Restaurant review Chiswell Street Dining Rooms, 56 Chiswell Street, London.

"So that's a table for two in the name of Walsh at 8pm," said the cheery voice on the phone. "And just to let you know, the table's booked for two hours." "I'm not hiring a rowing boat," I pointed out coldly. "I thought I was booking a table for dinner." "Two hours," said the voice, with an attempt at firmness. "But if you need more time, I'm sure that will be no problem."

How can you know, dear reader, how much time you'll need for dinner? Can you guarantee you'll get through three courses in two hours? What if your pre-prandial chatter makes dinner start half an hour late? What if the atmosphere of candlelit romance keeps you swapping dreamy nothings over your fourth Drambuie until the waiters are sweeping up and putting chairs on the tables? What if you feel like storming out after the third pointless amuse-bouche?

At first sighting, the Chiswell Street Dining Rooms do not promise a long and leisurely repast. They're very modern, brash and incredibly noisy. The owners are Tom and Ed Martin, whose previous triumphs were The Gun in Canary Wharf – for years a popular, up-market gastro for Independent staffers – and The Botanist in Sloane Square, which is always crammed to the rafters with Chelsea-ites necking Becks whenever I walk past.

Sited on the corner of Chiswell and Milton Streets (the latter used to be Grub Street, legendary home in the 17th and 18th centuries to periodical publishers and their impoverished writers), the CSDR used to be a pub and is now that curious hybrid, an all-day gastropub that backs onto a hotel. The frontage is a beautiful dark green, the bar is stripped-down and brightly lit, and the dining areas are cleanly designed: cream walls, pale-olive leather tub chairs, wood panelling, big mirrors and huge vases of flowers. The whole place shouts 'Expense Account'. So does the clientele, in their gelled haircuts and Apprentice suits. So do the prices. So does the noise. The only thing that prevents you from turning tail and fleeing is the attitude of the waiting staff, who are unusually welcoming, and seem unlikely to bounce you off your table at 9.59pm.

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