Only a Lane away

You've got to love the heroism - or lunacy - of attempting French cuisine coupled with 'food drawing inspiration from the organic farmers of the Californian Central Coast' in an old East End badlands boozer.

Perhaps the chef/owner of Rosemary Lane, Christina Anghelescu is a Gemini: we're talking split personality. The old pub is, well, old pubbish - down to the scarred dartboard and miasma of elderly beer - but they've installed posh banquettes and grown-up linen and silverware.

The food almost, but not quite, reaches its aspirations. Soft shell crab 'club' - 'our bestseller' confided our rather too Americanly-friendly waiter - didn't feature any bread, rather a stack of excellent crustacean, some good organic tomatoes and a tame yellow pepper foam dotted with 'caviar', more like tiny red pearls of flying fish roe.

You can see the ambition - we even got freebie nibbles and a stunning, if slightly too sweet, blackcurrant and star anise sorbet between courses. Silky foie gras came with roasted figs, a slick of Banyuls, brioche and orange tomato jam.

Main courses were equally elaborate: John Dory was flummoxed by too many quarrelling extras - lemons, cape gooseberry, shallot, celeriac; while a lovely rocket mousse was too subtle for spiced braised pork belly. Perhaps reining in the loftiness might result in more coherent dishes - and a menu less anomalous to its surroundings.