Restaurants with glorious gardens
Published 10 June 2025

Dining at chef Richard Swale’s Allium at Askham Hall is like being a house guest in a small château. The 14th-century Pele tower in the picture-perfect hamlet of Askham was, until 2012, the family home of the Lowther family. Sensitively converted for human-scaled hospitality, it remains family-owned and an integral part of the wider working estate. A hand-drawn sketch within the daily changing six-course menu illustrates the provenance of the vast majority of ingredients direct from their own perfectly tended market gardens, farms and upland game areas. Produce this fresh demands cooking of absolute integrity and authenticity, and this Allium is certainly one lily that needs no gilding. The result? Uber-local dishes of joyous celebration, technical excellence and maximum flavour. The Askham garden salad with sheep's curd, truffle and a duck-gizzard vinaigrette is a dish with nowhere to hide, offering simple perfection, leaf by carefully placed leaf. The bold approach to sweet Mull langoustines with red curry and cauliflower pays dividends, while tender red deer with summer savory, beetroot and elderberries captures the essence of this distinctive place on a single plate. A geranium set cream with rhubarb evidences a lightness of touch and preparedness to elevate humble plants to elegant status. Dining in the airy garden room, sensitively appended to the original castle walls, emphasises its proximity to the produce which is the bedrock of brilliance underpinning this 'charming experience'. To match the quality of cooking, an awe-inspiring leather-bound wine list navigates an A-Z of the world’s great wines from the private cellars of passionate collectors. Despite some unique rarities costing an average UK annual salary, there are many well-chosen options at prices accessible to ordinary mortals. All is lovingly stewarded by charming house manager/maître d'/sommelier Nico Chieze, who approaches customers of differing wine knowledge with equal grace and curates flights that cut through any complexity or concern. Some restaurants may appear arbitrary in their location, but Allium and its close-knit family at Askham Hall has deep roots into the local land, history and community.

Located a winding five-minute drive through the 1,000-acre Trelowarren Estate on the Lizard Peninsula, this remarkable enterprise feels charmingly isolated – although a handful of holiday cottages and a small gallery, plus Flora’s café, bakery and restaurant bring a quiet buzz to the old stable yard at the centre of things.

Tim and Louise Rødkjaer Spedding took up residence here in early 2023 and make excellent use of local supplies as well as produce from their walled garden. What they offer is some of the most confidently simple cooking in the region, all deeply connected to the seasons in a way that most city chefs can only dream of.

Superb Danish pastries are the stars at breakfast (Louise is from Copenhagen), and bread from their wood-fired oven is a mainstay across the board. During a recent summer lunchtime visit, our table in the courtyard (next to rambling roses and vines) was perfect for enjoying a fragrant but barely dressed salad of mozzarella, fresh peas, nectarine and basil, paired with a generous portion of Tim’s sesame-encrusted einkorn loaf (some of the best we’ve ever had). Dessert was a perfect arrangement of chamomile panna cotta, strawberries and tangy elderflower granita, which elicited audible sighs from fellow diners.

The café also opens for dinner on Fridays and Saturdays, when the repertoire might range from butter-poached lobster with cherry tomatoes, basil and lemon verbena to crisp pork belly partnered by anchovy sauce, grilled peppers and olives. On Sundays, they open the larger New Yard restaurant space for a fixed-price lunchtime spread headlined by a mighty roast – perhaps 60-day dry-aged sirloin and featherblade with rainbow chard, grilled onions and fresh horseradish.

Service from a small, happy team is cheerfulness personified, while homemade soft drinks such as kombuchas and fig-leaf cordials sit alongside a selection of wines from Tutto. Booking is recommended for lunch and dinner, as is a walk through the estate to the magic creeks of the Helford River (featured in Daphne du Maurier’s Frenchman’s Creek).

