Galvin at Windows London Hilton, London W1

Given that the view from Galvin at Windows is one of its biggest selling points, you'd think they might take better care of it. The first thing we can see from our table is a set of grubby fingermarks on the plate glass and the second is a stretch of plastic box-hedging that effectively blocks off the bottom edge of that premium vista. Does the eye want to rest on plastic box-hedging? The eye does not. But let's not be too curmudgeonly - because the third thing you see is a bird's eye view of the Queen's back garden - a numbingly extensive chunk of prime development land with its own private Serpentine. Deborah and I momentarily fantasise about spotting a regal figure crossing the polo field lawn, stooping to clear up after the corgis. Then it dawns on us that Her Majesty would be accompanied by the junior footman of the pooper scooper. And then we decide we'd better change the subject altogether because the menus have arrived.

The lift that takes you up to the 28th floor of the Mayfair Hilton should have a preservation order slapped on it as a perfect example of late-Sixties tat. From its textured gold walls to the backlit pictures of the hotel amenities it is a little bit of Las Vegas on Park Lane, but fortunately the floating casino theme doesn't continue into Keith Hobbs' redesign of the restaurant - a cool affair of dark wood, olive green leather and earth-toned carpet. Barring a sculptural twist of polished bronze on the ceiling (apparently intended to "draw the eye to the view"; did they really think people wouldn't notice without it?) there's nothing overfussy about the room - and the same is true of Chris Galvin's menu. The location might be big on vertical elevation but the food is pointedly horizontal - classic French cooking with very little in the way of attention-seeking flourishes. In a rather literal sense, there's no froth.

They don't even bother with an amuse-bouche - which, when your main courses come in at £25 to £28 might strike you as taking the virtues of simplicity a little too far. However ludicrous the pretence that you're getting a pleasure thrown in for free, there's something about the ritual of generosity that eases the sting of the big bill. Here it's down to the food you've ordered - and we start badly with an incompetent choice. It isn't that there's anything wrong with the oak-smoked salmon with a remoulade of Dorset crab (£14) or a salad of garden vegetables with pea shoots and walnut oil dressing (£9.50). It's just that there's nowhere near enough cooking involved to deliver that kick of magically added value. I can buy good smoked salmon myself, and though I'd have more difficulty sourcing leaves and herbs as botanically perfect as those served here, it is, when all's said and done, just a salad.

The main courses give us a better sense of what the kitchen can do. A pavé of organic salmon, served with crushed potatoes, salsify and asparagus, is hardly elaborate in terms of its technique but it is beautifully done - the fish like polished coral at its heart and the skin crisp and brittle. The poché-grillé Anjou pigeon is a more elaborate affair, first poached in a pigeon stock and then grilled. It is served, feet on, in a Damien Hirst bisection of the whole body and the double cooking results in a flesh that is tenderly pink, its offaly gaminess nicely complemented by a little copper saucepan of stewed petit pois.

For desserts Deborah sates her persistent cocoa craving with a Valrhona palet d'or, served with a milk ice cream and fresh raspberries (£10) - a gilded cylinder of dark chocolate mousse sitting on a crispy base. I go for a basil-scented crème brûlée, served with strawberry sorbet and raspberry coulis (£9) - and end up admiring it more than I like it. The very lightly sweetened crème brûlée, served naked on a thin disc of shortbread, tastes almost savoury against the concentrated fruit sugars of the sorbet - which is intriguing but not actually compulsive. It doesn't dent the general impression left by the meal though. Even as that ghastly lift is dropping us back to ground level our mood is still on the upper floors. E

Galvin at Windows London Hilton, 22 Park Lane, London W1 (020-7208 4021)

Food
Ambience
Service

£107 for food but a skyscraping wine list could double that

Side orders: Excellent outlooks

By Caroline Stacey

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