Restaurant Spy's serial stalker Mark White came to mind here in this ordinary old-wave Italian restaurant when a bowl of olive oil and balsamic vinegar was plonked down on our table for bread dipping. At least it was bread and not toast thankfully....(see Mosaica).

It almost feels like the eighties, nineties and 00's have passed San Agostino by. Food is Abigail's party hell, mucked about with modern-day pretensions. My rack of lamb was bland, drudged by an indescribable brown sauce, Q's monkfish was tasty but salty. We had a shared starter of Carpaccio with celery which was melt-in-the-mouth but expensive and tiny and we gamely attempted some desserts - mine a Cinnamon ice-cream that I couldn't finish.

Sorry to sound cagey but it was all alright but bland and a huge disappointment. Should do better or could do better....who knows? M