In a fit of self improvement, Kikujiro and I took in Winterbottom's latest film last night at the ICA. By time the closing credits ground to a halt, we were deepy moved, passionately politicised - and er, rather peckish. (I blame the restaurant scene near the beginning.) Wanting nothing more than to nosh and discuss the film at length, we headed for the ICA bar/cafe/canteen space. We walked in, were immediately overwhelmed by the incredibly crowded upstairs bar, and ended up drifting into a tiny and worryingly underpopulated canteen-like room tucked away behind a pillar. Here the confusion began. There was a menu on the table, but the kitchenette visible at the back of the room was dark. Black-clad staff drifted around with empty dishes, but didn't make eye contact. On closer inspection, the menu gave listings for the bar, the cafe, and the canteen - but we had no way of working out which of those spaces we were in, and the serving times appeared to be the same for all of them. ("What do you think? Does this feel like a canteen to you?" I quizzed Kiku at one point.) Throughout all this, the staff ignored us. Less obsessed souls might have given up and gone elsewhere, but we had already noted the Appreciation of Spanish Pig - a plate of iberico ham, chorizo and other porcine goodies - on the menu and were determined to press on. "Maybe we need to go to the bar." Kiku offered, sounding unconvinced. Seconds later, he finally managed to catch a staff member's eye, and we discovered that only the bar menu was available (why?) and therefore pig appreciation was out of our grasp. We decided to opt for a tapas-like selection of bacon/chicken terrine, salt cod fritters with chilli ketchup, sweet potato wedges with garlic mayo, marinated artichokes (one each, as it happens), a small dish of olives and and small dish of tortilla wedges with salsa and guacamole. Overall, the quality was good, though not terribly exciting. The salt cod fritters had a nice texture, but were less cod-y and salty than I expected. Their accompanying dip was sweet and tomato-y, but had forgotten its chilli. The colourful mix of large green, medium black and tiny purple olives tasted mostly of cumin. The tortilla chips were freshly fried (a little too freshly, as they were still shiny with grease) and their salsa also lacked an expected chilli-punch. The sweet potato wedges were wonderful - huge, caramelised, creamy and perfectly complemented by their garlic mayo side - but needed to be cut into managable pieces. The biggest disappointment for me, however, was the layered terrine. It looked lovely, but tasted of very little. It made the missing Pig Plate seem all the more unattainably wonderful. The ICA bar isn't a destination restaurant, but you could do a lot worse after spending 90 minutes in the dark watching subtitles fly by. Just don't order the terrine. Or believe any menu description that promises chillies.