Our favourite restaurants with rooms for an autumnal escape
Published 08 October 2024

‘By far the best restaurant in Margate,' sums up many readers’ affection for Lee Coad and Charlotte Forsdike's tiny eatery with rooms – in fact, some are even happy to endure lengthy train rides for a taste of its friendly hospitality, reasonable prices and Rob Cooper’s dependable seafood cookery. All in all, it’s a crowd puller, expanding onto the pavement in fine weather and, in high summer, to a few tables across the road, where the daily changing blackboard is hiked from table to table, French bistro-style.

Expect intensely seasonal cooking built around regular supplies of ethically sourced fish. Every dish sings with flavour: a main course of monkfish, tomatoes and smoked cod’s cheeks in a rich, green-flecked sauce was an early summer revelation, while reporters continue to applaud the perfectly cooked skate enhanced by fabulous, meaty nuggets of ‘chorizo’ (made from fish offcuts rather than pork) in a rich sauce. To begin, you might consider mackerel with fennel and pickled gooseberries or something as straightforward as brown crab on toast – a seasonal treat. There’s always a vegetarian dish, while crowd-pleasing desserts include a popular flourless chocolate cake or fig-leaf posset with gooseberries and meringue.

The short wine list is packed with interest, offering classic fish-friendly and low-intervention tipples from England and coastal Europe. Angela’s gets regularly booked up, especially during the summer season; if you're out of luck, Dory's (their simpler, seafront sibling) is just a stroll away – and it holds back seats for walk-ins. 

Part of a delightfully restored Victorian swimming baths turned private lido, this glass-fronted first-floor restaurant is fairly described as ‘a magical setting’ (complete with views of aquatic scene). It’s a stalwart for local residents as well as visiting swimmers, who can dine as part of a package deal (a separate small-plates menu is offered in the ground-floor poolside bar).

Architect-designed, the decor is more or less unchanged since the venue opened in 2008, with block-print foodie photos adorning the neutrally painted back wall and polished wooden tables arranged on both sides of the long, thin room. The menu, too, hasn't veered far from the Moro-inspired Mediterranean course set by original chef Freddy Bird – his starter of scallops roasted in their shells with garlic butter and herbs remains ‘a constant temptation,’ according to one recent visitor.

Pash Peters is now at the helm, the influence of his Greek upbringing discernible in a main course of kakavia (a rustic fisherman’s stew involving monkfish, clams, potatoes, agretti and oregano), as well as some Hellenic entries on the wine list. Puddings include homemade ice creams and seasonal offerings such as poached peach with raspberries and double cream, which graced our early-summer visit.

Many of the wines on the predominantly European list are available by the small glass or carafe, with prices rising steeply from the good-value house options.

To ‘coorie in’ is an old Scots verb meaning to hunker in for protection. Nowadays it evokes a snuggled sense of cosiness – akin to the Scandinavian concept of hygge. For chef-owner Phillip Skinazi it's a clear statement of intent. This is a place to be welcomed, warmed and cossetted after a country ramble, a day of distillery tourism or even a wader-deep quest in the river Earn for elusive wild salmon. Decor picks up on the exposed solidity of the original 18th-century building, with a colour palette and ambience of rural landscape incorporating quirky features (a leopard astronaut portrait), alongside the standard stag's heads, proper fires and friendly informal service.

On the food front, classic culinary foundations are matched with more personalised touches to maximise local, seasonal ingredients. A wild venison tartare is satisfyingly rough-chopped, well-seasoned and paired with cured yolk and bone marrow, while scallops are perfectly caramelised to ensure sweetness against their brisk partnership of blood orange, fennel and chilli. Damsel Bakery sourdough and home-cultured butter effectively mop up any last morsels.

Butchery skills are evident throughout and Sunday roasts are rightly praised – perfectly rare local pork loin with hay-baked artichokes and a popping aubergine chutney achieves depths of flavour that exceed its apparent simplicity. There are plenty of wines available by the glass – with some good advice on less-common list inclusions – and of course, cocktails. After-dinner drinks also feature gems from the nearby Glenturret distillery.

* Fomer sous-chef John Shuttleworth has been promoted to head chef, following Adam Thackeray's departure to the Horseshoes at Longlane. Watch for a new review coming soon.*

Built centuries later than you might suppose from its leaded windows and formal gardens, Baslow Hall's heritage isn't entirely what it seems – but the hospitality of its restaurant is genuine. In this locale, it's long been the best address for a fancy feed, but there's no front-of-house ennui. The dining room, grand but fresh as a daisy in pale grey and blue, is a lovely spot in which to enjoy all the trappings of a country house restaurant, from bread with Lincolnshire Poacher butter (delivered with the gleeful mantra 'it's 3% salt!') to a supplementary course of grilled cheese with truffle – followed, of course, by something from the drinks trolley. Head chef Adam Thackeray knows how to make ingredients such as giant ceps (from nearby Ladybower) shine, adding the crunch of nigella seeds and an oozy barley risotto, with burnt lemon gel for contrast. The super-smooth curry sauce of the European kitchen is allowed to retain enough poke to work with stone bass, roast cauliflower and golden raisins, while for pudding there's anything as long as it's chocolate – the fruitier choice being poached pear with chamomile ice cream and creamy-light white chocolate namelaka. Staff know the dishes (and the extensive drinks list) well, and being one of their guests feels easy.

