Star of the show

'We'll sit there,' I said, pointing a blue finger at an inviting fireside table. For a moment I had that feeling, enhanced by cold and hunger, of perfect table, perfect place. Then the waiter said, 'I'm really sorry, but I wouldn't sit there, that table next door are rather noisy.'

We took his advice and sat three tables away. Within five minutes we were moving hastily from the screeching din. Some women should not be allowed alcohol, because their voices become a ghastly squawk under its influence.

Three such women were sat at this table. The section of the North Star reserved for dining was deserted - all other diners were, like us, eating in the less cosy bar section.

The North Star has normal gastro decor. Floor: boards. Walls: art, combination of white and deep red. Furniture: salvage, but of a high standard - comfortable retro chairs, a reasonably inspiring and eclectic collection of contemporary photography, some well-placed twinkly lights to warm the room, the odd piece of interesting furniture and oversized ferns. The room is subtly divided up into a dining area, a bar area and a games area - this made me realise how many pubs feel like big gaping spaces and all the more cold for it.

The wine list is short and satisfactory, if not exciting. They do not have cask-conditioned ales, as yet; Hoegaarden and San Miguel, among others, add to the on-tap Stella norm.

White onion risotto had the right bite and an elegant flavour and fragrance. Did it need the deluge of thick shavings of parmesan? The goats' cheese salad and roast beetroot with walnut dressing would have been enjoyable had it not been so vinegary sweet.

Our waiter was charming and quite amusing. He recommended the pork belly, which was a well-composed plate of mustardy mash, caramelised onions and jammy, meaty, again slightly vinegary, gravy. Simple and classic, it was let down by the meat which was tender but not as melting and full of fat-kissed flavour as you'd expect. And no crackling. Boo hoo.

Amy said her smoked haddock fillet with leek sauce looked minimalist white, then she speared the deep orangey yolk of the perfectly poached egg on top. Again a simple dish - Every flavour works together,' she said. The homemade chips were hand-cut and golden,.

It was nearly midnight when we left; there was no ugly ding-a-ling at last orders. The other customers seemed mellow, youngish and stylish. The screechers weren't regulars, I am pleased to report.

The North Star
188-190 New North Road, N1 7BJ