Telephone: 01273 471777
Address: 145 High Street, Lewes, East Sussex
Rating: 16.5/20

First the hard part: parking. If God had really wanted to break Job's resolve, He would have sent him to Lewes with instructions to park his car legally within striking distance of the town centre on a Thursday night (or any other night, I imagine). I have never come across a town less accommodating to the helpless visitor. We toured up and down highway and byway, my brother and his family and I, for hours, it seemed, before we finally found a niche.

I suppose that I can't blame Lewes for the buffeting wind we had to endure walking to the restaurant, but I'm half inclined to do so. Things have changed in the town since Daisy Ashford wrote The Young Visiters here. Or perhaps they haven't.

Circa, however, was a cheery. It wouldn't attract much attention in London, Leeds or Manchester - plate-glass windows, blond wooden flooring, chrome fittings, slimmed-hipped lighting - but in the curlicued streets of tasteful, red-brick Lewes, Circa makes something of a statement. I had been directed to it by a kindly reader, who said that he had no financial interest in the place, but rather approved of the food. In this, Mr Knowles, you are quite right. The menu alone commands a certain respect: twice-cooked pork belly with Japanese apricot sauce and what was described as "floured anchovy"; blue swimmer crab and pink grapefruit spoon with pomegranate lead; butternut squash and tofu curry; roasted cod, fluffed potato, soya infusion and jalapeno bean salsa; and steamed fruit pot stickers with three shooter dip are not dishes that you find everywhere. Or, indeed, anywhere.

It is the food of a young chef. No one over 30 would have the kind of chutzpah or energy to move things around like this. The last time I came across cooking of this kind of eclecticism and bravura was in The Ivory Tower in Cork. It is difficult to ascribe such dishes to this tradition or that, or to come to any useful conclusions as to its provenance. It is Japanese and Chinese food interpreted in terms of European eating habits. Or, more specifically, British eating habits. Many of the ingredients and cooking techniques were oriental, but the dishes were constructed along the unmistakable meat-with-sauce-and-two-veg lines that we know and love.

There being six of us, includ ing young James, aged seven, we were able to run riot through much of the menu. To list everything that we ate would take up the rest of the page, which would be plain boring. So here is a list of those dishes that met with loudest acclaim: the aforementioned twice-cooked pork belly; roasted Chinese style quail with yellow mung bean soup and hot bread dipper; fast-roasted lamb rump with chilli ratatouille and brie potato; seared calves' liver with Meaux mustard, pineapple and foie gras cream; panned beef fillet with orange dust and tamarind oxtail casserole; and chocolate marquise, rice crisp and blood-orange ice cream.

These dishes were characterised by knockabout, knockout flavours. Blockbuster rather than delicate, rock and roll rather than classical, Premiership rather than La Liga, Andy Flintoff rather than Anil Kumble, if you catch my drift. Sauces were full bosomed things, well finished, not without sophistication but vivid and muscular. The protein was treated with firmness and respect, and had been well sourced. The other bits on the plate carried as strong flavours as the main event. It's an approach that worked best with ingredients that provided a solid foundation and could take the treatment.

It worked less well with the less robust raw materials - for example, fried sea bass with coconut spinach; tempura oysters; chicken and salted squid salad; and roasted duck breast and Parma ham choi. It wasn't that these dishes were a disaster, just less noteworthy, less satisfying.

But then, satisfying my family is a notoriously difficult thing to do. Criticism seems to flow as naturally out of our mouths as food and drink disappear down them, and praise and pleasure at Circa far outweighed any carping. In fact, the most extreme complaint was simply envy. Even young James wolfed down everything put in front of him, and tasted bits from everyone else's plate.

The fact that the children's menu was a derisory £6 meant that the bill came to £182.80, which included a bottle of crackerjack Sancerre for £19.75 and a perfectly decent pinot noir for £18.75, which, as any keen student of the modern wine list will tell, is not overpriced. The same might be said of the food: £129.30, or just short of £25 a head (£129.30, minus £6 for the children's menu, and so divided by five, if you doubt my maths). I felt quite mellow about Lewes by the time we headed out into the howling storm.

· Open Tues-Sun, 12-3pm and 6-10pm (not Sun). Menus: Lunch only, £16 for three courses; early evening, £18 for two courses, £20 for three; children's menu, £6 for two course. All major credit cards. Wheelchair access and WC.