Hot little Number

I can't say I'm approaching Number Twelve with anticipation: its hotel adjunct nature, 'moderne' decor and traffic-clogged location ain't exactly winking at me.

But head chef Santino Busciglio and his mostly Italian brigade deliver food that can make you forget the drabbest of surroundings (and to be fair, the restaurant is only bland, not dismal).

He marries Italian flair with British provenance to excellent effect.

So we get the simplicity of a first-class mozzarella salad but also the sophistication of some velvety yellowfin tuna, crusted with salt and fennel seeds - maybe a little sugar - seared and served with a gorgeous sour-sweet salad of razor-thin fennel, onion and pine nuts.

Scottish red-leg partridge comes as a whole, roasted breast with shredded leg meat, Savoy cabbage, some clovey, slightly too soupy, bread sauce and a weeny nugget of foie gras.

But, oh gosh, the cheeses. We ask how many we're allowed... all of them! A platter groaning with excellent La Fromagerie specimens arrives, all seductively oozing and whiffing. Deepest joy.

Factor in reasonable wine prices - with some great choices by the 375ml carafe - and 15 types of home-baked bread, and this unassuming joint turns out to be one hot little number.

Number Twelve
Upper Woburn Place, London, WC1H 0HX