Just round the corner from the BBC is the Langham hotel. 150 years old and ageing nicely. The latest addition: Roux at the Landau. Michel Roux Jnr (Robin), and his rather more jowly father Albert (Batman) combining their powers for the good of mankind with all the best in French cooking with an extra chic appeal.

The newly-installed chef, Chris King, is a fresh-faced slip of a lad who learnt at the knee of Masterchef's favourite silver fox. And - as anyone who's eaten at Le Gavroche will know - he's learned from an exacting and serious-minded Obi Wan. Le Gav is one hell of a finishing school - the list of chefs who've understudied there could be collected into a Burkes of the culinary universe. As the greengrocer says - cooking doesn't get tougher than this. French food is one of those UNESCO protected things, like Stonehenge. Or the tango. You don't muck around with it. So I was expecting a lot.



Given the heritage of this place, it wasn't that much of a surprise when it turned out to be spectacularly good. So much impeccably-prepared food, in fact, that I had to log on to the website after dining to check exactly what it was that I ate (that's nothing to do with the couple of post-prandial digestifs that slipped down). Ignore the ersatz jazz when you visit the website; just check out the menus. It's French cuisine, but nothing dripping in butter or a variety of unctuous sauces. It's lighter, subtle - modern chic. And they've got the old coup de théâtre right - they leave you wanting more.





My companions and I each went for the tasting 'sommelier' menu, seven courses each with a matching glass of something rather special. I found the white bean veloute, served over a couple of marble-sized croquettes of Manchego, a touch bland. OK, subtle. But it was just a warm up - accompanied by a palate-opening sherry - for what was still to come. Citrus cured salmon with beetroot, crème fraîche and caviar was better, but trumped by a sensational fillet of sea bass. A big hunk of fish, perfectly cooked with a crispy salty skin and meaty flesh, served with lashings of brown shrimps. It was like a 1950's seaside holiday on a plate. And the best thing I ate all night. And still the plates arrived; a rapid shift from white to red wine, and a soft boiled egg with chicken oysters, beef which was so tender it was hard to get it on the fork and finally to cheese, a pear and walnut soufflé and petit fours.

The Landau has only been operating under the Roux banner for about a month, and it looks like it might be a slow burner. During a festive week when pretty much everywhere else was over-booked, there were - noticeably - tables unoccupied all night. The atmosphere can only improve. Still, with cooking of this standard, it can't be long before bums hit the pistachio-green seats. Just get rid of that bloody awful music.