Butler's Wharf Chop House, London, 05.11.11

Butler's Wharf Chop House has an enviable position on the river firmly in the shadow of Tower Bridge. A previous visit several years ago comprised of a generous steak and kidney pudding sitting outside on the terrace. Today's visit was a chillier affair in the cloudy November Saturday gloom.

Lunch service seemed to tick over with plenty of tables picking over oysters and steaks in relaxed fashion. Diners are given the choice of different menus in the bar or restaurant areas. We chose a restaurant table alongside the set menu (two courses £23, three courses £27). Service was prompt and delightfully friendly if a little lost in translation at times.

To start, the mussels were a simple but comforting affair with a straight-forward white wine and garlic sauce that boasted great depth of flavour. The portion was adequate but shell after shell appeared empty and there were no survivors at the bottom of the bowl. A starter of game terrine was good ole slab but was underseasoned and lacked real flavour.

The fish pie was excellent- hearty chunks of fish and boiled eggs with a lightly toasted potato mash topping. The whole plaice came decorated with samphire and capers ( advertised "sea vegetables") but was a little soggy and over-buttered. The ox cheek was enormous but could have benefited from substantially longer in the oven. It was rubber-textured with unsavoury gelatinous seams- all this could have been improved with the slow cooking it deserves. A few sides of vegetables would have been welcome, especially with a £27 menu.

With half an ox cheek declined, there was room for sticky toffee pudding with clotted cream. It was a mediocre experience- a little dry and lacking in stick.

Altogether we were left feeling a little deflated by the Chop House Experience, and had wished we had gone with the appealing bar menu. Our mood was alleviated by the low pendant light hanging off centre over our table. Multiple head bangs later (diner number 1) we were sent off chuckling into the afternoon drizzle.

The Prince Regent, Marylebone, London. 16.07.11

The Prince Regent take two.

I had a pretty decent Sunday lunch here over two years now, but today wasn't my first visit since- I had a fairly disastrous mid-week meal here earlier this year with friends. We all had fish and chips- staple British pub fodder- but it couldn't have been more disappointing. The fish was dry, the batter dark brown, and every so often we found black chips which had very obviously spent a little too long lying in the fryer.

All credit to Prince Regent though, as the comment card we filled in was acted upon and today's lunch was a freebie. Sound simple? Well, almost simple. Firstly they wouldn't take our booking for lunch because of a group booking, but on second phone call they decided they could. The pub turns out to be only averagely busy when we get there. Next, the helpful manager is a little undecided as to what the deal was when we arrive. Our original party had been five people, and now we have diminished to four, but he tells us that the freebie would be for two people. Now we are beginning to think we were wasting our time. No such thing as a free lunch? Obviously not.

The food itself is decidedly better than last time. My pork cassoulet is plentiful, with big chunks of chorizo and pork, albeit the latter feels like it might be the reincarnated leftovers of a previous Sunday roast. The accompanying bread is brilliantly fresh. The spinach and lentil burger is true to form, with not a cremated chip in sight. A few extra chunks of cod would make the fish stew a little more worthwhile. The sticky toffee pudding is a generous portion indeed, but unfortunately it is stone cold. I am reluctant to complain (again) but enjoy it nonetheless.

We broker a deal that the main meals and soft drinks are complimentary, and fork out for our Sierra Nevadas and desserts. Without doubt the Prince Regent has a fantastic location with plenty of foot-fall. I'm sure it will remain busy, but I suspect the number of customers who return might dwindle. Like my sticky toffee pudding, I'm left feeling luke-warm.