#well walk

A moody view of Well Walk in Hampstead, London.

The Wells in Hampstead would have plenty going for it even if the food wasn't up to scratch.

There's the tall Georgian elegance of the building it sits in. Perched precariously on a steep crossroad near Hampstead village, it's surrounded by houses of a similar historic ilk

Then there's the Heath just a short hop and step away down Well Walk. One minute you're chugging your way through grimy Kentish Town, the next the car's parked and you're walking down a tree-lined path. Great for a Sunday stroll.

Fay Maschler's sister Beth Coventry, who also took on The Prince Bonaparte in Notting Hill, gave the place a major revamp in 2003 and it's a) still looking decently scrubbed and b) managing to maintain a throughput of punters. 

In fact The Wells is doing rather better than that. Heading for Sunday lunch on the 29th April we were warned when booking to get there early - you can't reserve the downstairs bar area.

Sure enough a queue was forming outside 20 minutes before opening. We just managed to beat the scrum that filled up the bar. Upstairs the more salubrious restaurant area was also packed out.

It's immediately apparent why. The floor staff are adept and efficient. The wine list placed carefully down by our French waitress is a well-thought out array of French Vin de Pays and classy New World drops. 

One downside is that the place has a touch of the 90s cocktail bar about it - dark walls, framed photographs and staff kitted out in black shirts.

It could do with some more old-fashioned charm to match the area - wood panels perhaps, or some original Georgian bits and bobs.

Anyway, the food arrived hot on the heels of the drinks. My wife opted for a thick fillet of sea bass, creamy tasting, white and rich in the way that this fish can be when properly cooked, with a crisp skin to slice into. 

It came with sautéed potatoes, fennel slices and beans, and a kick from a spoon of chilli sauce vierge and smokey pieces of chorizo.

The classic roast was immediately crowd-pleasing with chunks of beef from a Charolais fore rib piled high on the plate, topped off with a puffy Yorkshire pudding.

Slices of celeriac were soft and sweet-savoury. Gravy was well-flavoured from the meat juices and veg cooked along with the beef.

Then we cut through to the downside: potatoes, so vital for any good roast, were pre-cooked so soft on the inside and out, without the delicious, fluffy crunch you expect. Chunks of broccoli next to the spuds were almost raw.

Two classics for pudding raised the mood. Proper chunks of rhubarb in a crumble had proper bite and presence and was suitably sour as well as sweet. There was a fine, crumbly texture to the topping.

Sticky toffee pudding had a rich, datey-flavour and pulled off the double act of crumbly and sticky as it should. Vanilla ice cream on the side was hard to judge as my six-year-old daughter ate most of it.