It was the perfect way for six friends to have a meal - in the

It was the perfect way for six friends to have a meal - in the end we didn't want to leave. I'm very sociable, and that's why I like a good Chinese meal. WHEN I GO out to eat I'm not there for show, I'm there to enjoy myself. I do not share the universal admiration for French cooking, and I loathe eating spaghetti in public I'm afraid I cut it up, and I don't care I also like to mop up juices with a bit of bread. My own policy suggestion for those who want to explore County Hall and enjoy the river view at a fraction of the price is to walk straight past the restaurant to the end of the corridor, and take afternoon tea in the Library Lounge..

The Wonton with Lemon Curd and Papaya sat on a suspiciously neon red sauce By coffee we were the last diners left. In the melancholy light of mid-afternoon we started feeling sentimental about the GLC, a sign that it was time to go home. But those moments passed.Desserts were a fiver each, which was just about OK for a thin slice of chocolate tart served with bourbon ice-cream. For a few moments, as we shared meat and wine, County Hall seemed more than an ordinary room with ideas above its station. Splendid, honest meat.The wine list was divided into helpful categories like "fuller-bodied and sometimes spicy" for those of us who tend to point and hope.

Let's not talk about the price of our bottle of red, Rosemount GSM McLaren Vale 1995, because by the time the last drop of its warm, wintery magic had run down our throats we were past guilt or worry. On top was a horseradish remoulade, with only the slightest hint of horseradish in the mayonnaise binding some shredded celeriac. I had asked for the beef to be medium rare and that's exactly what it was, with a moist pink centre. "Oriental," was his verdict, unsurprisingly.At first sight there seemed hardly anything to my fillet of beef, carefully arranged in the middle of a plate without visible accompaniment. Hidden underneath the meat was a splendidly stodgy little flan filled with peas and potatoes. The generous chef threw in a single piece of ravioli stuffed with crab and ginger and a couple of trendy rustic rolls.

My veloute had a refreshing vanilla aroma and a light, frothy taste, but serv-ing it in a mug with a handle just invited comparison with Cup-a-Soup.Baulking at pounds 19 for a piece of Dover sole, my friend ordered the less expensive Confit of Duck Leg served with cardamom rice, black beans and spring onions. This is the same safe food you can find in business restaurants all over Britain. The overheads must be high, because the mark-up is huge: pounds 7.50 for a tiny square of rabbit with prunes and hazelnuts in jelly was so exorbitant as to make the taste irrelevant. Not that the rabbit had much.The last refuge of the over-charging scoundrel is the fancy French name. If you want to charge too much for a small portion of soup made from sweetcorn, egg yolks, butter and cream, then call it "Veloute of Corn" and wait for some sucker who is trying to impress his companion. It also promised innovation, which was far from the truth, unless you consider onion tart, Caesar salad or roast lamb to be revolutionary. They certainly had more personality than their workplace, which resembled a boardroom rearranged for a wedding.The menu offered premature thanks to the head chef David Ali, who used to cook in the Canteen at Chelsea Harbour, and the restaurant's adviser Richard Corrigan, for their "flair and passion".

The waiters were eager and charming (out of gratitude, I suppose, since the place was half empty) and looked the part in powder- blue shirts and white aprons. The rest of us had to crane our necks and stare past the suits to watch sightseeing boats cruising on the listless grey water. It might have been better to sit in the second room, which curved along the balcony.All the little details had been copied from the Modern Guide To Serving Posh Nosh: maitre d' in black, wooden floor, white china and linen, plain glass and an orchid on every table. There can't be much passing trade, though: my lunch date spent half an hour trying to find the entrance, which gave me plenty of time to look around.The main room was large and light, thanks to spotlights in the white plaster ceiling that made the pale oak walls shine, but there was a large abstract painting where a picture window should have been.