NOPI

"One hundred pounds?"

"One HUNDRED pounds?"

"ONE HUNDRED pounds?!"

This was the refrain, said with increasing disbelief and at ascending pitch, which for a good few hours after we had spent just shy of that amount on a meagre dinner and one bottle of wine at NOPI, was all my best friend Andrew could say. Nor can I blame him for such vocal incredulity; in (too) many years of eating out I don't think I've ever left a restaurant feeling as thoroughly fleeced as on this occasion, which is a shame as I genuinely believe that NOPI's intentions are far more noble than its approach to pricing.

NOPI - it's a silly neologism denoting 'North Of PIccadilly' - is the first restaurant proper from Yotam Ottolenghi, the deservedly-respected food writer and owner of an eponymous chain of high-end deli-cafés in some of London's chi-chiest postcodes. To date my only experience of Ottolenghi's food had been a dinner party catered entirely from his vegetarian opus Plenty, and very nice it was too; excitingly vibrant flavours and colours, unusual ingredients (although increasingly less so, such has been Plenty's influence on many home cooks; Ottolenghi has done for pomegranate molasses what Delia did a few years ago for cranberries) and a palpable sense that love and thought had gone into every recipe. My expectations for NOPI then were along the lines of 'Plenty: The Restaurant'; similarly thrilling food served in fabulous surroundings.

The latter expectation was at least met; there's no denying that NOPI is a pretty gorgeous space. Occupying the completely-gutted-and-expensively-refurbished site of what was The Club Bar & Dining on Warwick Street, the design makes clever use of materials, texture and light to create a room that's bracingly modern, welcoming and warm. One long wall is covered with white tiles while the wall facing it is exposed white-painted brick; beautiful brass lamps hang low, diffusing a gentle glow throughout the room and furniture is of a warm, honeyed hue. Downstairs a smaller, more casual dining room accommodates two huge communal tables with a view of the open kitchen, source of the no-more-than-OK food which lets the rest of the experience down.

Divided into 'Veg', 'Fish', 'Meat' and 'Sweets' with between six and eight choices for each, the menu consists entirely of sharing dishes and diners are informed that 'We recommend three savoury dishes per person'. With £10 being the typical dish price and several at £12 I wondered if the 'We' in question was the management of NOPI or of their bank, but obediently we chose six dishes spanning the three savoury sections nonetheless. While we waited, bread was served with olive oil and a whipped beetroot and goats cheese dip, the nice-but-blandness of which was a precursor for everything that followed.

The first couple of dishes to come to the the table were between them the most and least interesting of the six we sampled. 'Beef brisket croquettes, Asian slaw' was three Babybel-sized parcels of yieldingly tender, star anise-spiced meat in a salty, crunchy crumb which we both enjoyed, even though we agreed that the slaw - basically just ribbons of veg - added nothing. 'Green beans, roasted hazelnuts, orange' on the other hand was just plain dull; fridge-cold and with indistinct flavours it might have worked as a side, but as a dish in its own right felt rather pointless.

Our two fish dishes, 'Pan-fried sea bass, turmeric potatoes, rasam' and 'Grilled mackerel, fresh coconut, mint and peanut salad' were good but uninspiring. The sea bass, combined with the potatoes and soupy rasam, was essentially a very mild fish curry, which had I not been spoiled with the mind-bendingly gorgeous fish tikka at Trishna recently I might have found more impressive. I enjoyed the zingy salad with the mackerel because it reminded me of the beautiful lotus stem salad I'd liked so much at Viet Grill, but the mackerel with it was, to be honest, just a nice - and small - bit of mackerel.

'Twice-cooked baby chicken, kaffir lime salt, chilli sauce' was tasty enough but only in the way that a poussin, seasoned generously and whacked under a hot grill, always is. The presentation was poor, the lime salt served in a plastic pot and the chilli sauce no more than a squeeze of Blue Dragon's finest in a glass saucer. This would have been fine if we were paying a fiver in a takeaway rotisserie joint but we weren't - this was a tenner in W1.

