Babylon lacks spice

Those who have read Tom Bower's Branson (Fourth Estate, £17.99), the unauthorised biography of Sir Richard Branson, might conclude that it is quite consistent of "the grinning jumper" to invest millions in a new restaurant project at a moment when some of his other enterprises appear to critics to be somewhat shaky. To call it BABYLON, sometimes used as a synonym for corruption or exile, just adds to the chutzpah. Babylon, built a floor above the famous roof gardens of what was originally Derry and Toms, is apparently Branson's first wholly-owned restaurant but his investment in Le Manoir aux Quat'Saisons in Oxfordshire means that superchef Raymond Blanc is on tap to advise.

I went to Babylon on what must have been one of the hottest nights of this summer. Although there are terraces which overlook the roof gardens, no tables or chairs furnished them. (This was due to be put right). We were led to an uncomfortably small table in a row of similarly tiny tables next to a window. How many pounds to eat at Babylon? Three score pounds and ten would be underestimating by more than a third a bill for two. Luxury is not only defined by Angus Scottish beef fillet (£21.50) and lobster (£32.50) featuring among main courses, it is also is embodied in space, a certain amount of privacy, and comfort. A modicum of these virtues can be found in the pale suede banquette seating set further back into the room.

The modern British menu, the sort of invention which nowadays comes across as conformity, is embellished by specials from which I chose a first course of scallops with butternut squash laksa. I had hoped for the many layers of flavour typical of that Malaysian noodle soup, and maybe even some of the noodles, but a sweetish orange pur?e was the chef's definition. Stilton souffl? with dandelion and rocket in a hazelnut dressing seemed like the souffl? equivalent of the egg-white omelette, a soft, savoury fluff with no desirable unctuousness. Fillet of brill pan-fried with clams in a broad bean and tarragon broth was a more diverting dish than yoghurt and spice-marinated corn-fed chicken served with aubergine pur?e and grilled asparagus. Does asparagus grow in India? I don't think so. It was an odd partner to Eastern flavourings.

The friendly manager offered to show us the private dining room, a room for 12 with a sensational view and its own terrace. On the way I asked him why, on such a night, were they burning the gas fire set high in a wall of the main restaurant. "If we turn it off, people think it is a microwave", he replied.

Babylon
Kensington High Street, London, W8 5ED