Forget the puff on Hampton Manor’s website: there’s not an ounce of flounce in David Taylor’s cooking. He strips down food to its essentials, its essences. The results are deceptively simple – and sensational. Taylor, still in his 30s, has worked in some big-name kitchens, from Purnell's in Birmingham to Maaemo in Oslo, and a Nordic influence is apparent in the minimalist stylings of the restaurant – a modern, airy addition set apart from the hotel itself, with cream walls, dark wooden furniture and bare rafters. Focal points are the walled garden, displayed through large picture windows, and the open kitchen where the final touches are given to dishes before serving. Watch Taylor and his young team: studies in quiet concentration. The atmosphere is casual yet focused, serene yet serious. Diners for Saturday lunchtime's eight-course tasting menu (there’s also a 15-course dinner) are dressed-down, as are the engaging on-the-ball staff; relaxing folk harmonies provide the background soundtrack. Dishes are described at table, sometimes by Taylor himself, and a written menu is supplied with the bill. Lunch might commence with tomato consommé surrounding a solitary cherry tomato, at peak ripeness. Supporting ingredients (smoked lamb’s heart in the broth; sweet cicely garnish) serve to tease out the tomato’s true flavour. Likewise, the following dish: a creamy buttermilk emulsion covering little chunks of leek, with a topping of powdered leek (there’s much freeze-drying here) to pique the palate. Bread from Hampton Manor’s bakery gets its own course, and even diners with modest appetites can relish the two thick slices of irresistible sourdough since carbs are a rarity later on. Next, a highlight: a single, exquisitely tender scallop, its sweetness accentuated by imperceptible honey, topped with strands of its dried roe, plus a broth of roasted mussels to provide some seaside punch. Two little courses of fowl might follow: a juicy slice of wood pigeon matched with an autumnal girolle purée in a sublime sticky pigeon and redcurrant sauce followed by succulent duck breast contrasted with a small liver-rich faggot coated in tangy gooseberry gel. Provenance is important here: much produce hails from the walled garden, suppliers are name-checked and soil-health is a deciding factor in choosing the wines (an enticing list ordered into evocatively named sections and administered by a quietly passionate sommelier). Of the three sweet dishes on offer, mouth-wateringly zesty local blueberries best epitomised Taylor’s approach: served under a luxuriously creamy buttermilk mousse but rooted to the earth by a topping of grassy sorrel powder. Only the finale offered unalloyed indulgence: two brown-butter madeleines with a pot of rich crème diplomat, a blob of rum syrup at its centre. Coherence, innovation, artistry: qualities on which the very top restaurants should be judged. Grace & Savour excels at all three.

* Martin Carabott (ex-Luca and Hide) has been appointed executive head chef, following George Bloggs' departure at the end of 2024. Watch for a new review coming soon.*

The house was bought in 1884 by William Robinson, renowned horticulturist, journalist and champion of 'natural gardening', and over the years its grounds have been lovingly nurtured by Gravetye's successive occupants. It's a glorious spot and well worth a wander if time and weather allow; check out the magnificent Victorian kitchen garden if you want to see where many of the ingredients on your plate come from. There are glasshouses and polytunnels on the land as well.

It's the kind of place where you're greeted outside by smiling staff and offered drinks out on the lawn or in a grand panelled room with an ornate moulded ceiling; once you're seated in your well-upholstered chair in the smart, contemporary dining room with its wall of glass overlooking blooming borders, everything is hunky-dory – and the feel-good mood continues as the food arrives.

A cheese and truffle gougère disappears in one satisfyingly bite, and its companion amuse-bouche – duck liver parfait with blackberry gel – reveals the kitchen's penchant for prettiness. Seasonal lunch and dinner menus include supplementary intermediate courses and cheese if you're going all in, and there are thoughtfully put together vegetarian and vegan opportunities too. The bread basket overflows with the likes of buttermilk brioche and seeded malt bread, although the arrival of five flavoured butters maybe suggests that the kitchen is a little too keen to impress. To follow, cured chalk stream trout gets a sweet smokiness from the clever use of lapsang souchong tea (plus a citrus zing from finger limes), while the Gravetye garden salad with confit egg yolk is a 'beautifully colourful' beatification of the garden's bounty.

Modern ideas are underpinned by classical good sense, so 'duck and orange' matches tender meat (its skin deliciously crisp) with a sweet hit of marmalade plus earthy forms of beetroot and red chicory (from caramelised to pickled). Saucing is on the money throughout (Chardonnay with fillet of turbot, for example) and flavours ring true – not least the 'fabulous' mint ice cream, which tastes fresh from the plant and is ceremonially placed into a perfectly risen blackcurrant soufflé. The wine list has the the English southern counties covered, including top-drawer fizz, but it deals in excellence from around the world – although its first love is the French classics.

