Arbutus stands head and shoulders above its Soho neighbours

Elegant", "sophisticated" and "classy" are not words I generally associate with Soho. It's convenient, given its central location and abundance places to eat and drink, but there always seems to be a bit of the tawdry here. From the unsightly graffiti and ragged gardens of Soho Square to the in-your-face sex shops to the packs of drunken 20-somethings wandering the streets of an evening, Soho has never enchanted me.

It's a hard place to avoid, however, given the convenience factor for meeting up with friends. Add to that the fact that it's a traditional haunt of the creative industries, and you'll understand why I seem to end up here a lot.

Last week there was coffee at the Soho Hotel, a ridiculously trendy, modern boutique hotel tucked down a mews road. The giant cat sculpture at reception always makes me giggle as I imagine the outrageously camp designer explaining the zen mood it would cast over the lobby. Earlier that day I was at Soho House, a private members club that does a brisk business in venue hire. I found their sixth-floor roof terrace to be an interesting place for a seminar, though the hike (no lifts) was a bit bracing for first thing in the morning. I liked the venue better when I was taken to lunch on its first floor many years ago, when it was a good deal more exclusive than it is now. Kettners, famed for being one of the oldest restaurants in London, has deeply average food but a champagne bar with lots of comfortable nooks and crannies. A decent meeting spot to start an evening, but at £9 and up for a glass of something, you're paying a premium for those comfy couches.

At the Soho Theatre I recently helped out some friends filming "voxpop" interviews about technology usage for a new client. A coldly industrial yet functional venue; clearly the place for arcane foreign films. Bar Italia was once the only place in London to get a real cappuccino. But today with Caffe Nero and Costa both doing a fine job, the frenetic atmosphere and jostling crowds make the original spot less attractive. A recent evening at The Red Fort taught me that I can eat Indian without blowing my diet, thanks to an upmarket menu that's all about meat and fish done in delicate spices with few sauces. Though given how peckish I remained despite my £50 contribution to the group bill, not someplace I'm rushing to return.

That's Soho in a nutshell: some impressive bits laid on top of faded glories, all calculated to extract just that little bit more cash out of you than it's really worth paying. A land of luvvies and show-offs, its attractions are the empty calories of London. They satisfy you at the time, but afterward you wonder why you wasted your time ... and money. All of which magnifies my delight when dining in a Soho-based eatery that has a dignified yet unpretentious setting, properly helpful staff and truly excellent food.

I tried Arbutus early this year and, though it was a delightful outing, it didn't make the blog because we had the quick and simple pre-theatre menu. (For tales of the performance of Turandot that followed, see 24.01.09.) It did make my own personal "must return" list due to a combination of distinct flavours, attentive service and a deeply intriguing wine list. Our waiter had recommended a bottle from the Balearic Islands ... not something you see much ... and we were stunned by the mellow, fruity richness of this very modestly priced selection.

The memory of that wine was driving our fantasies as we sat down at the table. So imagine our horror at the discovery that the list had changed and it was no longer featured. Turns out the Balearic origin was so odd they couldn't move enough bottles to keep it on the list. The manager saved the day by recommending a quirky, modern little Tuscan morellino, thus averting crisis and turning our attention to the main event.

The menu at Arbutus is modern European, with some interesting twists. It's the kind of place you might find tripe, or rabbit, or exotic vegetables of which you've never heard. Fear not, there are plenty of more traditional options, but these tend to be prepared and presented in innovative ways. My starter of ricotta gnocchi, for example, was more of a dumpling: perfect little balls of fresh cheese encased in a layer of gnocchi dough like ganache inside a truffle, served with a salad of sharp and slightly bitter leaves that contrasted perfectly with the richness of their companions. I moved on to bouillabaisse, and have never seen it presented so well. This was an upscale, elegant version of the old peasant favourite, served in a procession of gleaming copper pans. One held grilled fish and vegetables, another the soup base, and a third two types of rouille, one pink and one white, poured to settle side by side like a culinary yin and yang. Next to this, the requisite croutons. In addition to being great fun, this presentation allowed me to really savour the flavour of the fish, which would have been lost had it bubbled away in the rich, pungent broth. Perhaps not quite as atmospheric as eating it out of a single big bowl beside a harbour in Cassis (my best-ever boullabaisse experience), but it tasted a great deal better.

Samples from my friends' plates allow me to tell you that the spring vegetable risotto was pretty well perfect, managing to maintain the individual flavours and crispness of the greens while getting the rice al dente, and the bavette of beef was just as good as the noble fillet at Boisedale. (See 29.03.09.) The waitress was cheerfully compliant when we ordered one dessert with three spoons, avoiding the snide looks that so often used to come with requests for sharing, tap water or take aways. Sharing thus allowing us all to get a bit of the mango panna cotta without feeling like we were being too profligate. True to Arbutus' form to that point, the dish managed to meld its ingredients while keeping its flavours distinct, giving us the tart pop of the mango in delicious contrast to the mellow richness of the cream.

Unlike the pre-theatre menu, Arbutus in prime time is not easy on the purse. Our bill toted up to £55 per person for two courses and the shared sweet. Oh, and the wine. So delicious that we had to have a second. It was just as good as the Balearic, but at £30 a bottle not such a great deal. Still, with this quality of food and service I have to call it all a fine value for the money. Other Soho spots may offer proverbial "empty calories", but here they're full, rich and good to the last fork.