I am thirty and becoming someone I never thought I would. I am becoming a twitcher. I now cross town to spend my Friday afternoons scouring the Barnes Wetland Centre for the northern lapwing – a native bird teetering on the brink of extinction. We spend hours scanning the reeds and shallows but to no avail. Dusk brings with it a feeling of dejection as we pack away our scopes and binoculars. ‘Next time’, says the cheery receptionist as we head off for some conciliatory refreshment.

Across Barnes Bridge is the Waterman’s Arms, the latest venture from Patty & Bun founder Joe Grossmann. You can see why he picked the site; nestled into a bend on the Thames it has unrivalled views across the river. Standing outside the restaurant (and make no mistake, this is no longer a  pub), Grossman has done away with the claret exterior and Rockwell font signage that previously gave it the feel of a saloon boozer rather than a modern British dining destination.

Inside, we’re shown upstairs to a table overlooking the water. Our waiter guides us through the menu and specials board which rests against one of the original wooden windows. ‘It’s all about sharing’ she tells us, and it becomes apparent that chef Sam Andrews (formerly of the Camberwell Arms) has brought his generous ‘two spoon’ ethos to this side of south London. Hereford Steak with smoked garlic butter, spit-roast chicken and onion broth, pork chops – all delicious, all for two. We need another minute to decide.

We begin with a curried scallop each. Soft and fragrant, it storms the nostrils before it hits your tongue and for three mouthfuls, only our eyes do the talking. This is a hard act to follow, but a crumb-topped medley of artichokes, butterbeans and celery more than states its claim.

Next comes plaice, which arrives on a vivid spread of wild  garlic sauce. I’ve never given much thought to plaice – there are certainly prettier fish in the sea – but cooked over a wood fire, the flesh is silky and substantial and we mop up the sauce with a basket of stubby chips. The disappointment of not seeing the lapwing feels very far away.

It’s all done very well. Andrew’s menu delivers exactly on its promise , but it’s not without ambition. The boudin noir with fried egg and spring onions was on our plate for a second. Ordering the fennel lasagne was a must for me, and while there was possibly a little too much going on between the sheets, how often do you encounter a fennel lasagne? To finish we shared a baked malt custard, which my companion tells me would be his death row pudding. Three toasted mouthfuls later it’s easy to see why.

Outside the river is quiet and oily. We leave, and follow it to Barnes Bridge station, stopping occasionally for the lapwing’s call. Still nothing. Next time, I tell myself. There are very good reasons to return.