Smollensky's has what it steaks

Smollensky's has been a name in the capital for some time. Its expansion into a small chain has been slow: there are only a couple of branches and one has even been lost along the way.

They're overlooked by the foodie contingent other than as a child-friendly weekend venue (their Sunday lunches come complete with games and entertainers). Yes, guilty. But when I've braved the Strand branch as a kind of distress purchase for kids, I've always been pleasantly surprised at the quality of the food.

So now there's a new Smollensky's in the atmospheric surroundings of Wapping High Street. If you ignored the large logo, you could imagine yourself in any recently opened, darkwooded, leather-seated, fashionable cocktail and food emporium.

And this has even got some pretty impressive tricks up its sleeve, most importantly a lengthy wall of glass giving out on to the river and affording some not-too-shabby views of Tower Bridge. There's a large terrace, too, which promises to be a stonking spot for chilling and boat-watching come summer - but it currently comes across as more car park than cafè society. Altogether, it's a smart enough spot for a power lunch.

The menu, in its faux-naive plastic diner cover, combines modern-ish choices - like pecan-crusted goat's cheese on salad or 'West Coast' style grilled tuna Nićoise - with totally unreconstructed comfort foods - all-American meatloaf, a textbook shrimp cocktail. But when a joint proudly announces 'simply the best steaks in town', its intent is pretty clear.

Today, when the steakhouse - Smiths , Notting Grill , Sophie's Steakhouse - has never been more popular, it's easy to forget that there's always been a damn fine hunka cow to be had at Smollensky's. All the buzz qualifications are there: organic - check; prime stock Angus - check; hung for bloody ages - check. (In fact, Sophie Mogford, of Sophie's Steakhouse, cut her restauranting teeth working in the Strand branch.)

Thus, the fact that our starters - spicy duck burrito and a sweet chilli, prawn and vegetable spring roll - didn't set the earth on fire wasn't altogether surprising. You get the impression they're merely fluffers for the muscular stars of the show.

The burrito was a rather pointless reworking of the classic Chinese crispy aromatic duck with pancakes: not unpleasant but not a patch on the real thing. The spring roll was big, oily and unsophisticated, enjoyable in the way that a deep-fried Mars Bar is.

Now for the steaks. I don't know about being the best in town (which town? Kirkcaldy?) but they weren't far from fabulous. My fillet ('the decadent choice' - so I had to) had the lot: crust, juice, melting pinkness, depth of flavour, a dense, buttery BÈarnaise; rump with pepper sauce was a more butch affair, rewarding more toothwork with a blast of pure beefiness. It was a trifle swamped by its rich, creamy sauce and really, really didn't need its slippery fried onions.

Homemade coleslaw was good; sadly, chips and onion rings tasted as though they'd come from a giant McCain catering pack.