MAYBE I've been doing this job for too long but I am getting bored with many so-called contemporary urban restaurants.

I'm talking about those ten-a-penny establishments with their clinical sub-IKEA dÃcor, arrogant or, at best, supercilious staff and unwieldy pretentious menus. They tend to be run by people who think a modicum of style goes a long way, far enough at any rate to con the gullible into thinking they are at the cutting edge of modern hospitality.

Sometimes I think it's a disease eating its way into the heart of the British restaurant industry. Even the humble High Street tandoori now feels compelled to strip-off the flock wallpaper and order a lorry-load of laminate flooring, Conranesque furniture - and jack its prices up by at least 25 per cent.

So stumbling across an unreconstructed 1980s-style brasserie - in ultra trendy Yarm High Street of all places - was something of a revelation to the jaded eye and palate.

The owners of The Brasserie may well bridle at that period description because the establishment has been open only 12 years but they should take it as a compliment. We liked the warm and dark interior (reminding us somewhat of Middlesbrough's Purple Onion), with its low ceilings and half-timbered and herringbone brick walls which hinted at the building's original role as a cloth mill. We also liked the worn wooden floors, the sturdy furniture and the cosy little snug area which almost forms a tiny private dining room. We were not quite so keen on the loudness of the "background" music (an eclectic selection including Glen Campbell, Pet Shop Boys and Madness)

The menu (nine starters, 10 mains) is described as featuring fine French, Italian and Traditional cuisine which sounds rather grand. The reality is a selection of dishes where the influences are rather more far flung, but underpinning it is a good understanding of what works well on a plate.

Sylvia kicked off with a chicken liver parfait with fruit chutney and Melba toast (£5.95). It was firm, nicely liver-ish and not overly rich.

My spinach, sun-blushed roasted red peppers and parmesan risotto with aubergine crisps (£6.75) was enjoyed for its oily nuttiness. There were plenty of peppers, the spinach rather less evident, but it was a good portion, which had consequences for enjoyment of my main course.

I'd really wanted the slow-cooked pressed belly pork and roasted loin of pork with glazed spring vegetables and Calvados baby apples (£13.50) but that wasn't available so I went for another British dish - braised oxtail faggot in Savoy cabbage with pureed parsnip (£13.95).

I knew as soon as it was put in front of me that I wouldn't finish it. It was massive, the size of half a football filling the plate bar the pureed parsnip which formed a decorative surround. It was rich and with a depth of flavour that stays with you. The cabbage that formed the shell of the faggot was perhaps a tad undercooked but that's a quibble. The main thing is that if you choose this you really don't need a starter, unless of course you have just finished a full shift as a hod carrier.

Sylvia's char-grilled rib-eye steak with Madagascar sauce, chips and salad (£16.95) rather unusually was cut to the thickness of a fillet steak. But it was clearly well-aged and flavoursome but perhaps not as moist as rib-eye can be due to the thickness. The clearly-home-made chips and salad were very good.

Desserts, I'm afraid, were out of the question. There was a typical selection of standards like sticky toffee pudding and creme brulee for £4.95.

A couple of coffees brought our bill excluding drinks to a smidge over £50, pretty good value for an establishment in Yarm.

Service was informal but efficient. Our waiter was chatty and personable and everything arrived pretty promptly without us feeling rushed.

The Brasserie has a period feel which might not be to everybody's taste in 2007 but the cooking is a good blend of the traditional and modern. Take a trip down memory lane.