Top of the tree

It was 10pm by the time Princess Shaz, Dave Wealthy and I had sat down to eat at the Treehouse. The table had been pushed from 8pm, to 9pm and then, in a frantic garbled phone call from the car, until 10pm, when the kitchen officially closed. 'Please, please, please,' I said, and the lady at the end of the phone calmly accommodated my tardiness - even better, we weren't rushed.

With about 10 starters and 15 mains to choose from, there was much dithering. Wealthy and I chose from the special menu - for him 'fish and chips', the inverted commas meant the dish had been shrunk to a pile of homemade matchstick chips ('Great,' he said), two little battered goujons of 'moist but ordinary' cod, and a giant spoonful of 'not zingy enough' tartar sauce.

It was all presented smartly on a square plate with balsamic and chive garnish. I had cauliflower soup, which was was like porridge - thick, lumpy and tasting more of butter and salt than anything else. It was the sort of soup, said Princess Shaz, you'd give to someone in rehab.

The Princess's duck took an age to arrive. 'I'm sorry,' said the waitress, 'completely my fault, I got your order wrong.' We all immediately fell in love with her and her honesty. When it did arrive, Princess said it was just as she liked it - somewhere around a carpaccio. It came with truffle mash that tasted salty and cheesy but not so truffly. The gravy was balanced, deep and meaty, the Savoy cabbage was al dente.

Wealthy had a very rich and busy plate of a piece of sea bass, served on a bed of fresh pasta with fresh crab and a chilli cream sauce. The balance of flavours was not quite right, the crab's medicinal qualities coming through with the one-dimensional chilli. Though at only £13 for a dish of such expensive ingredients, this is merely a quibble. I had pigeon and it was a bit stiff, cold and dry, but the musky flavour was good.

There is only Guinness and Stella on tap and an unexceptional range of bottled lagers. We drank a Pouilly Fume from the short wine list, which was a bit sweet and one-dimensional for its price tag of £27.

Puds came from the comfort school of sweetness: banoffee pie, brownies, crumbly, sticky toffee things, bread and butter pudding.

Locals tell me the menu is hit-and-miss but the steaks are always good. However, the prices are extremely fair, so I'd give this place a break. There's a calm and cosy atmosphere, too, with the walls painted deep shades of blackcurrant and tomato.

Wealthy is a stickler for service and even he thought the staff were fantastic. By the time we left, it was way past 11pm and they still weren't shooing us out of the door.

The Treehouse
73 White Hart Lane, SW13