Recently I had the pleasure of dining at the Firehouse Rotisserie in Anchor Square, Bristol. I had heard much about this hidden gem (all good things) whose ethos is that of an informal, wholesome Californian ilk. All expectations were greatly surpassed by my evening there. The 'Rotisserie' in the name does not do this restaurant justice.

I expected a surfeit of charred meat, a haven for Neanderthals craving blood and protein but no. None of that 'pick your own slab of cow' business to be found. Whilst retaining a Californian flavour, there is a touch of the Mediterranean about it; I daresay this is 'fusion' cuisine without the usual eclectic assembly of incongruous ingredients.

The menu offers a varied selection of starters, with little treasures such as stone baked mozzarella wrapped in prosciutto, which comes on rocket with a treacly aged balsamic to moisten, and the Chinese chicken salad, bound with a spicy sesame dressing and an agreeable inclusion of toasted almonds. Our tipple was a Chilean Merlot, which amply stood up to the intensity of the food, and an Australian Chardonnay, which was a tad over-oaked for my liking but a pleasant drink all the same.

Mains come in a number of ways; brick fired pizzas of original combinations like spicy Baja chicken with avocado, salsa fresca, coriander and sour cream, or Santa Fe barbecue chicken, red onion and coriander (not a pineapple chunk in sight) whilst the rotisserie caters for carnivores with the likes of slow roasted achiote new season lamb with red onion and ancho cabernet gravy.

My friend chose the free range chicken with herbes de Provence with lemon and tarragon aioli. The meat was moist and tender, and the background flavour of basil and marjoram was subtle enough not to overpower. The ambrosial lemon and tarragon aioli was impressive, an ideal sauce in which to baptize the remarkable bird, and our waitress was even willing to give us the recipe.

I chose stone baked Mediterranean sea bass with wild oregano and roasted tomatoes; the kitchen did justice to the noble bass in its cooking; the flesh was firm and not the slightest bit overdone, and the acidity of the tomatoes provided the perfect foil to the oily, oregano-infused juices. My other companion had the chorizo, pepper, chilli caribe and parmesan pizza, which did not fail to impress with its fiery chorizo slices, slightly crisp from the oven, and a generous sprinkling of wafers of parmesan.

Pudding was a daunting prospect, but like soldiers we pushed through the pain and chose strawberry cheesecake (smooth, indulgent, tart, and just plain beautiful) and a dangerously decadent Chocolate Torte 'al Caprese', which was rather like a slice from a giant chocolate truffle, daubed in crème fraiche. Whoever this 'Al Caprese' is I'd like to shake his hand. I digress.

The ambience of the Firehouse is one any restaurant would be pleased to have. The dining room resembles the house of Colombian drug lord (I mean that in a good way); it is a cavernous, white brick affair which has retained a large girder in the ceiling (a hark back to its former days as a lead works), low lit from large wrought-iron chandeliers, with an open kitchen providing a wonderful element of theatre to diners.

It is romantic, relaxing and unpretentious. There is that pleasingly gentle hum of conversation, chit-chat and laughter, and everyone who was eating there genuinely seemed to be happy. This restaurant has achieved that elusive synergy of fine food and good atmosphere, and I believe that this above anything is what makes a restaurant memorable. The Firehouse is a must-see on the Bristol culinary map.

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