If you ask what's the best red wine in the world you could end up listening to a lot of differing views for quite a while. If you ask what's the most expensive red wine in the world there's an easy answer - Chateau Petrus. It's a small chateau in the Pomerol that makes consistently wonderful wine, and it's also the name of Gordon Ramsey's other restaurant in London. Petrus, that is, not the chateau bit.

Six of us arrived in Ramsey's Petrus one warm July evening to find Gordon waiting for us with a bottle of bubbly. We'd met him over the new year and he'd been insistent that we come to his restaurant, and finally we were there - Chris, Diane, Susie, Rachael, Dave and me. We found him in a state of some excitement, having just got rid of the last of a bunch of journalists who had heard about the events of the previous night, when six men (plus two non-drinkers) had spent £44,007 on dinner. Well, to be exact, not on dinner, but rather on drinks. The men, bankers I believe, had bought the window-dressing on Gordon's wine list - a modest Montrachet 1982 to start with at £1,400 and then on to the eponymous Chateau Petrus. A 1945, a 1946 and a 1947. They finished with a dessert wine, a Chateau d'Yquem 1900. These wines, plus some mineral water, a few glasses of champagne and a packet of fags came to £44,000. Two bottles of Kronenbourg 1664 made up the odd £7. Given that this drinks bill (at £7,334 a head) outstrips the most expensive meal in the Guinness Book of Records by nearly £3,000 a head, it's no surprise that the press had taken an interest. Gordon's only comment to us was 'with a drinks bill that size, I felt I had to comp the meal', which is why the cost of their dinner doesn't figure on the bill.

So with the finest wines on his list now out of stock, we had to confine ourselves to a more economical Condrieu from the Rhone, before setting about the menu. Dave was still studying the wine list. 'Amazing, amazing. The Chateau Weems 1900 is £9,200.' 'Chateau what?' said five people in unison. 'Uh… Weems?' said Dave, with less certainty. 'You mean d'Yquem?' 'Oh, is that how you pronounce it.'

There are two menus available, the standard dinner menu where £50 buys you three courses, or the six-course tasting menu which costs £60. The dinner menu has eight starters and eight main courses of which I'll list a few; a salad of pan-fried sweetbreads; a mosaique of quail, foie gras and duck confit; lobster ravioli with sauteed langoustines; a fricasse of frogs' legs, ceps and spinach with a veloutee of Jerusalem artichokes… see what I mean? I could fill the page just with listing the menu. Here's a few main courses; pan-fried John Dory with white beans and thyme; fillet of turbot with a brandade of salt cod; braised brill with an oyster raviolo and white asparagus; braised belly of pork with a truffle pomme mousseline, and a Bresse pigeon served with fennel hearts, creamed cabbage and ceps, sauteed gnocchi and Madeira truffle sauce. Phew! Hard to know where to begin with a choice like that.

None of us could make much by way of a decision, so when Gordon arrived in his whites and suggested that he put together a tasting menu for us, we accepted with alacrity. We started with a chilled gazpacho made with fresh, sweet tomatoes that had a real clarity of flavour. Next came a fillet of John Dory with the veloutee of white beans, then a fillet of sea-bass with sauteed artichokes and asparagus. Both of these fish courses were perfect - perfect in flavour, cooking and presentation.

But before I go back to the meal let me describe the room. It's a high-ceilinged room, much longer than it is wide, with large, impressive still-lifes by Paul Karslake adorning the walls. We were sat at the very back of the restaurant, which despite it's size has only a dozen or so tables. There's a lot of room between the tables, and about thirty people to serve each one. All right, that's an exaggeration, but the service is immaculate. You find yourself doing unimaginably naff things like looking under your plate, to see who made this beautiful silvered thing. Glassware and silverware that feel heavy and expensive match the crockery, the whole thing having a feel of understated class.

But back to the main event: next a favourite of mine; pan-fried foie gras served with a braised chicory and Sauternes veloute. Could that have been the last of the 1900 Weems, we wondered? Then the Bresse pigeon, cooked rarer than I'd have dared done, but exquisite. I may have to alter my cooking times. Then a selection of French cheeses from a trolley that must have held fifty or more. The waiters solved this by giving each of us three different cheeses, which we then circulated. A small pause, and then a selection of desserts; pineapple granite with a coconut tuile and a chocolate souffle with a raspberry sauce and chocolate macaroons.

This was by any standards a remarkable meal, prepared with skill, thoroughness and care. Not cheap, especially when you calculate the sterling difference, but truly delightful. Gordon Ramsey is one of Britain's better-known celebrity chefs, and on the evidence of this meal it's a well-earned accolade. What surprised me most, though, was that within a week of this I'd eaten two meals in Dublin that were almost on a par, but that's still to come. Maybe one of the benefits of eating in restaurants like Petrus is that it gives you a measure against which you can rate restaurants over here. What is clear to me, is that this country is no longer Europe's poor relation when it comes to gastronomy - a contention that's supported by the growing number of Michelin stars.