The owners of the Ellington must have been there, for it, too, cultivates the lowest of profiles. The only hint that this is a
hotel is the elegant script etched on the glass door.

Three old, brick buildings on York Place were sacrificed to create this top-end enterprise and not a penny has been spared in the pursuit of sophisticated glamour.

From the wow-inducing three-storey atrium to the marble staircase, from Lord ("green shoots of recovery") Lamont on the board to Albert Roux as the culinary adviser, everything whispers class.

David Pantin, the man behind a venture that looks bold indeed in this economic climate, spent five years as managing director of Rocco Forte Hotels and he must have deep pockets or benign bankers to fund the stellar ambitions for this place.

Everyone, from the concierge to the waiters, is on-message. Ask why it's here, and back come the beautifully rehearsed lines that while there are good hotels and good restaurants in Leeds, nothing quite combines them like this.

They are probably right. Anthony's is still the best, and best-run, restaurant in town but it has no rooms; Quebec's and 42, The Calls are fine boutique hotels, but neither has a dedicated restaurant.

There's something else. This place swarms with staff. As the paint is barely dry on the taupe walls, they are clearly out to impress. And they do. I've not seen this intensity of professionalism since that uniformed flunky in the Manila Hotel whisked open the door to the gilded toilets, rushed to flush the urinal then offered to wash my hands.

They stop short of that here, but not far. Walking into the gentlemen's club of a bar, your hand is grasped and shaken by a half-a-dozen suits, from the general manager to the maitre d'. I never knew I had so many friends and, gosh, are they keen to serve. In fact, the first impulse is to scoff at this full-on welcome, at this show of manners: haven't we all got used to laid-back service in hang-loose brasseries?

Well indeed, far too used to it. In too many, informality has collapsed into laissez-faire. I'm weary of sullen kids mooching about in a no-hearted attempt to serve food and wine. Even where front-of-house charm is to be found, it's often at the expense of those neglected twins, expertise and experience.

The Ellington signals a return to the sort of formality that remains this side of intimidation. We could have chosen, had we been rich, mad or both, a bottle of Ch Petrus at £1,200 but the staff seemed equally happy to dispense a glass of Chilean rosé at 200 times less.

The bar area is lovely – comfortable armchairs in purple and burgundy – and it is here that a slightly awkward truth dawns: the restaurant is in the basement. Food needs to be good – as at Anthony's – to draw diners into a cellar and this area is the only one in this hotel that feels like a compromise. However, once you get over the shock of the supposedly Art Deco designs – crazed mirrors, beaded voile, purple banquettes, chandeliers like shoe-trees – it's fine. Dressing up a restaurant as a courtesan's boudoir does have a certain novelty.

And the food? Like the cutlery, plates and glassware, it's mostly fine, some of it conspicuously so. Chef Robert Bates, a Hartlepool lad, has come from the Hotel Metropole in Monte Carlo where Joel Robuchon is consultant chef.

Talking of which, Silvano Giraldin, once Maitre d' at Le Gavroche, is the service consultant here. He works for the Albert Roux consultancy, which you will recall is supervising the food.

Considering the presence of this lot, why was the tarte tatin so disappointing? It was far too quick to the table: good fruit but no magic to the caramel or pastry, the elements that create its allure. Perhaps they should haul in Marco White as an extra consultant. He does – or did – the world's best tatin.

One surprise, given the surroundings, is the fair pricing. There are starters from £6.50, mains from £13 and puddings at £6.50. Even though prices climb from there, they don't go crazy, though a 10 per cent service charge adds its own inflation. I do hope they don't apply it to the Petrus, or I may never go again.

How encouraging, also, to see a short menu: six starters, three fish, four meat and four grills (including a vegetable dish), five puddings and cheese.

And, in case you doubted, the style is French. Here's a taste: crab salad with Charentais melon; rabbit braised in white wine, served in herbs and mustard jelly; sautéed scallops with black pudding, apple purée and cider butter; duck leg confit with Tarbais beans; loin of venison with roasted pear and chestnuts; coffee crème brûlée, macaroon with mascarpone cream and poached strawberries.

You could fall in love with any of these but let me point you to one stunner: Quenelle de brochet à la Lyonnaise (pike mousse with lobster sauce.) It's not the sort of dish you often find on menus in this country but this was as good as any I've had in France. The poached quenelle trembled on the plate, proof of the brilliant texture, and I gibbered my way through it in awe of its intensity of flavour and subtlety of technique.

This alone would persuade me back, but so would the warm leek salad with poached egg and herb vinaigrette, a marvellous construction; so would the wondrously fresh roasted fillet of cod with shellfish and parsley risotto, another example of the chef's light touch and thought for texture; so would the grilled entrecote – impressive
meat, immaculately timed – with its copybook béarnaise.

The chips are fluffily fair but not a patch on those at Sous le Nez down the road – and the side order of vegetables is fine but meagre. To mitigate the tarte tatin, there's an caramelised lemon tart, as bright and sharp as a fencer's foil.

The Belgian who served all this has about 10 pairs of eyes, all of them piercing. At once point, I was taking my hobby of wineglass-swirling a little far and some red landed on the cloth. Within a nanosecond he appeared from nowhere to cover the stain with a smaller cloth.

Incidentally, the wine list makes War and Peace look like a pamphlet. Strong in France, it starts at about £20 and heads for the stratosphere with a host of reliable producers and vintages.

In case you tire of the Ellington, another is on the way for Leeds in 2010. More immediately, David Pantin is opening a Cuban restaurant and bar next month in the city's overcrowded restaurant market. One step too far? We shall see.

The Ellington, 23-25 York Place, Leeds, LS1 2EY. 0113 204 2150. www.pantinhotels.com. Email: info@pantinhotels.com. Open seven days for lunch and dinner. Afternoon tea in lounge, 35 bedrooms, private dining. Street parking.