It's in the stars

When people find out what I do, they always ask one thing: how do you allocate stars? (Well, two things actually. The other is 'what's your favourite restaurant?', but that just brings me out in hives.)

I've tried to explain in the past but the message keeps getting muddled. Having only five stars to play with means we're not operating the world's most sophisticated system - to do ratings clinically and accurately, you'd need a spreadsheet at the top of the page. But here goes again.

Four stars awarded to a rather excellent little Ethiopian joint do not mean that it's far better than the haute cuisine number only scoring a measly two.

It means it's a brilliant example of a cheap, local, exotic restaurant and that the other gaff just didn't cut it among the big boys. Restaurants are restaurants, sure, but frequently we're talking apples and oranges.

So today's four stars for Odette's do not translate into 'a better restaurant than Joel Robuchon' or 'a worse restaurant than Locanda Locatelli'. In this instance, they mean 'a truly excellent neighbourhood restaurant compared with other neighbourhood restaurants'. I hope that clears things up a little.

We are, of course, dealing with something of a rarefied neighbourhood. And this is no mom and pop joint - it's brought to us by the redoubtable Vince Power (of Mean Fiddler and The Pigalle Club fame) with star designer Shaun Clarkson on board.

Chef talent is provided by Bryn Williams, who recently won the chance to dish up the fish course to Her Royal Maj on BBC2's Great British Menu. But still, the night we visited, it came across most emphatically as a local place for local people - albeit Sienna-alikes popping in for mojitos and foie gras or silver-haired and arty intellectuals sniffing at the disappointing wine list.

I love the new look: sort of expensive rent-boy boudoir. Busy, floral wallpaper creeps over walls, sludgy colours are punctuated by shades of acid green and chartreuse. There's a most peculiar carpet. Some of the locals were disconcerted by this typically ballsy Clarkson refit; over and over we heard the plaintive cry of 'where are the mirrors?'.

It was renowned in the past for being romantic; it still is. And while Hill-ites might mourn the mirrors, they can only celebrate the demise of Odette's previous menu of smug incompetence. Williams is a first-rate cook with a real flair for gutsy, memorable dishes.

Occasionally he goes a bit off-message - a starter of giant quantities of seared tuna really didn't need its crusting of cloves; it gave a medicinal, mouthwashy taint to a lovely piece of fish; otherwise, we had a terrific meal.