Llansteffan sits on the blue-green Tywi estuary, its ascending streets of pretty houses topped by a magnificent castle. Set at the upper end of the village, close to the church, the Inn at the Sticks covers many bases: bedrooms and a deli/wine bar in addition to the main pub/restaurant space. The setting is rustic in a stylish, uncluttered way, with quarry tiles and wood floors, exposed beams, brickwork and a couple of chunky wood burners.

‘Welsh sharing plates’ describes the menu (expect beef, lamb, cockles, faggots and excellent cheeses), although you might also encounter Asian sticky pork with pak choi, sesame seeds and crispy noodles, or sweet, gleaming Vichy carrots teamed with the breezy, lemony freshness of whipped feta and topped with almond and chilli crumb, basil gel and a drizzle of honey.

Astonishing flavours, colour and verve take this place far beyond normal pub fare although it never stints on the classics. The beef, beer and Perl Las blue cheese pie is on-point in every department, delivering a bounty of big, tender chunks of meat, a deep and dark savoury gravy, and a perfectly risen puff-pastry top. Other standout dishes include cockle popcorn – light-as-air batter, with a drizzle of homemade chilli vinegar and a punchy little pot of aïoli for dipping.

The bar stays high for desserts ranging from a beguilingly soft and gooey 'bara brith' sticky toffee pudding set on a butterscotch and tea sauce to a Welsh coffee panna cotta sporting a candied walnut crumb and a sleek caramel sauce. To drink, there’s an excellent choice of wines as well as beers.

You might think you’ve drifted into some idyllic Highland dreamscape as you catch sight of this reconfigured 18th-century ferryman’s cottage by Loch Fyne, with its adjoining boatshed, ospreys swirling around and ancient castle ruins looming in the distance. Inver can have that effect on people – and no wonder, given the sheer tranquillity of the spot and the owners' dedication to the craft of gastronomy. Pam Brunton (chef) and Rob Latimer have conjured something truly harmonious, attuned to the locality and utilising its seasonal bounty in wondrous ways. Buzzwords such ‘sustainability’ and ‘zero waste’ really do mean something here – just consider Pam’s ‘bread and butter broth’ (leftover sourdough ends soaked in an umami-laden brew with home-churned brown butter and yeast). Many ingredients are from the local terrain, the waters beyond Inver’s door and from a helpful band of artisan producers – including a horticulturally inventive, green-fingered neighbour known only as Kate. You can sample some of these delights from the lunchtime carte (a procession of seafood and game dishes) but dinner is the main event – a tasting menu of (nominally) six courses plus four opening salvos served on a tray in the lounge (a plump oyster anointed with sea buckthorn oil or a zingy ceviche-style pairing of razor clams and rhubarb, for example). Bigger dishes positively explode with local flavours – from a pairing of Loch Fyne scallops and langoustine with purple sprouting broccoli, tiny crispy potatoes and a sea-herb emulsion finished with blackcurrant-leaf oil to a four-part serving of organic pork (loin, collar, belly, sausage) with a pile of shaved celery and some pickled alexanders. Desserts are generally untroubled by fancy patisserie – slices of poached pear with a walnut and ginger ice cream, for example. It sounds like perfection, although feedback suggests that this highly personal set-up works best when the owners are in residence, overseeing every detail and bringing their ‘pared-back passion’ to proceedings. Even so, this is still a compelling venture with the bonus of an enlightened kids’ menu, ‘fancy’ homemade cordials and a compact but resourceful wine list. Accommodation is in comfortably appointed bothies and shepherds' huts, with breakfast goodies on the doorstep come morning.

Simon Rogan was awarded an MBE in the New Year Honours List at the end of 2023, which is some measure of the influence he has had on contemporary British dining. The nerve centre of the whole operation is still here, in a stone-built former smithy on a Cartmel road-bend, not far from its sibling Rogan & Co. The ambience has lost none of its rusticity, from the roughcast whitewashed walls and raftered ceilings to the anvil after which the place is named. The light, airy conservatory makes a fine spot for lunch. Smartly clad staff oversee a welcoming – and supremely professional – approach to hospitality, and the food does the rest. The kitchen mobilises a battalion of unexpected ingredients in surprising – even stunning – combinations, with textural notes to the fore as well as a clear focus on sustainability and regionalism. Among the appetisers is a fritter of Duroc pork and smoked eel on lovage emulsion with sweetcorn purée, an unimaginably delicious composition of flavours. There is also a pudding of Berkswell cheese coated in caramelised birch sap, tapped from a tree just a couple of miles away. A succession of plated dishes might include tiny pink fir potatoes cooked in chicken fat with pickled walnuts and an oil of burnt onion ash, while one of L'Enclume's signatures is the seaweed custard in beef broth and bone marrow, garnished with a house blend of caviar and Maldon oyster. Various vegetable-based specialties are always part of the menu, their seasonal freshness offset with powerful herbs and seasonings. As for animal protein, a pairing of John Dory and cuttlefish in pork fat with shrimp sauce, spinach and verbena might precede an outstanding dish of dry-aged Middle White pork in mead sauce with black garlic purée and pickled allium seeds, plus a pork-fat crumpet sitting on a hot stone to keep it warm. Textures go haywire in a serving of frozen Tunworth cheese topped with puffed buckwheat, lemon thyme crystals and gel, on a compôte of Champagne rhubarb. After strawberries and sweet cicely cream served in a ceramic pouch, followed by a miso-caramel mousse with apple (another L’Enclume signature), we concluded with an array of superlative petits fours – including a cornet of peach-stone ice cream with elderflower and white-chocolate ganache, and a tiny caramelised pear tart with a spot of herb oil. Wines by the glass are presented on an iPad, which you may want to keep by you as the menu progresses, but it's best to let the wine flights themselves take wing on a cosmopolitan journey around the globe.

