Fakhreldine is one of the more disappointing Middle Eastern restaurants that Mr S and I have visited on our eponymous tour we’ve made around the capital so far. The location is pretty cool, I have to admit, being situated on a first floor overlooking Green Park and has an excellent view, if you get a seat next to the window. The food and atmosphere are a different matter, though.

The floor space is split into restaurant tables and a substantial bar area, but even at 7.30pm on a Friday night, the whole place was almost empty, bar a young middle-Eastern looking crowd at the bar and a couple of occupied tables. The decor is definitely more chic bar than Lebanese restaurant and whilst it’s not entirely devoid of the typical accoutrements of rose petals and large, golden ornaments, it certainly stays of the right side of tasteful.

Something I’ve yet to work out with Lebanese restaurants is why they serve up a plate full of vegetables at the same time as the bread. I’ve never ever really seen anyone tuck into them (bar myself), so I don’t understand what the point of them is. 

We started with a Kibbe Mekliyeh (lamb meatballs made with cracked wheat and stuffed with pine nuts & onions) and a hoummos. The meatballs weren’t bad, but were quite plain  in taste and the hoummos was good, although you don’t expect any middle eastern restaurant to serve anything other than good hoummos.

The main courses followed right on the heels of the starters, as in our starter plates had barely been removed before the mains were upon us. However, this could have been due to the fact that Mr S was in a particularly disruptive mood and had decided to throw some of the complimentary olives at my head before the starters had arrived. I’d certainly try and 

speed up the time I’d want diners like that to spend in my restaurant, if I had one, so the alacrity of the mains was perhaps not altogether surprising, although not as surprising as the fact that Mr S was still in his seat and hadn’t been helped out of the first floor window already.

Mr S had gone for the Lamb Kofte, which was cooked perfectly well, but again lacked anything to make it special, which at £16 for the dish, I’d expect something extra. The five-spice shoulder of lamb which I’d ordered must have gone walkabout in the kitchen and avoided the condiment section as I could barely taste one spice, let alone five.

I thought I’d persevere with dessert and ordered some pastries, which I did enjoy and went well with the recommended glass of Fonseca port.

Overall, I thought the food was definitely overpriced and although competently cooked, lacked anything special in the taste department. The atmosphere felt a bit like the start of a school disco although the service I’d have to commend, having to deal with a mischief maker on the other side of the table. Having said that, the most amusing point of the evening came when we left and Mr S accidentally went to walk straight into the kitchen instead of down the stairs to the exit. The Maitre’D plus a waitress stopped him, but their smiles dropped instantly when, in his serious Dr’s manner, he told them he was there to inspect the kitchen. I think my laughing gave the game away and we made a swift departure after that, just in case the cooks were more competent with their cleavers than with the spice rack.