To its many returnees, Hambleton Hall is the very definition of country-house dining: a late-Victorian pile on a peninsula jutting into Rutland Water, with beautifully tended landscaped gardens and a brigade of front-of-house staff attuned to the gentilities, but without a trace of obsequiousness. Aaron Patterson has been cooking here for well over 20 years, but his menus still feel fresh and enticing, built on seasonal produce and with an emphasis on lightness. Early summer might see San Marzano tomatoes featuring in a starter with elements of gazpacho, including a little basil ice cream, ahead of jointed quail on seasonal greens with spinach tortellini and a fried quail's egg. Alternatively, you might begin with a terrine of heritage carrots with spiced carrot ice cream and coriander oil, before moving on to poached fillet of halibut with wild garlic, egg yolk purée and morels ('our fish dishes are served warm, not hot,' says a note on the menu). To conclude, the house take on tiramisu found one reporter discovering the limits of their tolerance for deconstruction, but a simple blackcurrant soufflé was an emphatic, featherlight triumph; also, don't miss Hambleton's 'walnut whip' with passion fruit marshmallow, if it's available. When it comes to wine, Hambleton doesn't rest on its laurels, so expect an extensive line-up of high-toned classics, 'wines of the moment' and Coravin glass selections.

Tucked away at the bottom of a steep valley that feels lost in time, this 'absolute hidden gem' of a farm-to-table restaurant is an entrancing prospect complete with prettily planted sun-trap terraces, while inside beautiful oak beams and terracotta walls hung with gardening tools give a stylishly rustic feel. There's much praise, too, for chef Matthew Briddon's 'modern, imaginative' Italian menu, showcasing vegetables from the estate's walled kitchen garden alongside locally reared meat. Everything from the bread to the ice cream is made in-house. You may know Iford Manor for its excellent ciders and cans of apple soda (both of which feature on the drinks list), but there is much more to admire here. Briddon's care and attention to provenance and process pays dividends on the plate, whether in a starter of pickled beet salad with rocket, croûtons and a wonderfully refreshing apple/fennel gazpacho poured at the table, or a main of tender, juicy grilled pork with a hasselback potato, a roast head of fennel and a fabulously tangy lemon, anchovy and tomato salsa. Our late spring lunch crescendoed with a limoncello curd, raspberry and mint tart topped with a generous swirl of burnt Italian meringue. Committed and friendly staff combined with the restaurant's community-minded ethos create a warm welcome, and there's a short European wine list to round things off. Note that the restaurant is only open for lunch (accompanied by live jazz on Saturdays); they also host occasional supper clubs. Next door is the private Georgian manor house and the extraordinarily beautiful and romantic Grade I-listed Peto Garden (open to the public April to September), which you must book separately to visit.

Nothing much changes at Langar Hall – and therein lies its appeal. Though it’s been business for some three decades, there is something timeless about following the long avenue of limes to this tangerine-hued country house – a little idyll surrounded by fields and ancient fish ponds, with a medieval church tower peeking above its roof. Inside, a maze of dining rooms is done out with eccentricity and elan – think Persian carpets, chandeliers, Grecian statues, Buddhas and armchairs sporting 'Paul Smith' stripes. 

There is character in the cooking too – some make the journey specifically for the twice-baked cheese soufflé, though other starters might include wild sea bass with asparagus, topped with brown shrimps and a dollop of lovage dressing. Mains span the traditional (satisfying Sunday lunch-style braised lamb shank with spring greens) to the more eclectic (skate wing with Thai crab broth and an unadvertised crab bao bun on the side). Desserts were a highlight of our lunchtime visit – especially a passion-fruit tart with peanut butter and white-chocolate ice cream, eaten slowly to savour views of the afternoon sun filtering through the yews, and creeping over croquet lawns. 

Set lunch menus represent especially good value, and the wine list leans heavily on the Old World. It's also worth dipping into the cocktail list at the little corner bar, where concoctions pay tribute to the late Imogen Skirving, the visionary 'chatelaine' who inherited Langar Hall in 1983 (it's now run by her granddaughter Lila Arora). 

