Does Bond eat? Presumably, but not that you'd know. Drink? Yes - martinis by the bucket, Champagne by the magnum. But food? No. Why not? Who knows?

Maybe it's not considered manly enough, maybe it's hard to get out your Walter PPK when you're chowing down on some extra succulent spare ribs. Maybe he's a vegetarian and can't be seen dining out on spicy falafel with an aubergine dip or maybe he satiates his appetite in other ways...

Either way, it's left to our imagination. So a Bond-style restaurant review was challenging. We worked on what we had - ie where he would go - and there was only one contender - Malmaison.

In fact, so appropriate was the venue, I wouldn't be surprised if it was used in future Bond movies. After all, the jail is still intact, the lounge is all black leather and low lighting and the restaurant is underground.

It's crying out for a baddy to come along with his henchmen and trash the place. Malmaison even has a roof terrace for some good aerial shots, or helicopter getaways. It's all there for the taking.

What Bond would eat is another question. Red meat presumably - steak, rare, turned but not cooked and maybe some frites, but nothing as utilitarian as chips, and some sauce, barnaise perhaps.

For starters, scallops or maybe foie gras, which he would taste and then accurately pinpoint its origins: 'Ah yes, flown in from Loch Tay in Western Scotland at 0-8-hundred I believe', or: 'Imported from Perigord in Provence, where the geese are stuffed with a particular mix of home-made pasta made with pig-snuffled truffles.' You get the picture.

As for the wine, within one sip, Bond could locate the vintage, year and grape. Otherwise he wouldn't be Bond.

We did our best. Champagne, tick, martinis tick, which, by the way, may be swanky but you're basically drinking hard liquor - only Bond can get up after a couple of martinis and still walk in a straight line. I failed dismally. And after more than one, your taste buds go numb.

We couldn't afford the best wine as well - keeping up with Bond is an expensive business - so we made up for it by drinking double the quantity of house red.

But we persevered. And Malmaison came up with the goods. The scallops were battered which was a shame. But the house salad was superb, the game terrine manly and sizeable and the salt cod cleverly concocted.

Next up was a robust and rather unsuitably traditional canneloni served in an earthenware oven dish which scraped enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end. All very Bondesque.

The steak was wafer thin and enormous and the sea bass served on a potato rosti with spinach and sauce. Lots of protein and the portions were huge, too big for a Bond girl, even a pseudo one.

Dessert? No, he wouldn't would he. Cheese maybe, but we were too full, although the cheese trolley looked fantastic and perfect for a restaurant fight scene. As for coffee, something small and strong - an espresso then.

And while Bond would have sauntered off into the night to the local casino where he would have won back at least the price of the meal, we paid the £60 a head and went to a very sleazy nightclub full of very sleazy men and not a Bond lookalike in sight.

Well you can only dream.