Mightily impressive Italian food and the model for restaurant chains

I desperately wanted to hate Jamies. Really I did. Chains are neutering the restaurant business just as they have done every other enterprise on the High Street and this was the perfect chance to put the boot in. Perfect chance too: the first official night of service, in fact our waitress had served only one table before us in her entire Jamies career. She didn't have a hope. The floppy-tongued Mockney really had it coming this time.

Then the food started to arrive. Frowns dissolved into smiles. Smiles of pleasure. Then astonishment. You might well think you've seen through Jamie's TV performance, all that blather about passion and pukka ingredients, but he's got a point. When you've got your hands on cured meats, cheeses and oils of the quality on spectacular display in the middle of the restaurant you don't need to do much more than slice them and bring them to the table. Which is pretty much what they do for the starters. I defy anyone to find a softer and richer flavoured mozzarella than you'll find on the mixed platter, and the meats would have melted in the mouth of even the iciest, most begrudging of critical reviewers. Forget everything you know about olives too - these mamas have more complexity than all the wines you'll find in Tesco put together.

And from there it was all uphill. Dammit. You might think you can make a linguine alla vongole at home, but now try making every single strand of pasta taste of rich clams and herbs. That really takes some talent, and it was followed up with the freshest, zesty, berry tiramisu you will ever taste. Jamies truly does restore the notion that a restaurant should offer food you simply don't have the skill to make at home, no matter how many stupid cookery shows you've wasted your pathetic little life watching.

But there's more to the formula than just stunning food. Jamie's trick is to wear authenticity lightly on his sleeve. There's no Italian street music in the background (in fact the staff have picked the playlist between them), no fake trattoria lingo on the windows either. What he does have is a crack band of exceedingly well-trained serving staff, talented chefs working bloody hard, and also a secret weapon: out front for week one is a certain Gennaro Contaldo who taught young James most of his best Italian tricks. And having Gennaro there not just to keep the quality high but also to press the flesh transformed what might have been a faceless franchise into something approximating a homely Italian experience. But there's the rub; what will happen when cheeky Gennaro packs his bags, slings his Armani jacket of his shoulder and heads off for the next Jamies opening? Will we still feel like welcome guests or fodder for the corporate machine? Either way, I suspect if you want to taste some stonking Italian food there won't be many better places to go.