Le Manoir in late May is a picture. Wisteria drapes over its honeyed stone, and you can wander freely across graceful lawns to kitchen gardens, orchards and ponds that hum with the energy of the season. This has been Raymond Blanc’s domain for almost 40 years and while firmly rooted in that heritage, its gaze is now fixed firmly on the future. Clearly the brief for 30-something Luke Selby, executive head chef since January 2023, has been not to cause upheaval within these mellow walls, rather to lead things gently forward – his six-course menu feels light-footed and playful, youthful and fresh. Luxury here is defined not necessarily by a flash of langoustine or lobster, more by garden-fresh produce whose flavours are allowed to shine. Tiny peas gather with vivid sweetness on a ricotta-filled tartlet, one of the exquisite canapés. Beetroot demonstrates its peerless versatility in a beautiful opener of deftly cubed pieces, the tartare base for a dome of beetroot mousse glossed with a gel that’s dotted with pickled mooli ‘flowers’. It’s fun and palate-awakening, thanks to a horseradish sorbet that sears fierily through the sweetness. Later, a dainty potato basket of tiny carrots, ribboned asparagus and crimson-edged slivers of radish is a bouquet of garden offerings alongside roasted guinea fowl. A morel filled with the lightest chicken and mushroom mousse sits in the airy tickle of a Gewürztraminer foam like a giant thimble; underneath is just-poached white asparagus, on top a crisp toast for texture. It’s a Blanc classic, but updated to offer a single, showstopping mushroom rather than three small ones as on previous menus. Classic too is the confit chalk stream trout on pickled mooli with compressed cucumber, tiny cauliflower florets, horseradish, dill oil and oscietra caviar. Its summery flavours are beautifully balanced, and it’s dashingly attractive. Desserts are exquisite. Bitter chocolate with coconut sorbet refreshes, before rosy-red gariguette and wild strawberries arrive, announced by their fragrance. Scarlet pieces of fresh fruit and a bright strawberry sorbet top a feather-light mousse, a pistachio biscuit base tempering the fruit’s natural acidity. Be assured, this is special-occasion territory without a doubt. Service glides with easy professionalism. The conservatory dining room is comfortable. Sommeliers are attentive. This is helpful given the scope of the wine list, which proudly celebrates France before heading, for example, to Austria for Martin and Anna Arndorfer’s minerally Riesling or to cool-climate Patagonia for Bodega Noemia’s smooth biodynamic Malbec. The four-glass paired flight is £95 at lunch; for those with unfathomably deep pockets, the £999 ‘sélection exceptionelle’ (£799 at lunch) includes Burgundy winemaker Cecile Tremblay’s magnificent 2015 Chambolle-Musigny Premier Cru, Les Feusselottes.

Australian chef Skye Gyngell (the driving force behind Spring in London's Somerset House) has been in charge of this grand Georgian mansion's culinary direction since 2021. Sustainability isn’t just a buzzword at this rural haven, it’s at the root of everything the hotel does – from being entirely plastic-free to establishing a certified organic livestock farm and biodynamic market garden, which supply the house and its two restaurants (Marle and Hearth). As a result, the chefs are able to work directly with farmers to sustain a productive connection and collaboration between field and kitchen.

Marle, the larger and more sophisticated dining option, comes with muted decor enlivened by a generous dose of greenery. The concise menu is based almost entirely on what is grown, reared or caught in the surrounding area – apart from the tang of winter citrus (Amalfi lemons or pomelos, perhaps) and judiciously sourced artisan produce with serious pedigree (San Daniele ham, seasonal British cheese and impeccably fresh seafood).

Italian accents offered welcome warmth and vivacity during our visit, with standouts ranging from an artfully composed starter of silken tortellini filled with cime di rapa, potato and Taleggio (pitch-perfect seasoning amplifying the flavours) to a main course featuring monkfish with pancetta, soft white beans, gently bitter radicchio and tomatoes. We were also blown away by a superlative serving of pork belly with celeriac rémoulade and lentils braised in red wine, while a flawless slice of rhubarb tart provided the perfect finish.

As you’d expect from a hotel of this calibre, the wine cellar is extensive. Head sommelier Arnaud Dolmazon, formerly of the Fat Duck, has amassed an outstanding global selection of offbeat gems alongside vintage classics, and ensured that there’s plenty by the glass and carafe. It’s also worth noting the excellent-value, three-course Sunday lunch.