Embracing the country house genre with charm, sumptuously sited Lympstone Manor boasts picture-perfect views across its own extensive vineyards to the Exe estuary, plus three gracious chandeliered dining rooms, luxe bedrooms, and a front-of-house team well-drilled in old-school 'silver-ish' service.

Where Lympstone parts company with tradition, however, is in the food. Michael Caines' cooking, with its roots in France and Britain, is a tantalising mix of classic and modern. His carte and tasting menus are deftly executed by head chef Jordan Denning and, while breaking new ground is not the game here, the cooking shows off superlative produce and gains vitality (as well as identity) via its use of sharp flavours to point up the main ingredients. A delicate nugget of warm Lyme Bay lobster offset by a mango and lime vinaigrette, cardamom, curried mayonnaise and oscietra caviar is a delightful interplay of sweetness and acidity, while salted cod with dabs of confit lemon, samphire, crabmeat and chorizo foam creates a multi-layered sensation.

Other revelations have been the straightforward pleasure of new season's Powderham Estate lamb – a gloriously flavoured rib chop – with pea purée, a dice of braised boulangère potatoes, balsamic-glazed onion and a glossy truffle jus. Similar contentment is to be found among the desserts, especially a delicate apple mousse with Granny Smith apple sorbet and vanilla foam.

As for the wine list, Lympstone Blanc de Blancs and rosé sparklers head up a stunning collection that is resplendent in quality and imagination for those with the readies. Fine wines by the small glass are a flawless bunch. It’s also worth noting that the Pool House overlooking the heated pool and vineyard sets a more informal tone, with a broadly appealing menu that aims for easy satisfaction.

Joshua and Victoria Overington opened Mýse (pronounced 'meez') in the summer of 2023. It's a converted inn snuggled in a sleepy North Yorkshire village, but with ideas that lift it way out of the country-pub norm. The name is the Anglo-Saxon word that denoted ceremonial dining at table, though that shouldn't lead you to expect a mýse-hrægel (tablecloth). Formerly head chef at Le Cochon Aveugle in York, Joshua leads a team that is single-mindedly dedicated to the principles of modern sustainable cooking, with foraging, fermenting, pickling and infusing high on everybody's skill-set.

Nibbles set the tone: Ripon roe deer in fermented plum sauce topped with smoked Exmoor caviar in a little charcoal tartlet; a hay-vinegared quail's egg on mushroom parfait; a twig brochette of ox cheek braised in ale, then deep-fried in Yorkshire-pudding batter – layers of flavour and stunning richness rolling out even before you have reached the dining room. An Orkney scallop is very lightly poached in sea-urchin butter and served in the shell on a bed of seaweed. The thrift principle extends to turning last year's squash seeds into a 'miso' which is used to garnish a soup of this year's squash, its texture firmed up with a little pumpkin-seed granola.

A crown of duck is introduced by being carried regally about the room, and now begins its culinary act. After a presentation of duck charcuterie with a crumpet of liver mousse, plus a richly spicy broth flavoured with walnut and orange, comes a thick slice of the breast served with game sausage, confit beetroot and black-walnut relish. A pair of desserts is interspersed with the petits fours, which makes them less of an afterthought than usual – the finale being a flourless fig tart with an ice cream of fig leaves from the garden. Overington himself comes to the table and fires up the dish with flaming Yorkshire rum, harking us back to the dear old flambé days of our gilded youth.

The food is matched by an excellent drinks list, which takes in inspired non-alcoholic sodas and kombuchas, imaginative cocktails and a decent selection of wines in small glasses, from a mere £5 for a quality Vinho Verde. Bottle prices ascend rapidly, but the choices are exceptionally good, through to a Georgian Saperavi and Peloponnese Agiorgitiko.

Yes, it’s in the middle of nowhere but ‘there are lovely quiet walks to be had and all sorts of secret places to visit’ if you’re taking a break at this utterly idyllic spot in the Shropshire hinterland. The sense of peace and tranquillity when you arrive is worth the journey. First stop is the bar, housed in an ancient timbered milking barn, where there’s a strong emphasis on local ingredients and suppliers – Ludlow and Herefordshire gins feature on the drinks list and there’s Hereford wine by the glass.

Lunch is for pre-booked parties of eight or more, while dinner is built around a short carte and a six-course taster featuring similar dishes, all served in the grand old dining hall (formerly a grain store). The kitchen sets out its ambitious stall with beguiling canapés of, say, beetroot mini meringues with goat's curd, ahead of the likes of Herefordshire beef tartare with cep curd and a beef-fat cracker or nori-cured mackerel with ajo blanco, lovage, grape and almond. Mains might feature local venison in season (perhaps served with chocolate, celeriac, pickled pear and a ragoût) or gilthead bream accompanied by Jerusalem artichoke, cannellini beans and sea fennel.

To conclude, there might be a new take on an old classic in the shape of a vanilla custard parfait with Yorkshire rhubarb and stem-ginger ice cream. Faultless presentation matches the impressive grandeur of the surroundings, while properly professional staff are eager to please. The drinks list includes plenty of keenly priced wines (from Tanners of Shrewsbury), and the place also serves afternoon tea seven days a week.

