Plenty of liquids in the well

Over dinner recently a man of means and arrogance turned on me and lambasted critics. He related the story of a well-known critic who said he'd given a venerated Parisian restaurant a bad review only to spite an ex-father-in-law who loved it. I was shocked, but then I have never had an ex-father-in-law.

Unlike my guests at The Well, Divorcee No.1 (male) and Divorcee No.2 (female). Comparing our views of the world, I started to see how marital disappointment could seriously affect your appetite.

The Well is a tidy example of East London gastro style: polished brick walls, salvaged wooden tables worn soft with time, picture windows looking over the red lights of what D1 said looked like a fancy brothel, but is actually an Indian wine bar. 'They probably did that in a knowing, ironic way,' said D1.

'I don't think they did,' I said, 'they just don't have great taste.' 'Rubbish, nothing is done by accident here anymore, there are so many bloody designers everywhere. Everything in this city is contrived.' There was an awkward silence.

'They've certainly thought everything out,' said D2, cheerily, as a tray of three mustards, mayonnaise and ketchup arrived with her ribeye steak. 'Good attention to detail.' There is much on offer here: smoothies, a few cocktails, fresh juices, a large selection of tapped continental lagers, stout and wheat beers and a wine list that ranges from £14 to nearly £70. Downstairs there is Aquarium, a fashionably gloomy style bar lit by fish tanks. There's plenty to amuse a pub goer at The Well.

However, it was not an amusing dinner, listening to the Ds punctuate the grouching with critical judgments. Over starters D1: 'Whine whine - these tiddly whitebait taste very fishy, that's good, the aioli is not garlicky enough - impossible situation, intractable woman.' I forced D2 to take a starter of courgette and smoked garlic soup with a poached quail's egg. 'I like it, but it's a bit under-seasoned and the garlic is subtle to the point of invisible, you need more than one poached quail's egg.' A chilled pea soup, deliciously pea-sweet and green came with a pan-fried ham hock ravioli bobbing in it.

I noticed our neighbours' chips and quickly ordered some. Misshapen, soft with golden crunchy bits, they were not textbook, but they were truly alpha fried potatoes. The bread was up there too: brown, with a delicious, slightly burnt crust and dotted with oatmeal.

The Well has a fine reputation - its owners Tom and Ed Martin are also behind the White Swan Pub And Dining Room on Fetter Lane which is, for many, on a near par with the sainted Anchor And Hope.

The food's good at The Well - D2's steak had fine texture and flavour, D1's merguez sausages were an enjoyably mild butcher's rendition of the original - but it's not brilliant. The herb mash had a slightly cloying texture. My main course was a bit of a conceptual stinker. Tender pork stewed with olives - stones in - a surprise, and cooked under a rosti crust, which ended up like hard, crumbly cornflakes. It was super-oily too.

Puddings were delicate and pretty. Service efficient and friendly. The Well is not as good as The Peasant up the road, but it pays attention to small details. A little work on the larger elements and all will be tickety-boo.