Its roots may stretch back to the time when Henry VIII was reinventing the English Church, but Grade II-listed Moor Hall is now at the pinnacle of present-day hospitality, thanks to a stunning renovation. Here you will find a light, contemporary dining room (all clean lines, glass walls and thoughtfully considered detailing), plus glorious guest rooms, and a meticulously maintained kitchen garden that's always worth the tour – unless the weather is particularly grim. Indeed, that tour forms part of what we can for once call 'the journey', in that it is a staging-post on a canapé trail that starts in the lounge and ends in the kitchen, amid a whirl of activity from one of the most talented brigades in the land led by Mark Birchall. ‘His passion and drive are there for all to see,’ notes an admirer, and his startling culinary conceptions are brimming with imaginative panache. Expect a succession of multiple small courses that rarely miss a beat, while surprising and captivating even those already familiar with the style. A dinner that opens with a melt-on-the-tongue ‘flying saucer’ of puffed black pudding filled with gooseberry purée means business. By the time you arrive at your destination table, an oyster with white beetroot, dill and buttermilk might well turn up to greet you. Reporters often say it is nigh-on impossible to pick out highlights from the seasonally changing repertoire, but let's mention the richest, silkiest and most decadent mouthful of cod roe, chicken and chervil with a hint of salty/briny caviar, accompanied by beautiful-looking biscuits pressed with flowers from the garden. For some readers, fish is the undoubted highlight: a supremely delicate Mull scallop is brought to earth with asparagus and the merest suggestion of truffle, while a booming, deeply flavoured mussel and roe sauce shines the spotlight on a pairing of turbot and salsify – simplicity and richness taken to a world-beating new level. Superlative meat dishes have ranged from Spoutbank Angus beef (aged for 60 days) with BBQ celeriac, mustard and shallot to a startling plate of sika venison from Dorset with kale, beetroot, elderberry and some of the liver, dressed in whey and truffled honey. Desserts are often voguishly fragrant (woodruff, birch sap and marigold lending their scents to an apple and gooseberry assembly), while the ice cream suffused with Ormskirk gingerbread (a fine old Lancastrian speciality) is an essay in how to be luscious and spiky at the same time. As one reader observed: ‘Every taste and detail in every course is perfection.’ Some have felt that the wine flights are not quite as imaginative as they might be, and wine service could sometimes be more engaging (an odd tendency when there is such an authoritative and extensive core list to choose from), although everything will be right with the world once the fabulous array of petits fours arrives to give you a send-off back in the lounge.

On paper, this rustic restaurant starts at a disadvantage. Located at the back of an old greenhouse in a plant nursery, with dirt floors and wobbly old tables and chairs, you might wonder what all the fuss is about. Add to that, the difficulty of getting there: it's a decent half-hour walk from Richmond station or a tidy step from the closest bus stop; arriving by car is actively discouraged. But everyone is beguiled by the sheer style and beauty of a place that is brilliantly and artlessly filled with rustic antiques, flowers and foliage. Sit among the urns and furniture in winter; on warm summer days, the whole restaurant is transported outside, where guests dine in a vine- and wisteria-covered courtyard redolent of a Tuscan garden. The Italian-led kitchen, which trumpets sustainability and its affiliation to the Slow Food Movement, uses the nursery as a source of herbs and lettuces, but has access to produce from an related farm in Sussex, while fish is from Cornwall and Italian specialities come direct. Expect clean, fresh flavours and beautiful presentation: carpaccio of monkfish dressed with crème fraîche and chilli has wild fennel and borage petals scattered across it; slivers of artichoke are first chargrilled before the addition of capers, parsley and great chunks of crumbled Parmesan. A sirloin of organic beef from Haye Farm in Devon will be simply grilled and served with a spiky rocket salad; salmon might be salt-baked and accompanied by samphire and spinach. Portions are generous, which makes puddings a little superfluous – although the likes of peach trifle and panna cotta are not the kitchen’s strongest point anyway. Really hungry visitors will do better with the succulent, crunchy garden fritti as an accompaniment to their bellini aperitif rather than saving themselves for the last course. The stiffly marked-up wine list is Italian by inclination – though with a touch of English or French where appropriate.

‘This is how summer dining should be,’ thought one visitor. Indeed. Deep in the Wiltshire countryside, Pythouse's billowing flower gardens and warm walls embrace the old lean-to conservatory that acts as a dining room. Geraniums and little lemon trees juggle for windowsill space, blinds shade from the sun, and doors are open to the breeze. It’s an easy place in which to pass a few hours – especially when your table is filled variously with good things, prepared simply, mostly over fire. Bouncy, chewy potato bread with garlicky fava-bean houmous drizzled with rapeseed oil and a gathering of pickled veg nudges the appetite. The garden dictates culinary proceedings, with preserved ingredients lifting flavours here and there. A June outing brought treasures aplenty: miso-braised hispi cabbage with wet garlic; slow-cooked tomatoes with wisps of pickled rose petals and herb oil; roasted beets with smoked cream, fig-leaf vinegar and the toasty crunch of puffed quinoa. What’s not grown on site comes from nearby: wild venison from north Somerset; pasture-reared beef from a small family farm in the impossibly romantic-sounding hamlet of Nempnett Thrubwell; chalk stream trout (served with asparagus velouté). Gorgeously tender lamb (cooked pink) is a highlight, with a wilt of fermented wild garlic giving sharpness and roasted cauliflower purée adding a savoury note. To finish, fresh strawberries tumble against the 'Milk Bar's crack pie’ – a chewy, treacly, biscuity tart topped with thick, whipped Jersey-milk Ivy House cream – while bitter notes temper sweetness nicely in an espresso caramel with a Pump Street chocolate mousse. To drink? Yes there’s wine, but this is the home of Sprigster, the botanical shrub that surely refreshes parts no alcohol can truly reach.