Now boasting a countryside setting to match the ‘wow’ factor of his cooking, Merlin Labron-Johnson’s second iteration of his wildly successful Bruton restaurant is already a proper destination. With four letting rooms now available, plus kitchen-garden tours and a purpose-built tea house in the pipeline, the ever-ambitious chef now affords guests the chance to immerse themselves in the wellspring of his farm-to-table philosophy: the British countryside and its abundant produce.

Looming stark and white in the green Somserset countryside, the new premises occupy a former country pub that has been both stripped back and dramatically extended. The plain walls and bare flagstone floor of the reception lounge, where aperitifs and the first amuse-bouche are served, give no clue to the architectural drama beyond. An almost theatrical space, the main dining area opens directly into the kitchen, housed in a giant glass box looking out across fields at the back. Ask to be seated here so that you can watch Labron-Johnson and his team calmly weaving their magic.

No menus are offered until the meal is finished, but your trust will be repaid by a series of snacks, palate cleansers, pre-courses and specialities that wring extraordinary flavour from the humblest of ingredients – just consider a limpid tomato tea with droplets of grass-green fig-leaf oil, or a clutch of French beans on a pillow of almond cream, accompanying lamb served three ways, each detonating like a flavour bomb in your mouth. Later courses might include a quenelle of melon sorbet in a delightfully refreshing pool of cucumber and shiso water with spruce oil, or churros with meadowsweet ice cream, blackberry compôte and surprisingly pungent marigold leaves. Optional supplements are also available, say a cheese course of Baron Bigod melted over fruit bread, topped with black truffle and drizzled at the table with honey from the restaurant’s own hives.

Excellent service comes courtesy of a small army of cheerfully enthusiastic and highly capable young staff who are happy to chat about suppliers they have visited or what’s growing on the restaurant's two organic smallholdings. The wine list has been greatly expanded, though it still focuses on low-intervention bottles from small producers. Wine pairings remain a good-value choice and are carefully explained by the charming sommelier. We suggest allowing several hours to enjoy the full experience, rounding off with a lazy coffee and digestif.

The Angel has been a fixture in the Guide for many a decade, surviving various culinary eras and changes of look. Its present incarnation, under chef-patron Michael Wignall (ex-Gidleigh Park et al), offers a smartly attired suite of three dining rooms – ours featuring polished concrete floors, lacquered oak tables and seating in soft grey leather. The aura of relaxed informality remains undented, and the view over the Dales is appetising enough, even if you haven't been hiking the long day through. Presented via a mixture of tasting menus and a carte, the cooking has, once again, acquired the innovative edge it had in days gone by. A delightful starter of tomato textures – fresh, cooked, dried and consommé – is served with lovage ice and basil. Even more fragrant is a serving of Shetland crab in buttermilk dashi with oscietra caviar, green strawberries and herb oil. To follow, guinea fowl is poached and sautéed to crisp satisfaction, teamed with roasted hen of the woods mushrooms and puréed corn, while lamb (and its tongue) arrive with a garniture of salsa verde shoehorned into a roll of lettuce, topped with anchovy crumb. Only desserts fell a little flat at inspection, but the incidentals – particularly the ingenious canapés – are all up to the mark. Wines by the glass start at a reasonable £5 for a small measure of a light Macabeo-Verdejo from Spain.

*Chef Nina Matsunaga has launched a new restaurant concept, Tsuchi, at The Black Bull. Look out for a new review coming soon.*

Geographically, Sedbergh is part of the Yorkshire Dales, although it sits on the edge of the Lake District. Something of that dual identity informs the layout of this revamped coaching inn, which accommodates two very different spaces with two very different personalities. To the left as you go in is the cosy, convivial pub room – our preferred spot – complete with a bar, equine paraphernalia, dried flower displays, bright red banquettes and fairy lights strung around the walls. Here you can sup local ales and get welcome sustenance from platters of home-cooked ham and artisan cheese, hot Herdwick lamb sandwiches, maple pea houmous or Mansergh Hall pork and kimchi stew.

To the right are the dining areas, the first being a dog-friendly antechamber, the second a sparser, more formal split-level affair. The menu highlights local produce but there’s a noticeable Asian bent to the more ambitious dishes: expect Howgill Hereford beef pie with seasonal greens alongside crispy Korean beef wrapped in a shiso leaf or pork belly in XO sauce with alliums. To finish, there might be an 'extremely savoury’ black-sesame panna cotta with basil oil and shards of sesame cracker. On Sundays, prime meat sourced from local herds is the kitchen's USP, accompanied by sides including treacle carrots.

Service is well-meaning, although it seems better suited to the pub side of things than the restaurant. However, the Black Bull’s drinks offer gets full marks, from unusually pleasing ‘softs’ including Zingi Bear (an organic ginger switchel) to fascinating sips from Slovakia, Slovenia and Serbia on the diverse, good-value wine list. A new outdoor bar and kitchen facility should add to the Black Bull's all-round appeal.

