It has become commonplace for big name chefs looking for a costly central location to turn to the relative security of high profile hotels. This year we've had Dinner by Heston Blumenthal at the Mandarin Oriental (also home to Bar Boulud, launched late last year) with its clever fruity take on chicken liver parfait. Also in 2010 Michael Caines opened his ABode in Chester, a brand new hotel and restaurant delivering decent tuck in the evening and B&B, and Pierre Koffmann returned to The Berkeley with the successor to La Tante Claire, Koffmann's. Most recently of all Fergus Henderson and Trevor Gulliver opened their own place, St John Hotel in April of this year, with minimalist décor and very late servings of doubtless excellent food, and Silvena Rowe is due to launch her new place Quince at the Mayfair Hotel in a matter of weeks.

Then there are the "restaurants with rooms", where the food is the main draw but you can extend your stay past pudding - I'm thinking of places like the Horn of Plenty in Gulworthy, Devon, where Peter Gorton creates such splendours as breast of wood pigeon with caramelised chicory, orange and candied hazelnuts. Sat Bains has a great place near the River Trent serving the likes of roast scallop with Indian spices, fennel, cauliflower and garlic cream and much is made of Skye's Three Chimneys restaurant with its 'house over by'. Along with some notable exceptions, such as Raymond Blanc's Le Manoir aux Quat' Saisons, whose primary function is a restaurant, these smaller places manage to get the balance right, offering good food and wine in comfortable surroundings that will leave you feeling grateful you can slope off to slip under the sheets.

But there is something rotten, I have come to realise, about most hotel restaurant experiences, however opulent and sophisticated the surroundings and acclaimed the chef.

I recall having a decent meal at Gordon Ramsay's Maze Grill, inside the Marriott hotel. The burgers were fantastic, my plate of charcuterie just the job with its rabbit rillette, crunchy cornichons and divine chicken liver pate. But I couldn't wait to leave. The great food was marred by a complete lack of ambience. The actual building itself felt antiseptic. The only view from our table was of a brace of porters schlepping luggage onto a trolley, and other constant reminders of the hotel, from the doorman in his tall hat to the concierge with his notice of waiting taxis.

I was reminded of the very different hotel restaurant I had eaten in for a friend's 70th birthday. We treated her to an eight course extravaganza at three Michelin starred Alain Ducasse at the Dorchester. The food, including Scottish crab, pheasant, heavenly cheeses, bitter chocolate with coffee granita was wonderful, the service was efficient, and the wines perfect. We all hated it. To get to the restaurant - and use the toilet - we had to walk through the hotel lobby, populated by rich-looking ladies taking tea, and even richer gentlemen drinking single malt and champagne. The music was piped, and the carpets a foot thick. There were porters checking people out and cleaners rubbing brass door handles.

Recently I found myself wandering into a branch of Brasserie Gerard, thinking its menu of steak frites, moule and omelette would be just the ticket for a quick lunch. Immediately it felt wrong. Was it the multitude of fire exit signs and stacks of leaflets advertising London bus trips and Les Miserables? Perhaps it was the fact that none of the diners looked to be having a good time - most appeared to be staying at the hotel, and had presumably paid for full board. The food took an age to come and was mediocre at best.

There are plenty of hotel restaurants that lack atmosphere; those that take advantage of their captive audience by offering poor quality food and charging through the nose for it are unfortunately even more ubiquitous. I've been burned too many times too take a chance now. I recently happened upon a classic steak frite restaurant in Paris. Its blackboard chalked promises of Coq au Vin and orange crepes, and the busy dining room and delicious smell of pastries almost had me until I saw a couple with suitcases checking out on the other side of the bar. I legged it. Am I being unfair?