Dating from the 19th-century and surrounded by 240 acres of Sussex gardens and woodlands, Italianate Grade II-listed Leonardslee House is now home to a distinctive and elegant fine-dining restaurant with rooms. Here, Jean Delport and his team forage for ingredients, though the chef also looks to his South African culinary heritage, which lends a very distinctive flavour to his 16-course ‘Estate Experience’. Slices of biltong formed part of our array of canapés served in the bar, alongside breadsticks glazed with homemade ‘Marmite’ and topped with a refined version of slaphakskeentjies (a South African onion salad with a cooked egg and mustard dressing).

A first course of lobster with cauliflower and kombu-washed Exmoor caviar, served with a glass of excellent Blanc de Blancs from Leonardslee’s own vineyard, was almost upstaged by the accompanying vertoek – an ethereally light, savoury doughnut finished with lardo and crispy pork skin. The mosbolletjies bread course was a highlight. Made with wine must from the vineyard, the traditional anise-flavoured brioche-like loaf was served in a mini cast iron casserole with home-churned butter ceremoniously melted tableside in a pan into which biltong spices, mushroom garum, red-wine onions and herbs from the estate were added.

‘Rabbit eats carrot’ showcased another estate ingredient in an impressively elaborate signature dish of many parts: a terrine of rabbit, duck liver, pork and rabbit jelly sandwiched between wafers of 'feuilles de brick' pastry, paired with carrot mayonnaise; buttermilk- and vodka-marinated deep-fried rabbit leg, presented in a smoke-filled cloche; pastry boats of confit rabbit and chilli jam, topped with rabbit mousse, cured egg yolk and marinated carrots. The dish was completed with crisp carrot 'leather' tartlets filled with rabbit offal and presented on a moss-topped log from the garden – a bravura exhibition of culinary technique and nose-to-tail cooking that was a delight to eat.

There were a few hiccups during the three-and-a-half-hour marathon, but despite the extended duration, the pace of the meal never flagged and the service remained engaged and genuinely friendly throughout. Each course was accompanied by an information card, a clever way to avoid overly long dish descriptions at the table. Wines from Leonardslee and sister South African winery Benguela Cove offer particular value on a varied and interesting list where two-thirds of the bottles are priced at less than three figures – a pleasant surprise given the ambition of the restaurant.

‘What a place!’ exclaimed one reporter after visiting Grantley Hall – a vision of unabashed Palladian opulence set in impossibly manicured grounds complete with water features, sculptures and immaculate flower beds. Inside, lofty ceilings, sumptuous drapes and chandeliers come as standard, while staff glide around effortlessly, attending to your every whim. 

Shaun Rankin’s self-named restaurant fits these surroundings like a velvet glove, and the dining experience is refined to the nth degree from the moment you are cosseted in the drawing room, sipping fizz and nibbling on superlative home-cured charcuterie. Then it's a move to the adjoining dining room for a multi-course menu full of intricate detailing. Ingredients are of the highest order, execution never falters and flavours are exquisitely harmonious throughout – it's a cavalcade of delights, although the standout bread course served with whipped bone marrow, dripping and instantly addictive 'beef tea' shows that Rankin is still true to his roots. 

Elsewhere, his homage to lobster involves the whole beast: the tail poached in smoked lobster butter, the claw in a separate glass bowl with sea purslane and samphire, doused in a rich, decadent bisque made from the crustacean’s head. Or how about a serving of ‘spoonably tender’ Yorkshire-reared wagyu short rib topped with tongue, beef tartare and peppy lovage, with a glossy peppercorn sauce. Seasonal pickings also have their moment – as in Thirsk asparagus served with lamb’s sweetbread, stuffed morel and a buttermilk/wild garlic sauce or a summery dessert involving strawberry, marigold and yoghurt. 

