Smugness reigns at Ghillies

This review was first published in July 2001

There's something ineffably smug and self-satisfied about Ghillies. It has a stunning location - right on the river, looking over a particularly leafy and non-urban vista (in fact, it's the notoriously élitist Hurlingham Club). It's even got its own little jetty ('pontoon terrace') on the river. And yes, it's a striking building, almost Miami-ish in its ocean-liner dimensions.

Our rather self-important host - wielding his clipboard and mobile - seemed to take no little pleasure in delivering a fully booked message to callers and dismissing pleas for a jetty table with an airy gesture towards his waiting list. The customers, many of whom looked as though they were inhabitants of the adjoining new development of 'luxury riverside living' apartments, lapped it all up.

Service is sweetly amateurish and food is pompously pedestrian. Mussel and gruyère tartlet with red pepper was leathery and gritty; sesame-crusted seared tuna with green mustard tasted of the fridge. Chip shop favourites of scampi and haddock in batter with home-made chips were better, although the dusting of dried dill over the chips was unnecessary.

Treacle tart was an odd solecism: pastry containing what seemed like almost liquid black treacle. But the banoffee pie was excellent. We paid £68 for two with house wine. Ghillies has the capacity to be a sublime summer destination, just so long as it gets over itself.