The real stinker of the night however was our last dish, 'Baked blu di bufala cheesecake, pickled mushrooms'. It sounded so promising, this savoury cheesecake; I was expecting a clever marriage of salty and sweet, a play on flavours like Nigel Slater's awesome Ploughman's Pie perhaps. What we actually got was a wedge - not a generous one either - of New York-style baked cheesecake which had the taste and texture of a decent blue cheese quiche. And for this - reader, take a moment to absorb this please - we paid twelve pounds. TWELVE pounds! TWELVE POUNDS! Of everything we ate this was the most  overwhelmingly disappointing and egregiously over-priced dish of the lot.

We simply didn't have any enthusiasm for dessert, figuring that if the rest of the menu was this humdrum then puds weren't going to redeem it, so we called for that astonishing bill. In fairness, £25 of the £94 total was a very decent bottle of Mar d'Avall Garnatxa 2009 from the eclectic and interestingly curated list, and we certainly didn't resent the 12.5% service charge as staff had all been efficient and friendly enough. But that still meant that, factoring in service, we paid about £65 for food that really should have cost at least 25% less.

There are some truly lovely things about NOPI in addition to the decor; huge attention has been paid to detail - a gold 'O' motif is repeated across menus and staff uniforms as well as being used for napkin rings and to weight down bills (already heavy enough, surely) - and the ultra-opulent mirrored loos would satisfy a modern-day Marie Antoinette. It's just a shame that the food being served and the prices being charged for it don't do the rest of the venture justice.

Even if the prices dropped - and for NOPI to survive I really think they must - the food isn't good enough to make me recommend the place when within a few minutes walk in either direction Polpetto and Bocca di Lupo are doing the sharing plates thing so much better. Also nearby is Mark's Bar at Hix to where, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, we adjourned for dessert; for much, much less than one hundred pounds, a piece of fantastic Amedei chocolate tart and a killer cocktail each, served by a hulking Slovak waiter, proved a very effective antidote to our disillusionment.

NOPI, 21-22 Warwick Street, London W1B 5NE Tel: 020 7494 9584 http://www.nopi-restaurant.com  

Viet Grill, Shoreditch

I first experienced Vietnamese food at the age of about 17. My cousin-by-marriage Paulette Do Van had recently published 'Vietnamese Cooking' and invited the family for a feast made up of some of the delicious dishes in her terrific book. At the time - the early 1990s, for anyone uncharitable enough to be wondering just when I would have been 17 - it all seemed ever so new and exciting; growing up in a little Dorset farming village, a Chinese takeaway passed for exotic (hell, Spag Bol had felt fairly epochal) so the fragrant, colourful cuisine of the Indochine was a true novelty. Paulette's stuffed chicken wings were amazing and remain to this day a favourite (if fiddly) thing to make at home.

Seventeen years on and Vietnamese food is understandably and deservedly much more widely available, nowhere more so than along Kingsland Road in the East End. Seemingly every business that isn't an über-trendy bar or edgy boutique is a Vietnamese restaurant, all confusingly similarly named; within doors of each other stand Song Que, Que Viet, Viet Hoa, Mien Tay and Tay Do. It's no wonder that, as a work colleague local told me, arranging to meet at one or other of them requires giving minutely specific details and directions. Locals also know that the many restaurants on the strip fall into one of two categories, summed up perfectly by my dinner date Matt Bramford who asked over drinks beforehand whether we were going to "one of the cheap ones or one of the posh ones".

Viet Grill is, it turns out, one of the 'posh ones', essentially meaning that some thought and money has gone into decor and staff training in contrast to the plastic seats, strip lighting and perfunctory service at some of the 'cheap ones'. The investment has paid off, because this is a lovely, lovely place. Entering under the bright yellow neon sign that makes Viet Grill stand out from its more conservatively façaded neighbours, we were greeted by the smell of incense, a lively buzz ("Hanoisy" one might say) and a very smiley greeter who showed us to our table without a murmur about our being fifteen minutes late. The room was a bit overwhelming at first; the walls are papered in a very bold leaf print which made the space feel as loud visually as aurally, but we quickly became used to both.

