Tompkins is a haven for mad hatters and bankers

** for food
*** for ambience

Tompkins sends out enough mixed messages to sink a flotilla. The name suggests a quaint Fifties butcher but the décor is more Mad Hatter’s Tea Party: big, eclectic and scarlet. And the menu is posh brunch, for the moneyed folk who live in the millionaires’ monstrosity above, Pan Peninsula.

That at least was presumably the business plan. But today’s clientele is sadly less rarefied: a middle-aged couple slowly turning pink from too much sun and rosé, and a gaggle of bankers downing chips as they ogle the eastern European waitress through increasingly lager-soaked goggles.

The service is charming even if the food is average and expensive. Nothing is fault-free. Everything just misses.

Our shared starter of crab cakes was woefully under-seasoned. My steak was overcooked but my companion’s spaghetti was salt-free and the poorer for it. The green beans were overly greasy and the tomato salad floury.

Only the sparkling water and my Virgin Mary are triumphs — but even a trained labrador could open two screw-top bottles and add pepper and Tabasco to tomato juice. Nonetheless, the bill comes to an eye-popping £70.

Still, Tompkins is a welcome addition to a cultural wasteland. The location is surprisingly attractive: a Manhattan-esque backdrop rears up behind us and the gentle slap of the South Quay marina is close enough to paddle in.

This is the very definition of a second-rate first-rater. And I mean that fondly. Tompkins is as comfy as an old pair of slippers. The food isn’t terrible, it’s just not brilliant. There are some nice touches: glass doors that open onto the terrace, the retro cones of delicious chips. As a haven from the office, it’s perhaps the perfect spot. Especially if you bring your own sandwiches.

Tompkins
4 Pan Peninsula Square, South Quay, E14 9HA