Cowes: a winter evening. Commuters scurry home through the drizzle. An impossibly well-dressed young man with a suitcase stands on a street-corner, bleating into his phone.

Matt and Cat are accosted by this youth, who is gibbering pitifully. "Are you from Isle of Wight?" he beseeches. On confirmation, he eagerly explains his plight. Pater has come to meet him at the ferry. In the car. But Pater has gone to East Cowes of all places. Junior thus finds himself on the wrong side of the river and is at a loss. Neither he nor Pater has ever had to deal with such a crisis. They are mortified. The phone squawks in impatience as he discourses. He breaks off regularly to mollify it: Pater is not accustomed to being kept waiting. With a great deal of careful explanation, the filial rendezvous is arranged via the chain ferry and eventually a grateful Junior strides off hopefully, his woollen scarf flapping in the wind. M & C, entertained by this distraction, find themselves standing outside Mojac's Restaurant on Shooter's Hill. So, in they go.

Review continues:

Mojac's is an intimate venue, presenting a tiny frontage on the historic street, and only slightly larger inside. Matt and Cat took the prime window seat to facilitate the enjoyable pastime of sitting in the warm and dry watching pedestrians being blown past in gusts of wind and rain.

A waitress brought some menus across and your reviewers had a look. This took a bit of looking, as not only was there a 'light bites menu', but also the 'set price menu' and the 'a la carte menu'. Beyond that there was even a range of specials on the wall. The menu, though maybe a bit overwhelming for the hard of thinking, was full of enticing stuff. The diners were much encouraged and Matt even optimistically murmured 'I have a good feeling about this...'. Still, it wasn't hard to choose as it turned out.

Matt went for a starter that had his name written all over it: black pudding and bacon salad topped with a soft poached egg and a Dijon mustard dressing. He followed it with a choice from the specials: extra matured British rib-eye steak topped with scampi and shallots in a garlic and parsley butter. Cat was similarly certain when she eschewed a starter and chose pan-fried British fillet steak with a mushroom and sliced olive beef sauce.

The waitress wandered off and, as M & C waited the little restaurant gradually began to fill up with punters. Quite a good sign, they thought. One bunch of young people - dressed suspiciously like Junior from earlier in the evening - livened the place up considerably with their jolly conversation and lavish patronage of the wine list. "Did you hear about Hugo?" gurgled one red-faced young blonde. "He's stuck on a yacht in Sydney because his Dad's worried about the the SFO!" Much sniggering followed. Sometimes you don't even need to form prejudices: they just confirm themselves.

Matt's starter arrived, looking highly presentable. Some excellent home-made warm rolls came too. The poached egg wobbled perfectly, and, on being broken, proved to be an exquisite example of that very particular art. Fresh green shoots garnished the top, along with a nonchalant dusting of cracked black pepper. Matt was in raptures, and dug down with great pleasure into the bacon and black pudding underneath, passing a few morsels for Cat to pick at. His enjoyment came to an abrupt halt when he got to the salad at the bottom of the pile. The ends of the lettuce were old and browning - rarely has such a grand ship been spoilt for so measly a ha'p'orth of tar. Still, the rest was so good it was almost forgiveable.

Main courses followed on, and Cat got to eat from her own plate at last. Matt expansively ordered a glass of the house red to go with his steak, which proved to be a good accompaniment to the rich and tasty beef. This meat was flagged as British, but any more detail of its provenance was not offered. Another item on the menu included 'English chicken': getting warmer. Mojac's exhibits on its menu some kind of 'local produce' badge, but other than this there was little sign of anything from the Island. Still, it didn't affect the taste, and this was excellent, although there was no hint of the promised garlic in the buttery sauce. Vegetables came alongside, at no extra charge - that met with approval of course - and were present in reasonable quantity. Cat's fillet steak was smothered with an unusual, rich olive sauce that was just on the right side of overwhelming the delicate meat. It takes courage to cover fillet with anything, but in this instance it was a gamble that paid off.

Unexpectedly, and perhaps in sympathy with Matt's earlier salad, the vegetables were less satisfactory. Cat had a stalk of broccoli that was distinctly yellowing on one end - normally a cue to introduce any such offending stalk to the recycling bin before it gets anywhere near a pan; let alone a paying customer. The spuds, which appeared to be delightful sautéed new potatoes, actually tasted a lot like they had been reheated at least once, with that tell-tale yellowing of the interior that denotes a roasted potato re-appearance. Surprising lapses which, once again, were wholly at odds with the impressive main items.

Still, undeterred, M & C asked for the dessert menu, and chose to share a vanilla panna cotta with an apple and prune butterscotch compote. This turned up soon enough, along with some coffee, and proved to be a most satisfactory ending to the meal.

The bill - individually printed and rather worryingly headed 'Invoice' - was £54.90 excluding service. As the meal only included mains plus a single glass of wine, one starter and one dessert; this was on the upper end of the scale. Had the attention to detail in the kitchen been a fraction tighter, this would have been money well spent. As it was, what started out looking like one of the best meals out M & C have ever had in Cowes can only just scrape by as 'good enough'.

Visit the website: http://www.mojacs.co.uk