Twinkly little stars

I have moaned before about our star system for reviews. It's so inexact. What we try to do is measure like against like: cheap eats against cheap eats, posho wallet batterer against its peers. Still, it can look odd when a burger joint gets the same stars as a temple of haute cuisine.

Usually the system works well enough. Until now. Kilo Kitchen Bar defies a nice, neat rating. Convention dictates that I do it - hence the wimp-out three stars at the top of the page - but that doesn't get close to telling the real story.

Some of what we experienced at this revamp of Noble Rot (poncey expense-account joint much frequented by horsey rich girls, owned by Soren Jessen, bachelor-about-town and ex of Tara PT's) was truly terrific. Some of it was as rough as old badgers. The quality veered about as wildly as Johnny Vegas in a stout factory.

But first I must tell you about Lionel, the maitre d'. We loved Lionel so much we almost forgave some of the dodgy dishes. This charmer, with an accent so strangulatedly Fraaanch he makes Jean-Christophe Novelli sound like John Betjeman, bent over backwards to ensure we, and everybody else, had a good time.

The place got busier and busier, rammed with a demanding clientele so old-school yuppie it felt like 1990s New York: not for a second did Lionel's steadfast good humour falter.

It's fair to say he is a little eccentric. 'I aaarm freum Manshestair,' he fibbed heroically, before ticking off the date for ordering so much: 'Hev you not had any lunsh?' But that just added to his appeal.

When my starter arrived, fresh pasta with foie gras, cream and black truffles (the menu is heavy on old-fashioned, luxury bistro, French onion soup and veal kidney type heaviness), Lionel theatrically produced a whole black truffle and shaved it generously on top.

The truffle was glorious, the pasta a waste of space - noodles bathed in vaguely mushroomy catering-pack cream. So five stars for Lionel, five stars for the truffle, one star for the pasta.

The date's lobster starter from the 'buy the kilo' (sic) section of the menu, which also features mussels, langoustines and clams, brought a whole beast of melting succulence, glazed with garlic butter, already cracked and teased out of its shell for ease of eating.

We hadn't expected this and panicked at the thought of how much we'd have to fork out. In the event, it cost a not unreasonable £22 (Lionel: 'Not too exspenseeve, hunh?'). Five stars for the lobster.