Thoughtful drinks pairings contribute a great deal too, especially the carefully considered ‘soft’ options – we're sold on the citrussy mix of cold-pressed apple juice, pomegranate and sorrel infusion. Wines are an equally adventurous bunch, from an Iranian Irdabama made with the indigenous Samarghandi grape to a 2023 Tannat 'Atlantico Sur' from Uruguay. Of course, all of this comes at a high price.

There are plenty of reasons to linger in this cosy all-year courtyard garden right at the heart of the Corinthia London hotel. Beautifully sheltered, shaded and planted, it cuts a real dash in summer but come winter a mix of sofas with blankets, two fireplaces and plenty of heaters make this a comfortable and elegant destination whatever the weather. Among the all-day food and drinks offering, expect Mediterranean airs in show-stopping main courses such as white asparagus served with a morel and artichoke casserole, wild garlic and fresh Parmesan, or a beautifully rendered, baked sea bass fillet with fennel, capers and lemon. Eggs Mimosa or beef carpaccio start things off with plenty of oomph, otherwise plump for just one dish – say a satisfying salade niçoise or a pizzette topped with Ortiz tuna, tomato, black olive and pea shoots. It’s all about good food, good wine – and cigars after 9.30pm – at prices that match the surroundings.

For many visitors, enthusiasm for this lovely 17th-century country house remains undimmed. As a member of the Pig Hotels group, the entire package appeals, including the chance of alfresco eating on fine days. Inside, the honeycomb of rooms and passageways feels convincingly special, informal but stylish with plenty of panelling, open fires and comfortable seats. Meals are taken in a conservatory-style dining room done up in the Pig’s trademark 'chic garden shed' style with bare tables, shelves of bottled produce and plants galore. The output of the open-to-view kitchen is testament to its championing of local and regional produce aided by a burgeoning kitchen garden and an emphasis on provenance. While much is made of local sourcing on the ’25-mile menu’, inspiration for dishes comes from wider-spread European roots, exemplified by snacks such as moreish pork belly croquettes, excellent venison and pork meatballs, and flavoursome beetroot houmous. Roasted courgettes with toasted hazelnuts and pesto, followed by basil and cavolo nero pappardelle, plump sardines from Folkestone market (with garlic butter and roasted shallot) and thrice-cooked chips proved to be good shouts at a late-August lunch. There’s a Kentish cheeseboard if a boozy G&T jelly topped with tangy lemon sorbet doesn’t appeal. Cocktails abound (of course), and the modern wine list includes Kentish names, with a sommelier on hand to give sound advice.

While Swinton Park’s main restaurant, Samuel’s, is as grandly Victorian as the rest of the turreted pile, the Terrace offers something more casual and more contemporary. Located in the same sensitively converted outbuilding as the hotel’s health club and comes with a neutral colour scheme, patio doors and a namesake terrace for fine-weather alfresco, plus a bar for well-made drinks in the evening. The menu deals in crowd-pleasing small plates to share (from 'garden and field, land and sea') as well as banquet-style feasting dishes, though after attempting with difficulty to divvy up an oblong of pork croquette among the table, we found the style of presentation lends itself rather better to three courses ordered individually. Either way, a plate of fried chicken with a gravy mayonnaise for dunking, cabbage slaw and baby gem (for a touch of greenery) should not be missed among the starters. To follow, an excellent fishcake comes topped with chunky tartare in a pea-scattered cream sauce, while a sweet-fleshed wedge of gammon gets a topping not only of fried egg but two crisp commas of pork scratching. None of this, admittedly, is particularly complicated, but it’s all made from decent ingredients, cooked with skill and elevated by elegant presentation: bangers and mash arrives as a pair of sausages with pomme purée and a frothy velouté-like sauce, while an essential side order of onion rings is stacked like a particularly delicious game of hoopla. There’s a children's menu, too – cod goujons, cheesy penne – while furry, four-legged family members are welcome in the bar (where the full menu is also served) and on the terrace itself when the sun shines.

