Is it a coincidence that we're asked four times in five minutes what we'd like to drink, just hours after a complaint about Ox And Finch's drink service appears on the internet?

Staff certainly seem so obsessed with the drinks question tonight that they completely ignore requests to order food. Hello?

After 20 minutes of waiting, I capture a waitress and ask her please, please, please can we eat? Of course, the drinks still take a snooze age to come. Hey ho, new restaurant chaos then. Understandable, given the rush.

It seems at times during the boom-boom, hustle-bustle period, that wide-eyed staff are going round and round that central partition in the style of headless chickens. Who is in charge out here, chums? Memo to Ox And Finch bosses: ask the waiting staff to make eye contact with customers. It may catch on. Fortunately, what with this being a lovely evening and with this being a fabulous bare stone and aged wood fit-out, the place is positively swinging with atmosphere. There are glamorous ladies in frocks everywhere squired by men with the latest must-have accessory - the Conchita beard.

Food, when it comes in fits and starts, is announced then sort of crash-landed in front of the nearest person. Hey, who cares? We're starving over here.

As we split a sizeable hanger steak that is perfection - caramelised charring, melting meat, proper seasoning and served with onion rings fried in some bifter tasty batter for £7.75 - the ladies at the table next to us are celebrating a birthday with candles on cup cakes. Just opened and it's already that kind of place. Incidentally, who knew that peas, shelled broad beans and a few strips of courgette could taste so good when mixed with lemon, stock and tiny torpedo-shaped orzo pasta?

Now, it would be wrong not to report that the trendy booth seating on the other side is so narrow that there's a guy sitting with one whole cheek dangling awkwardly into corridor space. It isn't putting us off as we're comfortably enjoying squid with a chilli and orange salad that's all chunks of moist seasoned fruit, dressed greens, fiery red chilli slices and crispy squid at a small two-seater table.

I feel a tired sigh for the braised ox cheeks on caulifower coming on, not just because there's absolutely no taste of bacon in the bacon gremolata but because ox cheek, heavy and glutinous tasting as it is, has already become a foodie cliche.

That beetroot and cumin pesto spread on toast? Wow. Delicious. The grilled baby gem lettuce with anchovy, parmesan crackling and caesar dressing? Crikey, it's good, and £3.50. Even the truffle chips, which are not chips (they're the shape of baby roasts), are crisp and creamy inside. Though I wouldn't go so mad with the pungent truffle salt next time even if someone did complain on the web that there was none on theirs. Good chunk of creamy gratin dauphinois, though, almost as good as Marks & Spencer's.

Problems? There are a few. That mackerel. Grilled super crisp, especially the skin, and served with a whole but fatty chorizo. Lovely fish, reasonably good sausage, but together? Nah. Never. And there is not nearly enough sherry vinaigrette to cut through the flavours.

The lamb meatballs with baba ghanoush and ground and toasted hazelnut dukkah? There's no seasoning in the meatballs while the baba ghanoush lacks flavour.

Those fiver desserts? The coconut parfait is cool and refreshing with real punchy passion fruit and mango though the baby pineapple is chewy. Only the limp popcorn detracts from a rich dark chocolate cremeux.

A mixed bag, then? Yes, but there's a really great atmosphere in here - a buzz - and a comfortable feel.

Not all the dishes pay off, but enough do to suggest this could be the major new restaurant hit that Glasgow's fashionable Finnieston stretch of restaurants is still crying out for.