‘A fantastic place in the gorgeous countryside,’ is one fan's verdict on this bonny 17th-century thatched pub with rooms, reached down narrow wooded lanes. Renovated and reopened in 2017 by local landowners (the Phillimore Estate) and run by a team who also operate two nearby pub-restaurants, the Bottle & Glass has strong roots in the neighbourhood. Its two bars – one for drinkers (with real ale), the other uncommonly cosy (wood-burner, beams, chesterfield sofas and all) – take up most of the original building. In the rear extension are two new but sensitively designed dining rooms, with wooden flooring and modern art on white walls. In summer, the extensive grounds come into play, with wood-fired pizzas and an enormous, corrugated-iron 'burger barn' as options. On a late-winter visit, the very brief carte (steaks but no vegetarian main course) was outshone by an excellent-value fixed-price deal: £23 for three courses (and at least three choices per course) including a glass of house wine. Yes, robust flavours sometimes trump culinary finesse, but presentation is neat. A hearty bowl of ham hock ‘goulash’ with strands of meat, potato chunks and a large gherkin made an enjoyably rich, salty opener, while smoked mackerel pâté with dill sour cream was lifted by excellent home-baked soda bread. And if a main course of roast skate wing was a mite overdone, its accompanying Jerusalem artichoke velouté packed a pleasing punch. Local meat often takes centre stage: our stew of fallow deer (from the Phillimore Estate) complete with a pastry lid made a fine pairing with braised red cabbage – though sides of mash and kale gave welcome relief from the powerful flavours. Best pud? The apple strudel takes some beating: a plump, cinnamony oblong with light pastry and vanilla ice cream. The carefully curated wine list and first-rate service are further incentives to brave those rustic little lanes.

*Sally Abé (ex-The Pem) has been apppinted ‘head of food’, replacing chef George Williams who has left to join the Fat Badger in Notting Hill. Watch for a new review coming soon.*

The team behind Notting Hill's Pelican pub have branched out into the Cotswolds, but lest anyone get the impression that they have simply followed a well-heeled clientele out to their holiday homes, owners Phil Winser and James Gummer grew up around these parts and cut their drinking teeth in the Bull. The place itself has been standing on the corner of Sheep Street since Henry VIII was taking wives, and it retains an air of homeliness, with raftered ceilings, welcoming fires and the flicker of ecclesiastical candles. Staff are clued-up as well as boundlessly helpful, and it would be positively churlish to overlook the offer of soda bread and seaweed to start proceedings. Chef George Williams' kitchen draws on produce from its own nearby smallholding, and there are plans for the tending of livestock before too long. Dishes have that winning combination of accessible simplicity while being big on impact, resulting in starters such as trout with green tomatoes, plus an intermediate slate of vegetables and sides listed ahead of the mains. Consider a loaded vegetable platter for two, or salt-baked celeriac with green sauce, before setting about centrepiece platefuls with plenty of substance. Expect anything from beef rib for two or a pork chop with creamed chard to brown-buttered plaice, although we were particularly taken with the muntjac schnitzel. Fish specials and Sunday roasts turned on the spit add to the allure, while desserts could run from treacle tart to poached pear with meringue. An enterprising list of cask ales and speciality ciders competes with the adventurous wine selection (fleshed out with a weekly changing list of single bottles).

Along the narrows at the top end of Totnes, the Bull Inn is a flesh-coloured pub that has had the kind of makeover that makes over a million pounds look artfully like ten grand. Foliage entwines the rafters, potted plants loom in the corners, the bar frontage is done in jade-green, and an air of dynamic, but not oppressive, hubbub prevails. Organic and ethical credentials pour forth from both the portable chalkboard menus and the drinks list, where cask ales, cloudy shrubs and ingenious cocktails are the main lures. An extensive roll call of substantial starters is cause for celebration, with both roasted late Jerusalem artichokes in green sauce, and grilled early asparagus spattered with garlic and hazelnuts, on offer at our spring visit. A trio of venison koftas in thin cumin-laced yoghurt, sumac onions and honey proved to be a delightful way in. Mains bring a shorter choice of enterprising veggie dishes, an old-school bistro bavette in creamy mushroom sauce, or a hunk of (very slightly overdone) monkfish in the kind of buttery curry sauce that could have seen service on a bag of chips. For dessert, a complicated cake of chocolate and olive-oil mousse on pistachio sponge, dressed with Cognac-poached pear, coffee syrup and mascarpone filled to capacity the tiny tea-plate it was served on. Otherwise, resist if you can the Basque cheesecake with Earl Grey prunes. Wines are a little less than thrilling, but there is a reasonable selection in three glass sizes.

It may only be a few miles from the brash lights of Blackpool but this remodelled 17th-century coaching inn beside the tidal river Wyre is light years away in style and atmosphere. There are tranquil views of the Fylde plain across to the Bowland Fells, and restaurant tables overlooking the river are always at a premium – although there is much more to engage both eye and palate here.

To the rear, a small garden-courtyard, edged by a deli, gallery and jewellery shop, is festooned with painted bird houses, trees strung with coloured streamers and sequinned bunting. Inside, the decor is not so much quirky as idiosyncratic, with an eclectic collection of art and craftwork brightening up the bar and dining areas. It might not be to everyone’s taste but it’s fun and engaging.

On the whole, the food matches the setting, with a good selection of seasonal dishes served at wooden tables decorated with whimsical hand-blown glass mushrooms. The menu has serious French aspirations, and there's an emphasis on big, bold meat and game specialities such as local wood pigeon saltimbocca, braised pig's cheek tacos and grilled, stuffed lamb’s heart. Prissy it ain’t. The Gallic blow-out entitled 'premeditated gluttony’ needs to be ordered 48 hours in advance and features a ‘grands fruits de mer’ platter that has been described as ‘the best we have had anywhere in Britain or France.’

