Top hats and Tales

This pub in the heart of Knightsbridge may avoid popular gastropub generics in its menu and decor, but it's been here for 15 years - long predating the gastropub boom.

Dummy bottles of Krug and Veuve line up above the varnished pine bar and the clientele look appropriately moneyed, white, and upper middle class.

The pub doesn't open at weekends because everyone's huntin', shootin' and fishin'.

There are old golfing cartoons, repro Art Deco posters, black-and-white stuff of women in hats - all in all, a jolly mix of not ironic art.

There's a strong, refined and fairly priced selection of people pleasers on the wine list, including Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc 2004 at £35, and Bombardier and Marsden's Pedigree on the pump.

I asked to move from a button-like table for two to a bigger, empty table for four.

The waitress said OK, but pretty rudely. Another was curt when I moved a dazzling table lamp to the floor for more ambient lighting.

I: annoying punter. They: rude. Score: one all. The atmosphere is warm though, and service is efficient.

Amy said her thick carrot, coconut and coriander soup appealed to her childlike palate - it was sweet and coconutty, a bit like a Body Shop shampoo. She loved the onion bhajee on the side. The thick hunks of beef in the Thai salad were not as tenderly pink or as slenderly sliced as you might expect, but the light, sweet dressing with shredded vegetables was fresh.

The chef is taking the Frank Sinatra way with the menu, adding a lot of elements to modern British dishes - a bit of Med, a bit of Asian and bit of French where he fancies. I can see where he is coming from, but a lot of dishes felt muddly in the mouth. Amy's baked ham (good), with piccalilli mash (sour and wrong), came with a fricassee of black pudding, peas, slow-roast tomatoes and a (perfectly) poached egg.

The chips were charmingly brown, soft and sweet. The stocky concentration in the broth of the monkfish, mussel and crayfish nage was lost somewhat due to its proximity in the bowl to baby leeks, tomatoes, a stodgy, earthy-tasting home-made mushroom ravioli and tarragon oil.

Despite this I like the cut of the Swag's cloth. They're going their own way, and keeping regulars happy. Not a banger or a fishcake in sight.

Swag & Tales
10-11 Fairholt Street, SW7