In just about any sphere of human endeavour the hardest thing to be is innovative. Trying to do something new, something untried, takes courage and sometimes can be seen by others as suicidally insane. It's especially true of restaurants, since we the punters tend to have fixed tastes in food and are rarely willing to go for something beyond the scope of our normal fare. In short, sticking your head above the parapet invites brickbats as surely as an Aunt Sally in a fairground.

Left to my own devices I'm the same as everyone else: there are dishes that I enjoy and would eat frequently, since by now my likes and dislikes are well-formed. None the less when I'm in a restaurant I'm prepared to try things that I know I'd never make at home. But that's my point; when you eat something you've never had before, you approach it with your critical faculties on full alert, rather than simply slumping contentedly in front of a plateful of your favourite food. I'm not by nature a fan of hotel restaurants, and I suspect I'm not unique in this. Trumans Restaurant is a part of Buswell's Hotel but it has gone to some trouble to establish an identity of its own, presumably because my prejudice is common. I'll have to admit that my visit to Trumans made me address a number of my pre-conceived ideas and re-evaluate them. The first thing was the menu displayed outside the door. I'd looked at it idly while passing by a couple of weeks before and had decided it had the fingerprints of pretension all over it. Menus that describe food in long, fussy phrases peppered with French thingies like pave, galette, boudin, grenadin, tian and nage have a bad effect on me.

I got over that one and decided to go anyway. On the night the a la carte menu had gone and there was only a table d'hote at £24.50 on display. My immediate reaction was predictable enough: it looked pricey. In retrospect I have to admit that I was wrong on both counts.

There are as many ways to price a menu as there are ways to skin a cat. There is the Trumans way, which is to put a price on a meal which is what you pay at the end of the night. There are others that are less clear; the dishes on the menu are priced, but you somehow forget to mentally add in the cover charge, maybe the bread will be extra and so will the coffee and there's frequently an obligatory 10% service charge which will obviously apply to every little item. All of which will often bring the price of the meal close to £30 just for the food without even trying.

But back to the night in question. Already uncertain that this was where I wanted to be, I accompanied my guest through the doors where we found ourselves in front of a coal-effect gas fire, surveying a long room. We were early, but the waiters were already occupied with a large table that had all the hallmarks of a rowdy Christmas party. We stood and waited. Then we waited a bit more. Then a bit more. I was just about to say 'the gods have sent us their portents, we should leave now' when we were eventually greeted and shown to the table right next to where we'd been standing.

I learnt years ago that the enjoyment of a night in a restaurant has much to do with your initial state of mind. People who arrive in filthy moods rarely enjoy their food or the company they're in. I was starting this meal a little grumpily and was ready to find fault with just about anything. But if there is a single phrase to describe Trumans it's this: they try very hard. They've set themselves high standards and they want to be taken seriously as a restaurant. There is something comfortingly classical about the interior of the dining room. The tables are large and set with linen and the chairs are big, upholstered and comfortable. The cutlery is heavy and pleasing to hold, there are chunky pewter cruets on the table. Not everyone will love the combination of blue carpet and yellow walls, but it didn't offend me. There are reproduction paintings on the walls, and it took a while before I realised that the ones I could see - a couple of Vermeers and a Goya - were all from the Beit collection. Either this is an homage to the fact that the building used to be an art gallery, or it's because the National Gallery isn't too far away.

The wine list is the size and weight of a Victorian family bible; thick and heavily bound. It's extensive and covers all categories. It had no bargains that I could find, but it was fairly priced. The waiter who served us had obviously taken the trouble to learn about the wines on the list, which is something I'd dearly like to see more of in restaurants. The wine I wanted was temporarily out of stock but he steered me to the Italian Ramitello Riserva 1992, which is a wine I knew nothing of. It turned out to be a good choice and I'll drink it again when next I see it.

The menu was a set dinner of four courses with plenty to choose from. My guest chose as a starter the scallops with celeriac puree and asparagus, while I chose the forest mushrooms en croute. We could have been more daring; poached fillet of lamb with fruit chutney was also on offer. We followed this with a sorbet each, and for main courses my guest chose char-grilled fillet of beef and I went on the game - the food that is - roast teal and quail in their own jus. We followed this by sharing a pear tart, since we were both far too replete to have a dessert each.

I won't describe the food in detail, but every part of this meal won me over from being a disgruntled grouch to a delighted diner, no mean feat. As I said earlier, different restaurants demand different critical criteria, and this one is aiming high - consequently one is more inclined to carp. There is a strong sense in Trumans that they want to please and innovate simultaneously which is about as hard a task as you could set yourself. My guest that night, a lady who by the nature of her work travels the globe a lot, was similarly impressed by the meal.

Did I have quibbles? Just the one. I've never been mad about music when I'm eating, but when the continuous tape gave us 'Also Sprach Zarathustra' and 'Carmina Burana' for the fifth time I knew it was time to go.