After decades of derision, traditional English cuisine has begun to claw back its reputation in the last few years. Alas, Porters English Restaurant in Covent Garden doesn’t greatly help the cause.

The Venue
Value for money is central to Porters’ ethos, and if that isn’t enough to get the tourists flocking, the fact that its owner is a fully paid-up member of the English gentry should be. Richard Bridgeman, the 7th Earl of Bradford, opened his Henrietta Street restaurant in 1979, neatly tying in with Covent Garden’s rebirth from London’s principal fruit and vegetable market to tourist hot spot.

The decor of this two-storied venue appears to have changed little in the 30 years since. Stepping into Porters, with its wood panelling, Roman blinds and dull, dark green hues, is like stepping back to the early ‘80s; you almost expect braying yuppies swilling Bolly at the bar. This sense of deja vu isn’t helped by an overly-intrusive soundtrack seemingly stuck on an ‘80s anthems loop.

The Atmosphere
Notwithstanding the fact that the waiting staff aren’t dressed as Beefeaters, Porters could almost be an English themed restaurant, although this doesn’t seem to deter non-tourists. The eclectic clientele ranges from wind-tousled tourist parties to aggressively heterosexual geezer-boys shovelling steak into their mouths; from elderly ladies in pastel polyester enjoying a pre-theatre dinner to families of doggedly cheerful parents and sullen teenagers. The waiting staff are young and reasonably attentive, if a little nervous: the standard query of is everything okay is preceded by a drawn-out apology for having to ask.

The Food
A short but diverse range of starters, all around the £4 to £5 mark, includes herb breaded mushrooms with a Stilton and mayonnaise sauce and tomato and basil soup. The mushrooms are greasy and gritty and the addition of a lacklustre lettuce leaf only serves to give the dish an even more depressed air. The soup is fine: a generous portion of rich, dense broth with a robust basil punch.

Those channelling their inner Desperate Dan will appreciate the main menu. Porters specialises in pies and offers seven different varieties. While meat-eaters can get stuck into six of these, including steak and kidney, lamb and apricot and fisherman’s pie, those having a non-meat day (or life) are limited to a three bean pie. The trio of beans in question - kidney, haricot and cannellini – are combined with so-called spicy lentils, which are about as spicy as a night out in Cheam. They bubble in a tongue-scaldingly sinister way beneath a sweating duvet of puff pastry. It’s pure pub grub but hardly quintessentially English.

Apart from the pies, there’s a restrained selection of meaty mains (vegetarians really do need to go elsewhere for sustenance) including wild boar and sage sausages, beer battered cod and three different Scotch beef steaks. The dish of salmon fillet marinated in white wine and herbs and served with dill and lemon cream sauce is a succulent success. The salmon is moist and flaky, with the sauce enhancing its fragile flavour. Mains are £11 to £18 and come with one side order of vegetables or salad; however, as this includes potatoes, those wanting good old meat and two veg will need to order another side dish.

Puddings, all around £4, are of the nursery school variety and toothsomely sweet. The steamed syrup sponge is decently dense if a bit dry around the edges while the creme brulee is delicately eggy with a crunchy crust.

The Drink
There’s a wide selection of reasonably priced New World and European wines but, disappointingly, just one English wine, a pungent, medium dry white from a Devon vineyard. Beers drinkers fare better, with a selection sourced from the St Peter's Brewery in Suffolk. They include two CAMRA award-winning English ales and the aptly named Old Style Porter. Cider drinkers have to make do with Dry Blackthorn, but there’s a decent selection of cocktails for those in a flamboyant mood.

The Last Word
Porters prides itself on reasonably priced, fine English food of the sort that put the Great into Great Britain. But while the prices aren’t bad for its location, it needs to take a long, hard look at the quality of its food. Henry VIII would not have been satisfied.

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