Occasion: The Bloke's departmental dinner.
Venue: The Warhol Room at Quo Vadis.
Time: 7.30pm champagne reception for 8pm dinner.
Dress code: Black tie.

The Bloke and I duly arrived shortly after 7.30pm (forget being fashionably late - we weren't missing out on the champagne), me tottering about in punishing strappy sandals, him in a penguin suit. The private room hired for the dinner was upstairs, a rather sombre space enclosed by dark red walls hung with Warhol paintings and Damien Hirst creations (multi-coloured spots; dead butterflies, molecular structures). By 8pm, the champagne was flowing, the conversation got livelier and everyone had arrived. But at 8.30pm, the maitre d' was still flapping a seating plan. 8.45pm and place settings were only just being distributed. Even at 9pm, guests were still milling around, half chatting, half looking for their seats. I've been to corporate events catering for several hundred people managed with more finesse.

But from there, proceedings ran more smoothly, starting with an excellent bread selection - the rolls and focaccia are particularly recommended - and eased along by numerous bottles of red and white wine. I didn't get the names, but the red was maybe a year or so before its peak ("Too green", The Bloke declared as he drained his fourth glass).

Given the size of the event (50 or so people), the menu had been pre-selected, though a vegetarian option was provided on request. The starter of beef carpaccio was rather bland, five tissue-thin rounds of ruby raw beef topped with a mound of rocket and a dollop of crème fraiche. The Bloke made a face, and said it wasn't very good. He'd been for a business lunch with some bankers a few days before, and had eaten a much better version. I tried it, and was equally unimpressed, though my alternative wasn't any less disappointing. A couple of chunks of marinated artichoke heart, topped with more rocket and three parmesan crisps.

The main course was much better. Slices of lamb shank, de-boned and stuffed with a mixture of spinach and mushroom were good, perfectly timed and still wrapped in their layer of fat and skin so they were both succulent and flavoursome. The dish came with an almost syrupy mash (excellent), disks of carrot (very good) and undercooked, under-seasoned broccoli (left on the plate by me, but eaten by The Bloke because he was still hungry).

Dessert came just before post-dinner speeches began. I thought the slice of apple baked cheesecake with caramelised apples a let down, too: slightly too solid to be creamy, the apple chunks baked into the centre of the cheesecake a consistency that didn't quite work with everything else, the pastry base a bit soggy, and the caramelised fruit and sauce too scant.

Service couldn't be described as either seamless or discreet. Serving, wine pouring and plate clearing interrupted conversation and was occasionally haphazard (one person didn't have their main course served until all others on the table had started eating).

Maybe my expectations had been too high and to be fair, mass catered events are rarely pulled off successfully. Nothing we ate was terrible; it just didn't live up to the reviews, recommendations and publicity. I'm sure an ordinary meal here would be infinitely better and, if anything, I am all the more determined to revisit when the kitchen and front of house can deliver its best.

- Tracy Yam, 12/2003