Clarke's is a bastion of elegance against the bling

Given the BBC's abundant foodie programming, you'd be forgiving for thinking that every top-ranked fine dining establishment in London is run by a TV celebrity. Fact is, there are plenty of places perennially on the top restaurant lists with people who just ... shock! ... cook.

Exhibit A: Sally Clarke and her eponymous restaurant on Kensington Church Street.

I'd never heard of her, or of Clarke's, before meeting friends there for dinner last night. Which is probably something I should be embarrassed to admit, because Clarke has been cooking for the great and the good in this oh-so-posh part of London for more than 30 years. It was artist Lucian Freud's favourite restaurant and his art hangs on the walls; his colleague David Hockney was hosting some friends at the table next to us. Our other fellow diners were exquisitely-dressed, mature types who probably ran FTSE 500 companies before downshifting to manage their investment portfolios. And yet, this isn't a flashy place. None of the stomach-churning show offs that so tarnished our dinner at Zuma earlier this year. Clarke's has the feel of an elegant, quiet neighbourhood bistro. Albeit one with museum-quality art on the walls and seasonal white truffles (£1,500 a kilo) on display under a glass dome near the front door.

Clarke shocked the London dining scene, and made her reputation, back when I was a student tourist who could only afford burger vans and cheap chippies. She had the audacity to only offer a set menu. Eat was she was cooking, or go home. She was also an early proponent of the whole seasonal, farm-to-table concept we now take for granted. It was properly revolutionary in the '80s.

These days Clarke has expanded to a more traditional menu with multiple offerings, but she's still
front of house at the start of service welcoming diners and explaining the specials. It's a nice touch, and delightful to see someone who's still so enthusiastic about her restaurant 30 years after getting started.

For a place that started out resolutely British, the current menu is heavily Italian in flavour. It's peppered with words like porcini, radicchio tardivo and bresaola. The maitre d' brings around those fresh, seasonal truffles to give you a sniff, and provides a beguiling description of how they'd adorn scrambled eggs as a starter. Honestly, £60 a serving is a bit rich for my blood, though I suspect many of the locals would take that in their stride.

I opted to start with the burrata with fresh figs. This is a classic and simple salad, entirely dependant on the quality of its ingredients. Clearly, after three decades in business Sally has her suppliers sorted; this was as good as any version you'd have in a Southern Italian farm kitchen.

It's rare that I'm so torn on my decision for the main course. Sicilian tuna with bergamot and ginger, herbed fregola and baked Florence fennel sounded magnificent, but once my favourite fruit ... fig ... had wormed its way into my head, I decided to continue it through my night. Thus it was duck breast with baked purple figs and sage, accompanied by baked pumpkin, beetroots and carrot that appeared before me. It was delicious, but fairly standard duck breast I'd expect in any fine restaurant. I suspect I should have gone with the fish.

Four of us shared two desserts: apple, prune and bitter almond crumble with cinnamon ice cream, and baked quince in a vanilla pancake with ice cream. I far preferred the latter. The crumble was so sharp it only really worked alongside a sweet dessert wine (fortunately, I was drinking one) and the cinnamon in the ice cream was so subtle I didn't realise it was supposed to be in there until I referred to the menu after getting home. The quince, however, did an excellent job of shaking up a traditional dessert with the introduction of an under-used flavour.

Clarke's ticks plenty of London's fine dining boxes. Exquisite ingredients, sourced responsibly. Beautiful presentation. Sophisticated wine list. (My hostess selected, but the Champagne and Chablis we drank ... followed by a short but interesting list of digestifs ... indicated a fine sommelier.) Attentive staff, including the chef patron. Elegant dining room. The quiet, intimate atmosphere is perfect for a romantic evening or a catch-up with friends, but carries this off without feeling stuffy or formal.

There's a down-side, however. Clarke's is priced to match its neighbourhood. You'll need £50 just to cover your three basic courses, and that's before you add any drinks or side dishes. And I'm not sure it was exceptional enough to merit £80 or £100 per person. You can find similar food for less. But not in this neighbourhood. The last meal we had in this part of town was about the same price, and deeply average. I would have been delighted to nip around the corner to let Sally take care of us.

Increasingly the province of super-rich, showy foreigners, today's Kensington and Knightsbridge seems too often to be a triumph of conspicuous consumption over good taste. Clarke's seems to have hung on to the best of the traditional aspects of this neighbourhood. It's good to know that if I ever win a mega lottery and join the billionaire club, Sally Clarke will probably still be there, providing a local bistro that's a refuge of quality and understated elegance amongst the bling.