Great steaks, shame about the wine

We tried the stairs. I was starting to worry that we were about to emerge into the Gents when we rounded the corner into the dining room, a high, cool, cream-painted space decorated with black-andwhite hunting photographs. Just one other table was occupied. A combination of lofty ceilings and emptiness caused noise from the kitchen area to echo back through the restaurant disconcertingly.

This elegant place is doubtless much more convivial during the City's feeding time, lunch. And it is to City diners that Molloy's menu is calculated to appeal. That is the background of owner Patrick Molloy, previously chef and manager at fish restaurant Sweetings, a Square Mile institution.

Thus marinated squid with artichoke, chilli, coriander and tomato salad was the most adventurous starter, and good, too, but it is easier to imagine the suits tucking into gravadlax with sweet mustard dressing, or beef carpaccio.

Which is not at all to say Molloy's menu is dull. Instead it puts a refined twist on mostly traditional dishes. My perfectly pan-fried scallops were served on a bed of lentils and grilled chilli, an unexpected and satisfying accompaniment.

The same is true of the main courses. I opted for the Scottish fillet steak, a superb hunk of well-aged meat, served in a very rich gravy with garlic mash and wild mushrooms. The caramelised five-spice Gressingham duck was intense, with a beautifully crisp skin; roast sweet potato and braised chard were a good foil to its richness. This may be comfort food, but it is executed with precision and flair.

Desserts, finally, are aggressively old fashioned - chocolate pot, strawberry fool. The lemon tart was decent, the cheeses more average.

The dull wine list is a weak point, with just two whites and two reds each by the glass. French-dominated yet without the interest of more expensive traditional choices, there's not a lot here to detain you - certainly not the ho-hum Argentine pinot noir I had. A pretty average South African chenin blanc was served too warm until we complained; the waiter said the fridge wasn't working, although he did cool a bottle in an ice bucket to give my companion a glass.

Less impressive still was the fact that he spilt the entire glass over the table when serving it - a first for me in a decade of London dining (his commentary to the cooks - "I made a f****** mistake with the wine" - drifted back from the kitchen). Just as well there were plenty of other tables to move to. If I return to Molloy's, it will be at lunchtime - and with a steak-loving City boy.

Molloy's
48 Gresham Street, EC2V 7AY