Concepts are contemporary but avoid falling down too many ‘creative’ rabbit holes – although on our latest visit it was the small things that let the side down (salty and oily potted hot-smoked trout, for example). Our daily fish special, however, was memorable: line-caught wild sea bass from Morecambe Bay, served with vegetables from the garden and a delicate lemony sauce. For afters, the choice might include banana parfait choc ice with hazelnut praline and goat's milk caramel or a ‘croissant’ bread and butter pudding embellished with roasted peach, while the enterprising wine list is noted for its global spread, fair mark-ups and by-the-glass selection.  

Dispensing big-city hospitality across four floors of an East London townhouse, this urban hostelry with sociable add-ons takes its name from the 17th-century botanist, physician and astrologer, Nicholas Culpeper, who lived nearby. For many, the heart of the action is the ground-floor ‘pub’ with its huge heritage windows, dangling light fittings, well-worn parquet floors and distinctive horseshoe-shaped bar – the perfect backdrop for supping local real ales, herb-infused cocktails and fairly priced Old World wines.

Moving upwards, the first floor is home to an airy restaurant dealing in full-flavoured seasonal dishes with broadly European overtones. House pickles, baguettes (from the Snapery East bakery) and Jersey butter set the scene for starters of wild garlic velouté or pig’s head and pistachio terrine with cornichons and Dijon mustard. Hearty, homespun flavours also characterise mains ranging from chicken leek and bacon pie or venison bourguignon to haddock with beurre blanc and fennel, while massive pork tomahawk steaks and côte de boeuf await those wanting to share. Desserts celebrate the Anglo-European classics, from crème brûlée and chocolate fondant to sticky toffee pudding with caramel sauce and Chantilly. Cheese lovers should also check the blackboard for the line-up of artisan Francophile specialities. On Sundays, ‘incredible roasts’ are served all day in both the bar and restaurant, although you must book ahead. 

At the very top of the building is a rooftop greenhouse housing a 10-seater private dining space, while the adjoining urban garden (open from May to October) is used for growing and harvesting organic herbs, fruit and vegetables – all driven by an ‘admirable sustainable ethos’.

Sam and Georgie Pearman continue to build on their reputation for creating cool, country house-style inns. At the former Plough, a substantial, stone-built 17th-century pub in a bucolic west Oxfordshire village, they have got it right from the start, providing all the warmth, atmosphere and chic rusticity you could wish for – with positive, approachable service and a keen eye for seasonality added to the mix. The Duke is a strong draw even on the bleakest of midweek nights. Local families come for a pub meal in the large, woody bar area (well-stocked with local ales), couples head for a table in the dimly lit, intimate dining rooms (perhaps by a smouldering fire), and friends chew the cud under venerable beams and portraits in oils – or sit on stools at the chefs’ counter by the open kitchen. Unless, of course, it’s a warm summer’s day, when the garden terrace is a magnet. The same menu is served in the bar and restaurant. A recent spring meal began with snacks in the bar (goat’s cheese, wild garlic and honey flatbread; wood-fired aubergine and miso dip) before moving to the dining room for Evesham asparagus with sheep’s yoghurt and pistachio followed by wood-fired cod with smoked velouté, baby gem, peas and broad beans. Elsewhere, readers have praised a well-flavoured little portion of tender beef tartare under a mound of Parmesan, as well as a mouth-wateringly succulent log of (boneless) bacon ribs, neatly matched with a tangle of crunchy, shaved fennel slaw. Steaks are a forte and appear in various guises, including hefty 1kg porterhouses for £95. Our visit ended on a high note with a forced Yorkshire rhubarb pavlova with blood-orange curd (an expert balance of sweet and zesty). The drinks list offers plenty of joy – from a varied, mostly Old World wine selection (including English labels and ample by-the-glass options) to house cocktails, bottled English ciders and even a couple of meads.

Part of Charles and Edmund Inkin’s 'Eat, Drink, Sleep' trilogy – which also includes the Gurnard’s Head and the Old Coastguard in Cornwall – this ever-popular pub with rooms is, in many ways, an archetypal dream of a country inn. It transports you to a half-imagined heyday of fireside sofas, knobbly brickwork, low beams and quarry tiled floors, with craft ales at the bar and fresh, home-cooked food buoyed up by produce from the kitchen garden.

For all its heritage vibes, the Griffin is also a slick, modern operation, with polished service and a properly cheffy kitchen (headed by Gwenann Davies). Her repertoire includes traditional ideas such as broccoli and Stilton soup or lamb rump with faggot, peas and red wine gravy alongside more contemporary dishes – perhaps a sticky glazed BBQ short rib with sweet, spiky kimchi, luscious sriracha mayo and fresh herbs, ahead of pearly, crisp-skinned hake with a crunchy, breadcrumbed crab and chorizo cake, set on an intense, velvety, red pepper purée.

Each dish is carefully considered, right through to dessert. A voluptuous white chocolate mousse with berry ice cream, fresh raspberries and crunchy, bittersweet honeycomb provided a satisfying end to our most recent visit. Sunday lunch is an ultra-traditional feast featuring meat from the lowland hills, greenery from the garden and plenty of homely touches. In addition to real ales, drinkers can pick from a fair-sized wine list that has been annotated with personality as well as knowledge; the numerous options by the glass are well worth considering. 

