Fay Maschler reviews Quo Vadis

Peppino Leoni from Lake Maggiore, who founded Quo Vadis in 1926 - reasonably enough, it was then called Leoni's Quo Vadis - wrote an autobiography called I Shall Die on the Carpet. When my agent suggests, as sometimes she does, that I write a book about restaurants, I shake my head from side to side, mournfully thinking that I could never come up with a better title than that. Peppino was interned on the Isle of Man during the Second World War. That is another hard act to follow.

I wonder if Jeremy Lee, the new head chef at Quo Vadis, knows this story about the autobiography. He would hoot. Hooting, arm waving, sharp intakes of breath, winking and twinkling come easily to this stalwart of the school of Sally Clarke, Alastair Little, Simon Hopkinson, Rowley Leigh, Shaun Hill and others who dragged British cooking away from the mad flambés and sauce-covered mysteries of restauration of old into something close to noble. "Jeremy is a force of nature," says one dining companion.

He has arrived from the Blueprint Café at Butlers Wharf after 16 years of cooking there, explaining that unusual longevity as connected to a love of the river but, I think, maybe also loyalty to Terence Conran who opened it. It is certainly high time that central London was treated to his culinary perspicacity, wit and vigour, and in brothers Sam and Eddie Hart, born restaurateurs, or anyway born of restaurateurs, he has found the ideal partners.

Closure over Christmas at Quo Vadis has revealed a newly streamlined interior with nothing on the walls to distract you from observing the beautiful stained glass windows (apparently installed during Marco Pierre White's reign) reflected in panels of distressed mirrors on the opposite side of the room across a sea of tables and caramel banquettes. Currently the entrance hall is piled high with citrus fruit, including Seville oranges, a timely reminder to get on with your marmalade making - or go back the next day for breakfast.

The menu changes daily and, like when you stay in a resort hotel - or, God forbid, go on a cruise - it comes with a weather report. January 11 was Bright, 8°C. The menu graphics, unusual in the number of categories delineated and enhanced by John Broadly illustrations, prettily conveys malleability and an understanding of the vagaries of appetite. The customer might just want a couple of "Bites" and "Today's Pie" or maybe would like to start with "The Oysters" and move on to a rack of lamb from "The Grill". The good value fixed price menu described as "Theatre Set" applies at all times - no clock-watching involved.

Smoked eel and horseradish sandwich fittingly has a box of its own. It is, I can assure you, an ace creation and one perhaps to try while composing the rest of a meal. We used a rich, smooth chicken and duck liver paté with cornichons and a little pot of bloater paste sealed under clarified butter, plus the notable sourdough bread for this purpose. The cocktail of the day made from Campari, orange and pomegranate - a great combination - also lent a hand.

I am surprised that beetroots are on sale to the public, so enthusiastic are chefs about this elemental vegetable. Ruby red and golden, they were partnered here with eggs a bit less than hard-boiled, watercress and vinaigrette; delicious. Sea kale, served with butter sauce, what the French call beurre blanc, makes fewer appearances on menus so it was all the more welcome for that, although its somewhat fugitive personality might take time to grow on you.

Oysters, rocks and natives served for £2 and £3 respectively, are presented with due ceremony.

That day's pie was beef served in deeply savoury gravy, in which I thought I could detect that excellent overlooked ingredient, mushroom ketchup.

The crust was thin and waxy. Teal, the perfect bird for portion control, was offered at £12.50 for one, £22 for a brace. Cooked to just the right point of pinkness, bolstered with prune and bacon, just the one was champion for calorie-conscious January. A side salad of orange and fennel was a judicious accompaniment.

From the Theatre Set a main course of marinated chicken had a very Jeremy garnish of mint, courgette and onions muddled together, the ribbons of courgette having been grilled. The piece of chicken was huge, the skin and juices burnished with the marinade. With herring and potato salad as first course, almond cake with St Clement's curd and Jersey cream for dessert, this would be a Bunterish spread for £20.