Ego Mediterranean Restaurant and Bar, Leeds

Since insurance stopped being the business here, it's been a place to eat in, a number of occupants having come and gone, and the common theme was Italian.

Ego breaks the mould to the extent that Italian dishes are part of a Mediterranean mix in which is to be found one or more from Spain, Portugal, Greece, France and Morocco.

They are served in a setting which is both humbling and homely. The ceiling's so high a giraffe could stand in here without bumping its head – but it would have to avoid the large ceiling fans, turning as though in summer despite there being snow outside. And you would all but disappear if one of the hanging lampshades should fall and land where you're sitting.

Upstairs and downstairs, this place seats 120. The upstairs – smart but cosier with its much-lower ceiling – is reached by a flamboyant spiral staircase.

To indicate that despite this grand scale Ego is friendly and unpretentious, there are shelves with an eclectic collection of ornaments. Just above us was one of those brightly-coloured Sparklet soda siphons circa 1970 which you plugged a little carbon dioxide cylinder into and shook vigorously. We had one for years but not having used it for a decade at least, put in the jumble sale. Seeing its sister on the shelf in Ego made me think that perhaps we'd let go a collectable.

The basket-weave chairs at the tables are comfortable and in the same spirit of informality. After our coats had been taken, the duty waiter came by to mention two specials: a pizza-based starter with tomato, pesto and Italian cheese, and a main course featuring sliced duck breast.

The pizza thing was a wise choice. Served with pieces of sun-dried tomato, this was a treat – soft and luscious on a wafer-thin base. Accompanied by a 2008 Pinot Grigio (16.95), it made the moment. Global warming? A pending general election? Calamities in Afghanistan? Terrorist suicide bombers? No thanks, just another slice, please.

That all gone, we arrive at the starter. The thing about shellfish is that when perfectly fresh it's distinctively sweet, so I inquire are its ingredients fresh or frozen? Fresh, I am assured. The dish comes with calamari rings done in a tempura batter, whitebait and a couple of roasted prawns. The calamari was as soft as I've ever had it, the whitebait was, well, whitebait, and the prawns were… the waiter had said they were fresh, so I must believe him.

Next along was a Moroccan lamb tajine and a Chicken Cacciatore (chicken breast with pepper, mushroom, onion and tomato sauce, served with pesto gnocchi). The lamb in the tajine was heavily outnumbered by the other ingredients, including onion, chick peas, couscous, sweet potato and tomatoes.

But this is essentially a peasant dish and the proportion of meat was, I would guess, about right. The kitchen had produced a robust and hearty meal with a rich variety of textures and flavours. Nothing to be disappointed about there.

But the chicken cacciatore presented that dilemma which arises when the waiter dutifully asks "Everything all right?" and you either lie with "Yes. Fine thanks" or tell the truth. The chicken was dry and uninteresting, to be livened up by a stick of dynamite, perhaps, but certainly not some mushrooms, onion, tomato sauce and gnocchi – even with pesto in the mixture.

Thankfully, there was to be no altercation. Apologies followed and the invitation to choose something else. So we tried the Chicken Parmigiana (bread-crumbed chicken breast, pan fried, and glazed with tomato and Italian cheeses and served with spaghetti).

The chicken arrived in crusted strips on a pile of warm spaghetti. A strange dish indeed. Very dry, and while I thought the chicken pleasant enough, partnering it with spaghetti was the culinary equivalent of playing tennis with cricket bats. It just didn't work. What to do?

"How's everything this time?" – it's the manager now.

The upshot was an interesting and good-natured discussion (on this mid-week, extra-cold night, business in the city-centre restaurant trade was slack), followed by a perfectly-good tiramisu and an excellent espresso coffee.

Far from spoiled, the evening had been an enjoyable one.

In addition to which, neither chicken dish featured on the bill. Considering we ate the second, this was a gesture which I think not many restaurants would be prepared to make.

Without the deductions, the bill would have come to about 51. We were courteously served and generously accommodated.

n Ego, open 8.30 to 22.30 throughout the week, Atlas House, 31 King Street, Leeds, LS1 2HL. Tel. 0113 244 9014. www.egorestaurants.co.uk

All day Sunday and from 4pm to 7pm Mondays to Fridays (4pm to 6pm Saturdays), Ego does a Prix Fixe deal, with two courses for 11.95 and three for 13.85.