Address: 68 Vicar Lane, Leeds
Telephone: 0113 242 8732
Rating: 15.5/20

I waited for Tucker, and waited and waited. For Tucker not to show was almost inconceivable. Had I got the day wrong? Had he got the day wrong? Had I given the wrong address? Had he mistaken it? Had some calamity overtaken the poor fellow?

Anxiety and irritation fought each other for possession of my soul, with irritation winning out. Followed by guilt. It would not be the first time that I have been the architect of my own misfortune, such is the state of my memory. Still, it gave me some time to study the interior aspect of the Gallery, a modish new eatery at the top of Leeds fashion emporium Flannels. Flannels sells the kind of clothes that are not meant for men like me, who are broad in the hip and broader in the beam, men who are shaped like beanbags rather than the slender wraiths whose favourite colour is grey in various shades.

The restaurant has been designed by Universal Design Studio, which recently completed an award-winning project for Stella McCartney, so the publicity material told me. I don't know what they have done for Stella, but here the effect is a cross between a barn conversion (massive wooden beams), retro-industrial chic (girders bolted to massive wooden beams, non-skid flooring), functional asceticism (white walls, unpadded chairs, dark, stark Starck tables) and futurist shock (lighting that hung like circular magnets just overhead). In spite of all this effort, I found it curiously dull - characterless, even - but it was pleasant enough, and filled with natural light from the huge windows on three sides.

But fancy design notions are not enough to draw me all the way to Leeds. The other, and more potent, ingredient in the Gallery's mix, from my point of view, is the cooking of Simon Gueller - or rather his imprint on the menu. Gueller has been something of a Leeds culinary wunderkind, even if his restaurants have an unnerving habit of vanishing not long after they have been glowingly reviewed. Still, he is a cook of skill and panache, and the menu at the Gallery shows off the skill rather than stylish pyrotechnics. It is designed for ladies and men for whom light lunching is part of the shopping experience. The food is, for the most part, easy on the tum - lentil soup, goats' cheese ravioli, mushroom risotto, Parma ham, rocket and Parmesan, smoked haddock, seared tuna Niçoise, chicken, lemon and thyme - although there are a few dishes, such as shepherd's pie and calf's liver with mash, for those looking for Yorkshire substance.

Believe it or not, I am no snob when it comes to food of this sort (or any sort, come to that). My only concern is whether it has been well cooked or badly cooked. The lentil soup with which I started was very well cooked, refined, almost silky. Leaves of wilted spinach added a seductively gloppy note, and a single tortellini of very stiff pasta brought another thoughtful contrast. But the thing that made the dish was the half-lemon left for me to squeeze into the soup. The juice had the effect of sharpening the flavours, and was a thoughtful, intelligent touch.

I have forsworn potatoes for Lent (simple fasting; I will have no Atkins nonsense, thank you), so the kitchen kindly replaced them with veg of the day - a few French beans, a stack of mangetout and a couple of florets of broccoli. I can't really complain about these, because they were accurately cooked, but they were hardly a serious accompaniment to a really fit breast of chicken stuffed with lemon and thyme. The breast had a decent pedigree, and had been wrapped in prosciutto before being, well, roasted, I suppose, or possibly fried. Whatever the method used, it was respectably moist, infused with the core of lemon peel and thyme, and its flavour amplified by the intensity of the gravy reduction. This was very keen, simple cooking.

I chose a rhubarb crumble by way of consolation for the absence of companionship, but it turned out to be more of a snappish, pull-yourself-together kind of pudding. I am not sure that any sugar had been added to the rhubarb, which must have been the first of the season from the Rhubarb Triangle (Leeds, Wakefield and Bradford). And the crumble was no more than a scattering of crumbs on the top, not the thick, sugary tile that I prefer. On the other hand, it came with a dollop of very good ginger ice cream, which I plonked on top and ate as it melted into the tart rhubarb, and that was very good, even if the dish would not have passed muster as a crumble in my house.

Had I not had a bottle of decent Australian shiraz for £19 (hang on - I had been expecting to share it), the bill might have been as fashionably slim as the space and the clothing. The soup was £4, the chicken £9 and the pudding £3.50. Believe me, that is not expensive for good ingredients and good cooking.

Oh, and what was the reason behind Tucker's nonappearance? Of course, it was all my fault.

· Open: All day, Tues-Sat, 10am-6pm; Sun, 12 noon-4pm.