snog Jennifer Ellison after a session with Jennifer Lopez. Excellent Welsh lamb suffered from the same upstaging.

Puddings were simply orgasmic. A version of that chocolate pud with liquid centre came with a subtle, milk ice and had my deprived-by-Atkins date moaning with pleasure. After penetrating my trembling apricot soufflÈ with a spoon, the waiter poured in sharp, sticky apricot sauce. Ginger ice cream just added to the seduction. After this, petit fours were an irrelevance.

But there was the odd disappointment: I misguidedly had foie gras instead of the snails, its texture - perhaps due to the fact that it was 'cooked' by marinating in fine spirits rather than conventionally - was curiously fudgey and its Sauternes jelly tasted a little of raw alcohol; and my duck was too raw.

There were also a few eccentricities: smokers are banished to languish outside like corporate clerks; and it only opens from Wednesday to Sunday. (Sunday lunches are, apparently, going to be particularly childfriendly, with bijoux portions of the sophisticated dishes to be offered to sophisticated Islington sprogs.)

But, for all this - plus water, a bottle of Chablis and service - we paid a ton. Bargain. I'd go back like a shot.

Morgan M
489 Liverpool Road, N7 8NS