Best of the brunch?

Is the ideal brunch in this country actually an urban myth? Gastronomically untaxing, it should be not so much a meal as a post-Saturday night recovery programme for sophisticated slobs, party-goers and wannabe New Yorkers, or tourists pretending to be all or some of these. It consists of undiluted, restorative amounts of protein and cholesterol and stiff drinks for shaky hands to hold - what's a Bloody Mary other than an excuse to drink spirits for breakfast? And it's the only time reading a paper in a restaurant isn't unforgivably anti-social.

Unlike lunch or dinner, the menu defines the meal. We all know exactly what is meant by brunch: if it doesn't include a Bloody Mary or Buck's Fizz, eggs Benedict or smoked salmon and bagels it has no claim to the name. It should be absolutely predictable in its composition, so the menu can be written in the chef's sleep and you can order it in yours.

Which is all fine and dandy if you get out of bed around noon on a Sunday, but poses considerable problems if you've made the mistake of rising early after a sober Saturday night at home. No hangover, no excuse for vodka disguised by tomato juice, no indiscriminate appetite, no call for gratuitous calories. Is general sobriety the reason why so few places in London really know how to give good brunch?

The choice of venue divides into erstaz American joints, most of which confirm our worst prejudices about American food. (Anywhere here on a par with New York's best is unlikely to advertise itself as American.) The alternative is the hotel brunch for an all-in price. The Waldorf hotel has a monster help-yourself brunch in its Palm Court, with live jazz and everything from muffins to roasts perspiring under silver domes, and with limitless champagne for pounds 35.

For the purity of its brunch menu, and the curiosity aroused by its "relaunch", we chose Christopher's in Covent Garden, one of London's more upmarket American restaurants. Diary column mentions and a reopening party notwithstanding, the only obvious change is that the restaurant has been extended to what was the bar on the ground floor of this splendid, Italianate Victorian building. Its sleazy past as a bordello and casino long precedes its present loose association with Tory politicians. The bar has been moved into the basement and renamed the Speakeasy.

Brunch takes place upstairs (an imposing stone flight, reverberating with opera) in the original dining room, which has been done out with a mock-flock paint effect, a large tapestry and heavy drapes; a decorative double bluff, ironically faking grandeur but nonetheless pretentious. During the week, I imagine customers are would-be grandees and business types who like a combination of pomp and unfussy, East-coast-style food - the menu now includes whole sections devoted to lobster and steaks (American and Scottish) - and don't mind paying around pounds 30 a head. Sunday seems to attract Japanese and American tourists and a few self-conscious natives. No one was reading the papers in a relaxed, l've-just-got-out-of-bed-and- don't-feel-like-talking way. No one was reading the papers at all.

If we had been, we might not have noticed the time it took for our order to arrive, though we disposed of a basket of bread - raisin, sun-dried tomato and onion - so fast we had to ask for more and downed exemplary versions of the requisite drinks. Thereafter, we could not avoid the ovoid. Some places offer lunch-like alternatives as an escape route; here, the menu is thoroughly egg-bound. Almost all choices consist of them - scrambled or a Spanish omelette; come with them - steak with ham, steak with red flannel hash or salmon hash with poached; or, in the case of eggs Benedict, the sine qua non of brunch (two poached, on half a muffin, with ham in between and hollandaise on top) is made up of egg on egg plus meat and white bread.

Brunch must be a meal sponsored by the society of colonic irrigators. All right, you can have muesli, but who gets out of bed for muesli, let alone leaves the house and pay pounds 3.50 for it. And the compote of dried fruits that would have done the job was pounds 4.

Like the overpoached eggs Benedict, the cowboy roll could do to the cowboy's heart what Marlboro did for his lungs. A burger bun, buttered and grilled to fried bread effect came with a fried egg with frilly edges, spicy beans like souped-up Heinz, and bacon. In a token attempt to eat green vegetables, we ordered a Caesar salad. Correctly made with damp leaves, shaved parmesan, optional anchovies, more egg (raw, this time) and three large croutons, it was not however, antidote enough to the egginess of everything else.

We skipped desserts and paid pounds 13 each, which makes it a cheap way to eat out, if not everything it's cracked up to be

Christopher's, 18 Wellington Street, London WC2 (0171-240 4222) Brunch Sat and Sun noon-3pm. Average pounds 15. All major credit cards accepted

Rest of the brunch

Bank, 1 Kingsway, London WC2 (0171-379 9797). Brunch Sun 11.30am-3.30pm. Save for eggs Benedict, all the essentials are here, and more. Wok-fried lobster (pounds 12.50), roast chicken with bread sauce (pounds 9.95) and poached salmon. There's a predictable children's menu with the faves done well.

Butlers Wharf Chop House Shad Thames, London SE1 (0171-403 3403). Brunch Sat and Sun noon-3pm. Brunch is served in the bar at the weekend. Two courses are pounds 13.95, three pounds 16.25 including an appropriate drink. Smoked haddock fishcake, corned beef hash with fried eggs, smoked salmon - with lemon and lime pie or toffee pudding for afters. The riverside setting is an excellent tonic.

Coast 26B Albemarle Street, London W1 (0171-495 5999) Brunch Sun noon- 3.30pm. Chillingly cool, Sixties-futurist venue. The eggs Benedict and French toast crew are here, but you can have more imaginative dishes such as grilled squid with tomato and sweet potato salsa. It'll cost, mind. pounds 20-plus a head.

Montana 125-129 Dawes Road, London SW6 (0171-385 9500). Brunch Sat and Sun noon-3.30pm. Fairly conventional brunch selection given some

hot twists. Jalapeno peppers make it into the South-west breakfast (pounds 6.50), as do roast tomatoes and toasted chilli bread