Brasserie is all gong and no dinner

It was a thought that occurred while watching my friend Kate listlessly toying with a first-course salad at the newly- opened St Germain brasserie and bar (their description) in Clerkenwell.

The salad, called St Germain, described as baby spinach, baby gem, red pepper, asparagus shoots, croutons, mustard dressing, was £6.50 starter size. A small bowl arrived sporting mixed leaves, a few threads of red pepper, not many croutons, some rather sour cherry tomatoes and a minuscule amount of dressing.

Of asparagus shoots, whatever those are, there were none. Pressed on this last point, the amiable American waiter went to the kitchen and came back with a handful of sprouted mustard seeds, the sort sometimes grown with cress, but these hadn't been included in the salad.

Even being able to make a joke about eats shoots and leaves didn't compensate for an outrageous mark-up on ingredients coupled with utter feebleness in the assembling and dressing. That salad was over-priced - as was a first course of Provençale vegetables accompanied by a teeny-weeny amount of pesto for £5.

St Germain burst onto the scene last month, its publicity bravely inviting comparison with classic Paris brasseries like Lipp and also New York restaurants such as Keith McNally's Balthazar and Pastis. "Balthazar and Pastis? No," said Kate. "Bedlam? Yes."

A converted printworks with high brick walls, tiled floors and bare tables, the noise at St Germain was indeed deafening and ultimately defeating, especially in the booths close to the bar where we were sitting.

A curious role reversal had taken place in our orders of steak tartare and cheeseburger. The tartare, served ready mixed, had the brown appearance of cooked - or perhaps just oxidised - minced meat while the interior of the burger was the shade of pink you associate with raw flesh.

Gherkin had obliterated the flavour of the tartare which probably hadn't been difficult since the burger tasted of nothing at all. Slender chips (allumettes) looked as if fried from frozen.

Coq au vin should be a good test of a brasserie. St Germain failed it miserably. In place of a mature, strong-boned bird slow-cooked in a casserole with lardons, mushrooms, onions and a robust red wine, there was a vapid breast of chicken placed on the plate surrounded by a liquid that seemed a distant relation of Marmite. Duck confit with Lyonnais Ratte potatoes was a better dish, the duck leg succulent and not frazzled as often happens.

A wider choice of French wines would have sharpened the brasserie definition, but St Germain isn't really a brasserie, it's just another overpriced London restaurant.

Price above estimates a meal with wine for one.

St Germain
89-90 Turnmill Street, EC1M 5QU