One of the smallest towns in England, well-heeled Stockbridge is charming – and the ancient Greyhound is the perfect inn to match the surroundings. From the mind-your-head beams, wood burners in inglenooks, bare wood floors and tables to the evening candles, soft lamplight and a please-all menu, there’s plenty to entice. Its location – the front overlooking the broad High Street, a garden at the back by the Test (Hampshire’s finest chalk stream, complete with half a mile of fishing rights) – is a prime draw whatever the season, visitors coming for food that comforts rather than challenges. In the kitchen, Phill Bishop looks to the locality for ingredients but also mixes up influences in a true modern British way: New Forest asparagus tart with cashew-nut houmous and avocado rubs shoulders with cured Test trout and scallop ceviche served with rhubarb, elderflower and pickled ginger, or there could be new-season lamb cutlets with crispy cannelloni, artichoke, wild garlic and glazed carrots. To finish, poached pineapple with coconut biscuit, lime purée, mint, rum and coconut sorbet makes a big closing statement. Welcoming, efficient staff are dedicated to doing things well. In addition to the carte, the prix fixe is particularly good value, as is the serviceable list of mainly European and English wines, which starts at £24.95. 

Some pub restaurants flatter to deceive, with fancy menus that don’t deliver. Others offer a short repertoire of dishes that transcend expectations. The Howard Arms is of this second happy breed – and some. A handsome and venerable Cotswold hostelry, it is well-used by locals who gather in the bar to sup pints of local ale. Up a few stairs is the restaurant, which provides decorum as well as conviviality (note the old pictures of country scenes, all fashionably decorated with allium seeds in November). 

Chef Chris Ellis (formerly at the Killingworth Castle) has produced a brief menu that has space for the classics (burgers, fish and chips) as well as more elaborate dishes. Choose the latter and you’re unlikely to be disappointed. For us, a thick chunk of pork belly set the tone: luscious fat, crisp skin and tender meat, accompanied by mouthwateringly tangy homemade brown sauce, plus crunchy rémoulade and a mound of flavoursome black pudding. To follow, a perfect, plate-filling lemon sole was cooked with split-second accuracy on the bone and matched with an abundance of potted shrimps, samphire and new potatoes in a pool of butter. Meat-based mains more than pass muster too, judging by an equally generous portion of juicy duck breast with Puy lentils and beetroot.

To round things off, an exemplary apple and blackberry crumble with custard was zesty, crunchy and creamy in all the right places. The concise wine list provides admirable back-up, service is informative and friendly, and prices are moderate for the Cotswolds. What’s more, Sunday lunch receives special acclaim for ‘melt in the mouth’ meat, a ‘great veggie option’ and (our favourite) ‘unlimited gravy’. How civilised.

The village of Kilpeck is now famous for two things: it boasts 'England's most perfect Norman church' (according to Simon Jenkins) and is also home to this hostelry with rooms, once a fairly grand cottage fashioned with stones from the destruction of a nearby castle during the Civil War. The cottage became an inn some 250 years ago, and now refreshes the weary traveller in ways the Georgians could scarcely have guessed. Chef Ross Williams works with the grain of fine seasonal materials, partnering Wye Valley asparagus with a 'houmous' of white beans and a drizzle of hazelnut pesto. Textural and temperature counterpoints add gloss to a serving of scallops and cauliflower with black pudding and dabs of apple purée. Classic European technique can be impressive, as in a pitch-perfect rendition of risotto primavera, while thoroughbred meats might include pork tenderloin rustically stuffed with nettles and sage, served with fondant potato, summer kale and a regionally unimpeachable cider jus. For a fish dish such as sea bream, the supporting roles might be taken by monk's beard and wild garlic gremolata. Nor will you be disappointed if you've come to the pub expecting a burger: there's a half-pounder in a brioche bun with bacon, cheese, apple and fennel slaw, plus rosemary-salted chips. An aromatic theme runs through desserts ranging from gooseberry and elderflower crumble with lemon and elderflower sorbet to raspberry and thyme crème brûlée. Sunday lunchers are happily regaled with beef topsides, pork bellies and chicken suprêmes. The drinks offer is as stimulating as the food, with local ales and ciders, Welsh whisky, Gun Dog gin, and a small but good choice of wines.

What might once have been the rectory of the euphoniously named village of Slaggyford has been a hostelry since Victorian times. Outdoor tables will be a definite summer lure to hikers on the nearby Pennine Way, but the considered transformation of the Kirkstyle Inn into a modern dining pub with rooms seals it as a valuable regional asset. Nick Parkinson (formerly of the Royal Oak, Paley Street) was persuaded to forsake the embrace of Berkshire for these wilder environs by an enterprising property developer, but the new home feels like a perfect fit. The cons, including fitted wine shelves, are all definitely mod but the makeover doesn't seem ersatz; the flagstone floors are undisturbed and, most importantly, the kitchen is off and running. A starter of North Sea crab, peas and chopped fermented asparagus was a bravura dish, the various green elements in perfect balance with the creamily dressed, fresh crustacean. Elsewhere, loose-textured duck liver parfait was offset by the sharpness of blackberries and the textural snap of granola. An aspirational main course of halibut, which came with beurre blanc cut with fragrant dill oil, plus a mishmash of brown shrimps, chanterelles, pickled grapes and samphire, turned out to be a safer wager than the more prosaic fish and chips; alternatively, you might opt for breast and confit leg of guinea fowl with crushed potatoes, morels and leek. To finish, rhubarb and pistachio crumble with rhubarb sorbet was pleasantly tart and fresh, while cherries and almonds offered inspired contrasts to a dark chocolate crémeux. Drinking is a particularly happy experience, especially as prices begin at a mere £3 for a small glass of Chilean Merlot. Even the 'classed growth' claret and white Burgundy are offered at prices that will have city types green with envy.

