Jan Moir Are You Ready To Order

Is it wise to name something after another thing you admire or covet? I’d quite like to call S ‘George Clooney’, but I doubt that any of the latter’s suave good looks or plutonium grade charm would rub off on my terrine-chomping idiot boy. Equally, calling our rattling rust bucket of a car ‘the Porsche’ is hardly likely to make it wheeze round to the shops any quicker. Surely the same principle must apply to restaurants?

This has not stopped the folks who own The Mercer putting their faith in naming their new City establishment after the hip hotel of the same name in downtown Manhattan. Why should they do such a thing? If it is in a bid to transport some of that cool, downtown NYC vibe to uptight Threadneedle Street, well then they have had some success.

This Mercer has the high ceilings, big pillars, wood floors and wall mirrors that do indeed echo the style of many popular, capacious New York joints, and the large bar that runs down one side of the room underlines the whole cocktail shaking atmosphere. The colour scheme mixes an ocean of taupe-y Calvin Klein neutrals with crisp white tablecloths, the waves of greige broken by the occasional bowl of glowing citrus fruit on the bar: it all works in perfect harmony, and it is a beautiful room.

The menu is also a nice thing to look at, full of the kind of straightforward, popular British dishes that have become a fixture in many restaurants over the last 12 months or so.

Starters include a warm salad of black pudding, smoked bacon and poached egg; Colchester wild native oysters (£15 for half a dozen); potted Yorkshire ham hock; and Scottish salmon cured with lemon and rosemary. Main courses include the Mercer Pie (rump steak, mushroom and ale); roast leg of English lamb for two with duck-fat potatoes and minted peas, while there are also steaks from the grill section. A ‘quick lunch’ deal features three courses for £24, although for soup, ravioli and trifle, it is hardly the bargain of the century.

To begin, we have venison carpaccio with Armagnac prunes, lemon and parmesan, which sounds like a darkly delicious dish but is, in fact, a big disappointment. There is not much point in carpaccio if you are going to use tasteless meat and serve it at too cold a temperature, as one of these failings will only emphasise the other. It is plated badly too, with shavings of tired cheese dumped on top and a couple of old prunes just rolling around looking untidy, like me and my chums on a Friday night.

After this bland and wan overture, roast hake with braised oxtail isn’t much better. Although the fish is nicely cooked and full of flavour, it is ruined by being choked with bones. The small chunks of oxtail underneath the hake are tender and very tasty, but the dish is spoiled by replacing the advertised watercress with baby gem lettuce, which wilts and sags horribly under the onslaught of a shallot and oxtail sauce. It should have never left the kitchen like this.

It’s all a trifle odd

I note that the chef seems to have a real thing about trifle. Could this be another problem? There is a sherry trifle on the menu proper, alongside a daily special of black forest trifle, plus rhubarb trifle on the ‘quick lunch’ menu: so much trifle that, in fact, the cynical might conclude that there are great margins to be gleaned from them. Confusion arises, especially when one realises that the sherry trifle contains rhubarb and could quite possibly be the rhubarb trifle, as there’s not very much sherry in it at all. And there’s further misery as, like a cracked river bed, the cream trifle topping is starting to dry out in sympathy with the dried out cake layer underneath. So as far as sherry trifles go, this one came and went without leaving any distinguishing memories in its wake at all.

What a funny place The Mercer is. At first glance it is all cool and groovy, but a chilly, hard sell lurks just beneath the surface. Diners are encouraged to buy bottled mineral water and extra vegetables with just a little too much gusto from the waiting staff, even if the front of house are efficient and charming. Indeed, the restaurant is well run out front; the problems are all in the kitchen, where a lack of focus and attention to detail leads to some dish drift.

Drinks-wise, The Mercer seems to be expecting a lot of celebrating; do they know something we don’t? The wine list creaks with magnums of vintage champagne and jeroboams to celebrate that special bonus. For everyday City imbibing, there’s a £2000 Chateau Petrus to make you forget about the shrinking credit lines, and a nice £450 Chateau d’Yquem to wash down a trifle or two with. Meanwhile, back in the real world, we opt for a Cahors Clos La Coutale 2005 (£22). It is nothing like the old, chewy, inky Cahors they used to produce before wine producing became more refined in that area of south-west France. This is certainly a better made wine - smooth but a little indistinct – although S misses the old leathery, liquorice days of proper, rackety Cahors. Of course he does! All around, I notice that there is a bottle of water on every table; testament to the assertiveness of the staff, perhaps, but more likely a clear sign of restaurant where all the punters are on expenses.

The London Mercer is an attractive place. I’d like to like it more, but the food needs to get better first.

• The Mercer, 34 Threadneedle Street, London EC2R 8AY. Tel: 020 7628 0001. £70 for two, excluding drinks and service.