The Red Lion

As befits its name, the Red Lion is a real pub, not a restaurant that looks like a pub. It's down-to-earth, perfectly homely and full of drinkers. Although it stands on a bit of land that has boasted a hostelry since the 11th century, the present brick-built entity is a little more recent than that. Uneven surfaces come as standard, from the rough wood tabletops to the flagstoned floor, and the jumble of furniture indicates that the place hasn't been subjected to the 'designer' treatment.

Chef Sean Jeffers has brought the kitchen up to appreciable speed, running a repertoire that isn't shy of turning out ambitious dishes while keeping the pub classics and robustly filling fare that drinkers expect. The suet pie of steak and ale is a case in point, its pastry gradating texturally from crisp to solid, a jug of gravy on the side, with either veg and mash, or chips and salad, to accompany. 

The more aspirational offerings land in the evenings, none more so than an ethereal twice-baked Parmesan soufflé, its outer crust all cheesy intensity, the interior a cumulus cloud of savoury delight. A dish from the old school of fine dining involves packing moussed scallop into an ink-black raviolo, saucing it with light choron, and garnishing it with zinging chorizo jam, shredded kohlrabi and a whole scallop. To follow, a serving of pedigree pork fillet comes with a cabbage-wrapped nugget of braised cheek, along with truffled fondant potato, grilled oyster mushroom and black garlic purée for a dish that evinces attention to detail in every element.

For dessert, there could be a 'chocolate bar' with a glossy tempered coating and light white chocolate interior, topped with candied hazelnuts and superb malt ice cream, but there's also sticky toffee pudding for the diehards. The beers are as good as one has a right to expect from a pub, although the wine selection is a ghastly throwback to the days when hostelries could hardly be bothered with this libation. The cooking deserves a lot better than that.