The term 'institution' can mean many things, and, on the whole, most of these definitions are far from positive.

After all, it can refer to: (a) a place of correction or recuperation, or (b) a body or establishment that has existed for years and has become mired in its own history.

It can, however, also refer to an enterprise or concern that has become an institution for all the right reasons and I suppose Browns in Oxford fits this bill.

When I moved here nearly two years ago, the first place I was taken to eat was Browns and I clearly remember why.

My newly acquired flatmates wanted to welcome me to Oxford and going to Browns, they said, was simply 'what you did'. Like punting, attempting to jump off Magdalen Bridge and picnicking in Port Meadow.

In short, Browns, they assured me, is as much a part of Oxford as its dreaming spires, CS Lewis and the bowler-hatted porters at the colleges.

And I didn't take much convincing. I soon learned it's the sort of place which is always abuzz with an interesting mix of characters young students desperately in love, bosses with their secretaries, parents out with their teenage children, elderly couples living it up.

On the evening my guest and I went along to check out the new summer menu, we were shown to a pleasant spot which gave us a perfect view over the other diners and, as it was a Saturday night, it was packed.

And take it from me, if you want to people-watch, this is the place to do it. I don't think we talked for at least five minutes, so absorbed were we by the alphabet of social intercourse.

The decor is conducive to easy chatter, gentle conversation and the occasional spot of wooing, and the staff are genuinely friendly, no matter how busy they may be.

Our waiter was more than good at his job. Maybe I should have asked his name, because he treated us like royalty. Waiting is such a delicate balancing act; attempting to serve without being either fawning and obsequious or the opposite all stand-offish and formal.

And this guy got the balance just right; incredibly friendly and attentive, without being Uriah Heep-ish.

But, of course, we were there to eat a minor consideration I always think in a great restaurant that boasts such a fantastic vibe.

We kicked off with two glasses of Champagne (a very reasonable £6 each) while we mused the menu.

To start, I ordered the salmon and spring onion fish cakes while my guest plumped for the moules marinieres, laced with Calvados.

Both were beautiful, although I think my guest's was maybe a toucher better than mine, which is always irritating.

But at least I could compete with the main course; that is until we ordered exactly the same fillet of beef served with bearnaise sauce, grilled flat mushrooms, asparagus spears, watercress and fries.

Sadly, while both were perfectly acceptable medium rare as requested they weren't out of this world.

Stringy was the word my guest used. Everything else was fine, but fillet steak unless it's perfect really isn't worth having at all. A touch disappointing.

But we hoped at least the dessert would make up for it. And it did. I had the Browns chocolate brownie served with vanilla ice cream, while my guest went for the summer pudding with vanilla pouring cream.

Both were fine, and all in all, we had a great time, supping energetically our Short Mile Bay Riesling while lapping up the atmosphere.

If the steaks had been better, it would have made a perfect evening. Perhaps that's something that needs to be looked at.

But like I said, Browns is an institution and a restaurant I'll always revisit. This was the first 'average' meal I've ever had there.

And I'll always go back time and again because you just can't beat the vibe...