Bones (CLOSED)

If London’s dining-trend-chasers ever experience a collective moment of clarity, throw their eating irons in the air and demand an end to bullshit concepts, don’t be surprised if the revolution starts under the railway arches on the edge of Hoxton, at this smart but unremarkable new spot. For while Bones knows its fads, it mashes them together in a way that makes you forget why they were ever exciting in the first place.

Operated by the owners of The Grocery next door (imagine a more expensive Waitrose with all the ready meals replaced by lentils), Bones teams free-range rotisserie chicken with sharing plates, locally brewed beers and offbeat bar snacks – like pigs ears and quail’s eggs (both unavailable on our visit). The chicken, though lacking any sort of herby seasoning, was soft and succulent. Sharing plates were similarly decent, with the exception of the pigeon breast salad with vegetable crisps, which was fantastic.

But what good is this if you can’t get the simple stuff right? The fries in our mug-worth (£3.50) were pale, flaccid, sub-chicken-shop sticks of starchy nonsense; a starter of artichoke hearts with truffle aioli lacked even a hint of truffle.

Service, meanwhile, was polite but panicked – we waited a full 15 minutes for a bottle of beer (because, we were told, the bartender was busy making a cocktail), and the aforementioned fries were left on the bill, despite assurances they wouldn’t be. Forgivable sins for a casual venue, but it all adds up to a less than spine-tingling experience. Average food, then, in trendy Shoreditch surrounds – expect queues down the road.