Telephone: 020-7798 6888
Address: Dolphin Square, Chichester Street, London SW1
Rating: 16.5/20

• Allium has closed down since this review was published.

Before Allium was Allium, or rather allium, as the logo has it, it was Rhodes in the Square, as in Gary Rhodes in Dolphin Square, when Gary was all over our television screens and Rhodes restaurants were popping up like daffodils in spring. That was then and this is now, and all those Rhodes restaurants have quietly taken on other identities.

Dolphin Square is a curiosity - an apartment fortress of middle-class virtue in the wilds of Pimlico. Once inside its staid corridors, it's hard to imagine a world of Big Brother, Asbos, yob culture, iPods or even the Olympic games. It's a muffled universe, comfortable, solid, old-fashioned, more John Nettles than Nadia. Yes, for all I know it may be heaving with delinquent aristos, derelict swingers, faded pop stars, arms dealers and corporate pirates from the world over. But it certainly doesn't seem that way.

Allium occupies a central space just inside the main entrance, and doesn't seem to have changed much in looks from the Rhodes days. The dominant colour is a kind of deep royal blue. And when I say dominant, I mean dominant - walls, carpets, chairs, the lot. There is a fair amount of chrome, too, and what look like portholes. What with the odd, telling splash of lime green, it reminded Mrs Fort, Miss Fort and me of nothing so much as the dining room on a smart cruise ship. I half expected to see a lot of chaps in blazers and yachting caps and women in slacks and silk blouses sitting down to lunch, but they were mostly very done up in blue or grey suiting - the women and the men.

The food, on the other hand, was definitely not of the cruise ship variety. The chef patron is listed as Anton Edelmann, longtime kitchen supremo at the Savoy hotel, and generally recognised as one of the most accomplished practitioners of his trade by his trade. The head chef, the fellow actually in charge of the day-to-day running of the kitchen, is Peter Woods. The food at Allium is, not surprisingly, right off the old Savoy River Room style sheet - smart, lively, light, modern and French.

Miss Fort started with tortellini of cèpes, followed by poached chicken breast, fried potatoes with artichokes and bacon, and finishing with rhubarb crumble and vanilla ice cream. For Mrs Fort it was ballottine of guinea fowl with sweetcorn and red onion salsa; seared fillet of bream with summer vegetables and herb beurre blanc; and plum tart with cinnamon ice cream. Scallops on caramelised sweetbreads, with lemon and thyme reduction; roast guinea fowl, summer vegetables and light velouté of tarragon; and whole baked peach with ginger and lemon, to bring up the rear, did for me.

There was only one out and out failure in all of these dishes - the ballottine of guinea fowl with the salsa, which looked pretty meagre on the plate and tasted of nothing at all, said Mrs Fort. Mrs Fort is a stern critic, and I trust her judgment implicitly. With the arrival of her seared fillet of bream she got over her disappointment, and a couple of mouthfuls into the dish was purring with pleasure. It was a judiciously rich combination, with crisp, compact fish resting on silky mash and velvety sauce. Miss Fort was purring from the word go. She is an authority on pasta and the tortellini had perfect pitch as far as she was concerned. She even offered to let me try some, and I agreed. She set about the chicken breast with equal vigour and put it away with similar enthusiasm. Rightly, too. The cooking was professional in the best sense of the word. The basics were correct, the little details attended to, the whole unchallenging perhaps, but satisfying nevertheless.

My dish of scallops and caramelised sweetbreads was the nearest thing to serious originality that we ate and, while it was fine, and all the parts perfectly cooked, I couldn't help asking, "Why?" I don't think there is enough of a contrast or a symbiosis between the offal and the shellfish to provide the answer. With the guinea fowl and summer veg I was back in more familiar and happier territory. The bird was juicy and full flavoured. The peas in the summer vegetables had come from pods, not packets, and the light velouté of tarragon was just that - luxuriant, not cloying, and shot with that odd wildness of tarragon.

All the puddings were greeted with marked enthusiasm. For once the crumble had the right proportion of topping to fruit (3:1). Mrs Fort remarked on the perfection of her pastry. Peaches take to baking very well, particularly when lifted with ginger and lemon, a fine, clever touch.

The bill was solid without being wallet-crippling - £85.80, with a further £40.25 for a bottle of fine rosé and various other drinks. Mrs Fort ate off the daily menu - £22.50 for three courses. Miss Fort supplemented the daily menu - £17.50 for two courses - with the tortellini of cèpes from the à la carte.

You don't have to guess whose lunch was the most expensive. So, you see, we had a fine time and a fine lunch. It didn't challenge, exactly, but I'm not sure that Dolphin Square is the place for challenges.

· Open: Lunch: Tues-Fri, 12noon-3pm. Dinner: Tues-Sat, 6pm-10pm. Sunday lunch: 12noon-2.30pm.
Menus: Lunch, £17.50 for 2 courses; £22.50 for 3. All major cards