Scrumptious fish at Scott's

I first noticed something had changed at Scott's about nine months ago. One of my best friends lives almost directly beneath this famous Mayfair institution and the two of us were in the habit of popping in from time to time on our way to a party. She'd have a glass of wine and a fag while I wolfed down a fish pie.

It was never spectacular, but it was good, solid English fare. I liked the fact that the restaurant was nearly always empty, meaning we could be in and out in less than 30 minutes. The fact that it was so obviously down on its uppers gave it a certain pathos. It was a symbol of Britain's fading aristocracy.

This time, though, something was different. It looked a bit plusher, as though it had been given a good scrub. It wasn't full - the huge, split-level dining room seats twice as many people as The Ivy - but it was reasonably crowded and, miracle of miracles, it actually had a bit of atmosphere. The most striking difference, though, was the fish pie. It had improved by a factor of about ten. Was it my imagination, or was it actually better than the fish pie at Sheekey's which up until that point was the best fish pie I'd ever tasted? What on earth was going on?

The answer, I discovered, is that the Chez Gerard Group, which had owned Scott's since 1997, had sold it to the Home House Company and under the expert tutelage of Brian Clivaz it had been transformed into a fairly successful neighbourhood haunt. His most important contribution by far was to bring in Michael McEnearney, formerly the executive chef at Pharmacy, to ginger up the menu. In its 152-year history I don't believe Scott's has ever served up a better fish pie than it does at present.

Don't misunderstand me. In the Twenties, Scott's used to be a home away from home for London's bright young things and it's got a long way to go before it's restored to its former glory. It may have been Ian Fleming's favourite restaurant, but I can't see James Bond bringing Miss Moneypenny here for a romantic dinner & deux. At the moment, it's no more fashionable than Mayfair itself and the majority of the customers are third- or fourth-generation local residents. This was according to Richard Doolan, the restaurant manager. I asked him how he could tell they were third- or fourth-generation residents - were they more smartly dressed or better spoken than the first- or second-generation residents? 'It's the first thing they tell you,' he laughed.

Rather charmingly, Scott's is still thought of as among London's smartest restaurants by the nonagenarians who come in. Sir John Mills, for instance, recently celebrated his 95th birthday there. The festivities were interrupted when Ronnie Corbett's wife fell over as she was getting out of a taxi and an ambulance had to be called.

After she'd taken the first gulp of restorative oxygen, she withdrew the mouthpiece from her face, looked up at the two paramedics and said, 'Tell me, gentlemen. Is it a boy or a girl?'

When I went back there last week I rather foolishly opted for Dover sole. It was good - very good, in fact - but not in the same bracket as the fish pie. Of course, now that Scott's is quite popular again, you have to wait a good deal longer than ten minutes before the pie's put in front of you. But, believe me, it's worth the wait.

Scotts
20 Mount Street, W1Y 6HE