*Executive chef Ricki Weston is now offering a three-course carte (£120) as a more flexible alternative to the £175 tasting menu.*

Approached via a long drive and obscured behind a high Cotswold stone wall whose gates swing magically open to reveal the beautiful manor house beyond, this opulent country house hotel boasts acres of landscaped gardens, a spa and two restaurants, of which this is the flagship. Executive chef Ricki Weston’s ambitious, boldly flavoured nine-course tasting menu is an all-evening affair, starting with an aperitif and a chat with the sommelier in the oak-panelled drawing room before moving on to a showstopping snack course standing at high tables overlooking the kitchen pass. The rest of the night is spent in the blandly tasteful dining room, which could perhaps do with a little less beige and a little more character to hold its own against the food. Weston and his team work in full view of the diners and may even serve some of the dishes, alongside the discreetly professional waiting staff. The kitchen pulls no punches, so expect intricate, highly technical creations made from the finest ingredients – caviar, truffles, lobster – and presented with flair and incredible attention to detail. The brief, unadorned dish descriptions give little away. ‘Scallop, crème fraîche, trout roe’ appears as a ceviche of sliced scallop on a crème fraîche mousse surrounded by a ring of pretty orange trout roe, micro herbs and tiny balls of compressed pear and cucumber that pop with freshness in your mouth. On a separate plate, home-baked Earl Grey sourdough and a bundt-shaped ring of malt butter complete the picture. ‘Potato, lobster, lime salt’, arriving as one of three starters, is a triangular lobster and potato parcel, dusted with lime salt and adorned with a tiny flower, its petals made of wafer-thin potato and its centre a glistening heap of caviar. Puddings are no less inventive: ‘75% chocolate, blackberry and yoghurt’ appears as a shock-headed chocolate ball with preserved blackberries hiding between shards of tempered chocolate that are drizzled with 25-year-old ice-wine vinegar; a serving of damson yoghurt ice cream rounds things off. The sommelier will guide you through the extensive wine list, which favours the Old World and includes an impressive number of British vintages. There is also a small but well chosen – and surprisingly reasonably priced – selection by the glass.

It takes a bit of finding, but persevere because this collection of farm buildings turned cosy café/deli/glasshouse restaurant is the very definition of quirky. Anchoring everything is a no-dig market garden and a herd of Saddleback pigs that provide year-round supplies for hyper-seasonal chalkboard menus and style of cooking that is firmly from the gutsy, no-frills rulebook (don’t miss the spicy Tuscan fennel sausages). The kitchen satisfies the coffee-and-cake brigade, Sunday brunchers and those in for something more substantial: in winter, that might mean puntarelle alla romana (with anchovies) followed by confit Worton goose with beluga lentils. Come summer, the place really delights – especially if you're seated outside amid the greenery.

When it's time to get out of town for a day, the Berkshire countryside looks most inviting. Coworth Park at Sunningdale, near the Ascot racecourse, is an imposing Georgian manor house in fondant white, part of the Dorchester Collection and home to a dining destination with a concept name and chef's signature. The room itself is on the anonymous side, done in placid russet and beige, but the culinary intelligence that powers it is irresistibly fresh and exhilarating. Adam Smith mixes his own culinary memories into a contemporary approach that looks to nature for its cues, with foraging on the estate backing up some premium supplies. The technical dazzle with which it's all rendered is astonishing.

The principal menu is divided into four sections: ‘pantry’, ‘larder’, ‘stove’ and ‘pastry’ – we might recognise these as canapés, starters, mains and desserts, but for the fact that there is nothing ordinary about what appears. To cue things off, there are nibbles that look to Asian takeaways for inspiration (a langoustine bun, Thai green crab etc), but also strike British heritage notes with an oxtail toastie and jellied Devon eel. When the first dish arrives, it reveals depths of unsuspected richness, as in a barbecued scallop with smoked roe and golden oscietra, with a top note of bright citrus adding dash. The main business might see a classy double-act of Cornish turbot and native lobster with textured cauliflower, salted grapes and truffle. An alliterative approach proves productive for a Hereford beef dish that comes with a tartare tart, tendon and tea. On the plant-based menu, things are sizzling when heritage beetroot meets three-cornered leek, morels and blueberries.

There is a signature chocolate dish for those who need their fix, incorporating sea salt, crème fraîche and cocoa nibs, while oabika (the cocoa juice concentrate made from the white pulp of the bean pod) goes into a more enterprising construction with macadamias, dulce de leche and lime. An array of ‘treats’ (like the petits fours they might serve in heaven) closes the deal with Jamaican Blue Mountain fudge, mandarin brandy baba, raspberry and Champagne jelly, and the like. The owners have amassed a  wine list to suit the surroundings, with a heartening emphasis on sparklers and still wines from across the southern English counties – although there are, of course, plenty of old-school classics too.