Ooh, a new French restaurant at The Dorchester. What tastier treat this Christmas?

Stepping through its dimmed portals is like a carpet to celeb heaven - I swear I saw Kate Moss nipping out to the loo. "May we bring you a glass of champagne?" purred our waitress. "Yes, yes!" we cried instinctively.

As, looking around, did everyone else. A nice scam that, at £12 a pop. The decor was expensively beige, quirked up with a few designer "statements" - for instance, a white porcelain vegetable adorns every table.

My squid bonbons with crunchy green vegetables were a thing of wonder - how could such sophisticated tastes emerge from ingredients so simple?

My friend was in raptures over a starter of delicately steamed langoustines and frothy truffled jus, rightly considering the £10 supplement (cheeky given it is already a minimum of £75 for three courses).

Mains were almost, comparatively, a disappointment. We both went for fish so we could share white wine (our £45 bottle was the second cheapest on the list), but found our baked sea bass with shellfish, and a halibut in nicoise sauce both bland.

Bah humbug, we thought - until the pudding orgy started. First came exquisite handmade chocolates - served on a slab of chocolate, plus a pot of those posh minimacaroons. Then the refreshing desserts: "apple composition" (various scrumptious varieties of apple cake) and The Girl From Ipanema (a martini glass of foam, beautiful brulee and caramelised pineapple).

Then came the magic words... "May I give you a selection of sweets, for my pleasure?" asked the waiter. He may. The bill may have cost half our Christmas fund, but we left clutching an improvised Santa sack bulging with our fancy patisseries. Meal at Alan Ducasse at the Dorchester: £240. Free pastries in bed next morning? Priceless.