Dans Le Noir? Clerkenwell Green, London

"Any allergies?" asks the woman taking our order at Dans Le Noir. "Only pretension ..." my wife mutters under her breath. Oh dear. I get the feeling that she may not be coming to this experience in quite the right spirit. I think they're a bit more open to philosophical top-spin in Paris, where Edouard de Broglie's first entirely lightless restaurant has been successful enough to encourage an extension of the franchise to London. The idea is simple. You eat in a pitch-black room, having been guided to your table and served by blind and partially sighted waiters. The justifying rubric is less straightforward - with much talk about perceptual awakening and a "transfer of trust" between client and serving staff. And this Gallic accent on the conceptual rather than the edible seems to have put my companion into a grumpy mood.

The allergy question came about because, having handed over potential sources of illumination such as cigarette lighters and mobile phones, we have opted for the "Surprise" menu - two courses for £29 and three courses for £37. Obviously taking you out of your comfort zone is part of the point here, but they understandably draw the line at clients falling to the floor in anaphylactic shock. Then, after being introduced to Brian, our server, we are led into the dining room through two sets of black-out curtains, like a pair of gas-blinded Tommies being marched to a dressing-station.

As Brian seats my wife there is a clatter of falling silverware and a school-dinner whoop from those already eating, none of whom seems to be in particularly philosophical mood. Then it is my term to fumble for the table and to have my hands guided by Brian to the cutlery and the unbreakable glasses. We are not to get up and wander around, he tells us, and if we need to go to the loo we should call for him. We sit for a while and wait for our eyes to adjust - but there is nothing to adjust to. After a while your retinas start to ghost and flare through sheer underemployment. Immediately to my right a woman with a laugh like a badly oiled jackhammer is breaking the darkness into jagged chunks and hurling them at our heads.

The first surprise of the surprise menu is that our starters are glowing faintly - a dim glimmer of phosphorescence in the blackness. This is unnerving enough for me to draw it to Brian's attention, but he can't see it of course. Anyway, it eventually dawns on us that this isn't a Blumenthal style jeu d'esprit but an unanticipated light show by bioluminescent bacteria. I've never eaten anything that glows before but it doesn't smell conspicuously off so I take the risk. It turns out to be some kind of salmon sashimi and it may well be the most unpleasant thing I've ever paid for and put in my mouth. The theory is that removal of sight intensifies the sense of taste - but as I stab around the plate for slimy strands of fish coated in an oily flavourless dressing, a heightened sense of taste is the last thing I want. Dental anaesthetic would be more to the point.

Mercifully the main courses are better, though duller than the word " surprise" leads you to expect. We get slabs of roast beef with melted leeks, sweet potato crisps and fondant potatoes - which, sight-unseen, taste like failed roasties. The beef does have a good flavour, and judging from its tenderness and taste, is cooked quite pink - but since you haven't a clue what's on your fork when you lift it up there's no pleasurable anticipation to round out the taste, only a kind of vague wariness. The whole thing feels more like completing a puzzle than satisfying the senses.

Dessert is the one thing that startles the tongue. "Strawberries with furniture polish ice-cream" is my stab in the dark - but we're later told that it's strawberry and raspberry marinated in Campari, served with coconut biscuits and violet ice cream - which accounts for the not entirely unpleasant flavour of Pledge. We didn't taste the Campari and neither of us got raspberries or a coconut biscuit, but I suppose it's possible that they were there all along and we simply couldn't find them. They can tell you anything, frankly. As we exit we conclude that an office party here could be the stuff of legend and that it might make an entertaining segment for Big Brother, if ratings were flagging. But if you're serious about food go somewhere where they leave the lights on. E

Dans Le Noir? 30-31 Clerkenwell Green, London EC1 (020-7253 1100)

Food
Ambience
(depending on your point of view)
Service (very tactile)
About £100 for two, with wine and service

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