Bistrot Caraïbes/ Ocean 82, Grand Case, St Martin

A tale of two cities: a game of two halves. Reliable clichés, they roll off the tongue easily enough without causing too much offence. Today's tale concerns two restaurants, not only on the same street, but directly across the street from each other featuring menus which could easily be interchangeable.

An odd island, Saint Martin. That's the northern part, which is French. In the south it's Sint Maarten which is Dutch. For such a tiny place ( area 87 square klometres, population 100,000) to have two governments, police forces, fire services, water works etc, makes the current Scottish administration seem a model of efficiency. But be that as it may, the top end eating places are tres tres French. A classic onion soup isn't my favourite choice in 30C heat, but you'll find it everywhere. And probably more foie gras per square metre than there is to be had in Paris. And... but you get the picture.

Both places were recommended by Francois Le Taxi. I'm just so glad we visited in the order we did, the reverse of the title. Anti climaxes are just too anti climactic.

Enter Ocean 82 and, despite the spectacular lobster tank, there's something just not right. It doesn't take long for the instincts to proven correct. Saint Martin calls itself the Friendly Island. While that's a title which many in the Caribbean would and could contest, it was certainly our overwhelming experience. Hospitality places are staffed with a real international mix, islanders and incomers alike. This being the European winter, there are huge numbers from hotels across the Atlantic which close for the winter; this being a French part, there are very many French; and then there are the people here.

I forget who took us to our table, but I didn't much care for him. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that nothing much happened for half an hour. When for something to do I asked for some bread, it seemed to come as a surprise. I started to scan the room. Only two thirds full, so no obvious cause for the delay. The kitchen was open plan. I've never seen such a queue of ticket orders. Mr Ramsay would have had a word or two to say. Yet despite that, there seemed to be no sense of urgency. A calm kitchen may be a thing to be commended, but with lots of hungry customers, a wee turn of speed would have been appreciated.

Having chosen our food and, possibly, having intimated the order to someone, I thought a bottle of wine might be appropriate. Hello, said Daphne, I'm the sommelier. A look at the carte would be nice, I suggested. I'm the list, she said. Just tell me what you would like. My flabber was gasted, and I repeated our not unreasonable request. Oh well, she said, you'll just have to wait and she flounced off. I swear I'm not making this up.

My starter was an unusual combo, cooked oysters with foie gras and smoked duck breast. What arrrived were six tiny bivalves in a not unpleasant creamy sauce. More time passes. We were seated at 7.30. By 8.45 L hasn't had a morsel, bread apart. Five minutes later, after I have snapped at Daphne, snapper of the fish variety appears. Two decent fillets of good fish with some mango chutney and a side of creamy mash.

In a place which obviously majors on shellfish, what could be finer than a fish pot containing lobster, scallops and mussels? When I get one I'll let you know. It looked promising, a half gallon of sauce clearly full of bits. In fact the sauce had started as a half hearted stock, then drenched in cream. The chunky bits were carrot, cauliflower and broccoli, plus a few morsels of fish. Seafood? Four tiny clams, and two mussels. The scallops and lobster had been given the night off.

I complain to a waiter. Without reference to anyone on high he comps it. Clearly standard operating procedure, and cheaper than putting scallops and lobster in the dish.

Same street, next night, 10 metres across the road. 8.15 this time. No chance of scoring a 7.30 table at Bistrot Caraïbes without booking well in advance. Straight into the bosom of a nicely chaotic, crammed, happy restaurant. Similar menu, but chalk and cheese from across the road. A simple but perfect starter of scallops and prawns in garlic butter. The cooking spot on, the prawns immaculate and fresh. Simple but wonderful.

More scallops for L, with tomatoes, butter sauce and some unseasonal asparagus (though the Mexican seasons will differ, I suppose). I had more confidence in  my order tonight, although, in theory, it was much the same dish as the previous night. Assiette du pecheur au coulis de langouste "facon de boullabaisse" ses croutons et sa rouille.

This had started life as a deep rich seafood stock. Roasted shells were probably involved. The liquid teemed with good things. The crunchy croutons had a generous bowl of the finest and garlickiest rouille to enhance the flavours even more.

A large French family at the next table were demolishing lobsters, a three year old happily helping pick morsels from the extremities. Vivien and Nadia shimmied their way through gaps disttributing joy. Despite its reputation as one of the island's finest, the wine prices were significantly keener than most other places we tried (though all things are relative).

At heart I'm quite a simple soul. A Caribbean moon, perfect seafood, great company (L says) and a glass of chilled Rully. It's not too much to ask for, surely?

By contrast, for the sake of completeness, I've scored across the road, so you don't have to.

Ocean 82, 82 Boulevard de Grande Case, Grand-Case 97150

Cooking 4/10; Flavour 3.5/5; Service 1.5/5; Value 3/5

Total 12/25