For the uninitiated, Vietnam's cuisine draws on the traditions of the many countries which either border, have colonized or have traded with it over the centuries. To quote Paulette Do Van, "From China the Vietnamese adopted their love of noodles, the way of cooking, the healthy stir-fry methods...Laos, Cambodia and Thailand have influenced the Vietnamese in their use of herbs...The Indians and Portuguese brought spices, [and] the French, who colonized Vietnam, forced the Vietnamese to be inventive." This is all in evidence on the extensive menu at Viet Grill, from which we struggled to choose just a few dishes; those we eventually did order were all, without exception, excellent.

First up were both spring and summer rolls (autumn and winter rolls it would seem do not exist, at least not here). The former were the familiar crisp-shelled offering, made exemplary by the filling of whole, fat king prawns; the latter, a pair of beautiful translucent parcels wrapped in sticky rice paper and bursting with fragrant mint, chopped vermicelli and more juicy prawns. Neither needed accompaniment, the flavours speaking for themselves, but the nuoc cham - Vietnam's pungent, fish-based riposte to China's soy - and chilli sauce provided made for great dipping.

Next came a lotus stem salad, a super-fresh, technicolour assembly which as well as the clean-tasting crunchy stems consisted of shredded pork, shrimps, Vietnamese basil, peanuts and lime zest. What the dressing was I'm not sure but it was incredible; slightly sharp, slightly sweet, I'd guess maybe a little galangal in the mix somewhere, its brightness made me gasp for joy with the first mouthful. Alongside it we scoffed a plate of 'piggy aubergine', grilled green Thai aubergine topped with minced 'pork sprinkle' and poached spring onions. All I can say of this delightfully slippy, oily, umami-rich dish is that it made me seriously reconsider my dislike of aubergine; if it's always this good then bring on the eggplant please.

Finally and fortuitously we chose what would appear to be something of a signature dish for Viet Grill. Described on the menu simply as 'Slices of monkfish', a gas burner was brought to the table and chunks of monkfish, marinated in saffron and galangal, were pan fried with great handfuls of dill before being served on top of cold rice noodles with fennel, peanuts, chillis and tangy shrimp sauce to taste. It was one of those brilliant dishes where every mouthful was as good as but subtly different from the last, and at just £13 for two it was extremely good value for money.

Wine lovers and oenophobes alike will delight in the interesting, France-heavy wine list with its brilliantly entertaining and informative descriptions; one wine is described as being "As stylish and distinctive as a Christian Louboutin stiletto", another as having "more fruit than convention demands". Wallet watchers might find the arrangement of the list broadly by grape type rather than price disorienting; look around though and there's plenty to be had for under and around £20 a bottle, including our rich, buttery Calbuco 2009 Chilean Sauvignon Blanc at £21.50 which, as promised, was perfect with our monkfish and indeed pretty much everything.

From the greeter, to our (lovely, knowledgeable, patient) waiter and the manager who insisted on personally showing off his monkfish-frying prowess, service was impeccable and we never felt rushed, even though we took ages to decide what to order  - too busy gossiping about mutual Twitter pals - and lingered over every delicious dish - too busy gossiping about the launch of the brilliant new book from Amelia's Magazine, of which Matt is fashion editor. The bill, for five dishes of superb food, our bottle of wine and 12.5% service came to £64 which felt entirely reasonable. At one of the 'cheap ones' we'd have no doubt paid only half as much, but had only half the fun. I know which I'd rather have.

As a civil rights activist and equality campaigner of many years' standing (under her married name of North) I'm not sure what Cousin Paulette would make of the apparent inequality at play on the Kingsland Road with the potential threat posed to the established, cheap 'n' cheerful joints by classier, chicer venues like Viet Grill. But one thing's for sure; I doubt she'd be able to find anything to fault with the food.

Viet Grill, 58 Kingsland Road, London E2 8DP Tel: 020 7739 6686 http://www.vietnamesekitchen.co.uk/vietgrill