Punters are notoriously difficult to please.

Some won't eat foreign food, have banned salt from their diets, won't eat carbs or proteins, or will only eat carbs and proteins.

Some want seasonal while others want lemongrass all year round. Some want to burn their tongues off with spices while others think a korma is pushing the boat out. Some have a sweet tooth that would hospitalise mere mortals while others believe dessert is a sin.

Some want to pile their plates high, while others believe less is more and quantity doesn't mean quality.

Some think a kebab is a meal while others think eating cooked food is cruel. Marmite says it all. If I was a chef I'd run to the hills.

The Jam Factory in Park End Street has rewritten the rules, making things as simple as possible and creating an oasis of calm in the middle of Oxford.

DOESN'T IT LOOK DRAB?

The roughly written boards on the pavement outside make you imagine a dark, grungy student hang-out playing full-on techno music, but instead you are greeted by a sweet courtyard and then The Jam Factory itself, an airy, Scandinavian, white-washed interior that has the same effect as Prozac as soon as you walk in the door.

In fact, you're almost horizontal by the time you leave. Choose your space from the comfy sofas and chairs, the modern retro tables or the bar area. We opted for the main restaurant area and studied the wonderful menu and stacked specials board with delight.

WHAT DID YOU CHOOSE?

The food matches the atmosphere - light and refreshing. We ordered the Cotswold pate and potato wedges with chilli mayo, followed by chorizo and nicoise salads accompanied by beer and sparkling water.

A charming French waiter with a sexy accent made sure we had everything we needed. The paté was set out on an artist's palette with butter and toasted bread and was lovely, except the chutney looked and tasted remarkably like Branston's rather than the home-made relish promised.

The wedges were a mistake - enormous and quite hard, with a chilli mayo. My eyes streamed for Britain.

But the salads were delicious, although my companion noted her niçoise wasn't terribly authentic, the traditional French beans and olives being replaced with sliced peppers and red onion, so that it had a distinctive South American feel. The chorizo salad was excellent.

Although we were stuffed, we chose the lavender brulée just because it sounded so good. However good it was in texture and creaminess, not a whiff of lavender had been anywhere near it - we narrowed the flavour down to white chocolate.

The waiter apologised, adding that the chef was very French and had a lot of trouble understanding the English. But he knocked the price of the coffees off the bill to make up.

VERDICT: They could have served me lentil burgers and I wouldn't have cared, having fallen so deeply under the Jam Factory's spell. It's like culinary therapy!