As that mystifyingly underrated food critic Jim Bowen used to remind us, you can't beat a bit of El Bulli. Even those of us who have never eaten in Ferran Adria's temple to molecular gastronomy speak of it as probably the best restaurant in the world, and barely a month now passes without a protege opening up in London. It almost feels as though Adria has a plan, modelled on the one deployed by the emperor of Daleks after the apparent destruction of his species in the last Time War, to use former staff to infiltrate and assimilate the systems of earth.

A few weeks ago we considered the work of one acolyte at Bacchus in Hoxton, and there was little doubting the El Bulli, sous-vide influence from such adornments to the menu as "egg cooked at 65 degrees". At El Faro, on the other hand, which stands at the plug-ugly end of the Isle of Dogs, there are few giveaways. Chef Edward Guttierez is said to be an El Bulli man, but his menu is free from technical exhibitionism, and all the more enticing for that.

Quite how El Faro (The Lighthouse) came to be housed in a weird, round, brick building that might have been an information centre for nonexistent tourists when this area was unredeveloped slumland, I've no idea. But if it was purely on overheads grounds, it seems the falsest of economies. A restaurant/tapas bar serving such authentic and sparkling Spanish food deserves a far better, more accessible spot than this concreted stretch of river bank, separated from the prehistoric-looking cranes of Millwall Docks by a stretch of filthy, greasy Thames that has you humming Waterloo Sunset ("Dirty old river, must you keep rolling ...") on first sight.

That most poignant of Kinks' songs is believed (not by Ray Davies, in fact, but what does he know, even if he did write it?) to revolve around the 60s love affair of Julie Christie and Terence Stamp, and were El Faro airlifted and plonked down in the centre of town, it would be packed with the movie stars of today, because it has every element of a destination restaurant other than the destination. Although far from handsome, it feels cool, literally and otherwise, with its artless decor of stone tile flooring, wood panelling, white walls sparsely adorned with black and white prints and slightly clumping furniture. Smartly suited staff are attentive and incredibly knowledgable about the food, citing not just the region but the village in which the all-important suckling pig suckled until its early death.

Before we reached that pièce de résistance, we'd rattled through fresh bread rolls served with green olives and perfect allioli, and three delectable starters. Among some more recherché offerings at the tapas-y end of the menu (sea urchin sautéed with eggs, for example) are the usual suspects. Good calamari came with a fine Romesco sauce, and chorizo cooked in cider proved as gutsy a version of that princely sausage as you could wish for, the saliva gland-tweaking meatiness barely leavened by sprigs of rocket. The highlight, however, was a plate of gloriously sweet, faintly nutty, hand-carved, acorn-fed ham, served with garlicky, tomatoey toast, which had my friend musing wistfully about buying a couple of piglets and transplanting a mature oak into his garden, the fantasy beginning to unravel only when he remembered that he lives in Brixton.

That much vaunted suckling pig, succulent but a little bland despite its overnight stay in the oven, suffered by comparison with my ox cheek, a majestic dish that combined perfect tenderness with amazing depth of flavour, and came with an incongruously dainty raviolo filled with celeriac cream. A shared pudding of deliciously cinnamony foam of vanilla custard (posh zabaglione, really) concluded a terrific meal, yet as we sat outside over coffee, staring at the hideous scenery and the putrid Thames, contemplating a fiddly journey home, it wasn't Waterloo Sunset that came to mind but the work of another of the great modern English lyricists. "Right people, right time," as Dennis Waterman so presciently put it in the Minder theme tune, "just the wrong location."

Rating: 8.25/10

Telephone 020-7987 5511
Address 3 Turnberry Quay, Pepper Street, London E14
Open Mon-Fri, lunch noon-3.30pm, dinner 5-11pm; Sat, 1-11pm; Sun, 1-5pm
Price Meal for two with wine, £40-50 a head