The venerable Merry Harriers is to be found in the village of Hambledon (not the Hampshire one) near Godalming, a rural enclave set in a buffer of fields and woodland. It has been kitted out to suit the modern mood, with a soft green colour scheme and bentwood chairs at unclothed tables, plus candlelight in the evenings and fires in winter. A menu that exhaustively lists all the kitchen's and cellar's local suppliers inspires confidence, and the food is just what country-pub aficionados want to eat, with plenty of praise lavished on the Sunday lunch offer – a choice of ‘impeccably cooked’ roast platters, piled high and designed for two to share.

On the regular menu, lightly horseradished smoked mackerel pâté might compete with Trenchmore Farm beef tartare and plum ketchup, before mains take flight with some more adventurous ideas. Pork chop with sweetcorn, girolles and pickled walnuts delivered an impressive array of flavours when we visited, the superlative quality of the meat shining forth; a pheasant schnitzel with pickled red cabbage and pink firs was almost as good, although it needed a little more in the way of lubrication than an evanescent suggestion of beurre noisette. A fish option could be baked hake in bouillabaisse with saffron-scented fennel, while pumpkin and spelt risotto with hazelnuts, sage and chilli provides robust sustenance on the vegetable front. 

At the sticky end of things, everybody will feel spoilt by the likes of gingered-up sticky toffee pudding or a version of knickerbocker glory that finds room for chocolate mousse, candied orange and bits of homemade brownie. There's an impressive varietal spread on the carefully compiled wine list, ascending to the majesty of a mature classed-growth St-Émilion at a fraction of what you would pay in the not-too-distant capital.

*Elly Wentworth (previously head chef at The Angel) has been appointed as executive chef overseeing The Millbrook Inn and Fowlescombe Farm from 1st July 2025.*

In 2021, new owners gave the Millbrook Inn a much-needed makeover, but thankfully the refit has been done with restrained taste and the place still retains its identity as a local pub in a pretty south Devon village. There's a spruced up outdoor terrace with parasols, a pair of new holiday cottages across the road for tranquil getaways, and an extra dining space on the upper floor, where spindly old rafters and a paper globe lantern set the tone. 

Better still, the menu is now buttressed with organically produced rare-breed meats from the family farmstead (Fowlescombe) and the cooking is now in the experienced hands of Tom Westerland (ex-Gilpin Hotel in Cumbria), who is nudging the Millbrook in the direction of destination dining. Look at the precision and quality in a starter of pickled and salted farm cucumber with miniature cucamelon, sheep's curd and mint, or the savoury indulgence of beef carpaccio adorned with truffled horseradish cream and crispy capers.

Dressed Salcombe crab is every bit as fresh and toothsome as is proper, although it could do with a little more of the gribiche and farm herbs that partner it, while the Manx Loaghton hogget (cut into thick chops) is sensational, its fatty fringe blistered, the interior rosy-pink, sauced with its own jus at the table and accompanied by surprisingly delicate charred spring onion and courgettes. The day's fish is done in the charcoal oven and presented with smoked potatoes and samphire in caper-strewn brown butter.

Afters might offer bitter chocolate tart with raspberry sorbet or buttermilk panna cotta with strawberries and elderflower, but the sticky toffee crowd isn't ignored. Fans also say that Tom Westerland's Sunday lunch is ‘absolute perfection’, with superb meat, copious quantities of veg and other traditional accompaniments. In the drinking stakes, South Devon beers and ciders are given a spotlight of their own, while the adventurous wine list reaches for the stars, with glasses starting at £6.80 for a light Lisboa red.

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.

‘From the moment you walk in until the moment you leave, you feel relaxed and happy, the decor is fantastic, and the service is perfect: attentive but not over-bearing.’ Welcome to the Rose – a great dining pub pursuing smart technique and quality ingredients in an atmosphere of scuffed wood floors, vintage furniture, modern art and fashionable colours. Rivitalised by Christopher Hicks and Alex Bagner, it’s relaxed enough to cater for those who just want a drink in the bar or fancy taking advantage of the alfresco tables in the courtyard. This impressively skilful balancing act also comes with the bonus of splendid bedrooms and terrific breakfasts too. Nuno Mendes (Lisboeta et al) is a friend of the owners and helped to kick-start the menu, although chefs David Gadd and Luke Green have put their own stamp on proceedings, belting out a regularly changing line-up of sharply executed snacks and bigger plates all defined by a flavour-first approach to seasonal produce. There’s sheer enjoyment to be had from simple assemblies such as flatbread with fresh cheese and pickled wild garlic or razor clams with courgette and beach herbs. For something more substantial, consider roast rack of lamb with radishes and sorrel or a take on skate with brown butter also involving cockles and samphire. Round off with an ice-cream sandwich or rhubarb and frangipane tart. Inventive cocktails vie for attention with the concise, good-value wine list.

'In short, we love the place, and we love the people,' – a note from one happy guest captures the vibe at this appealing restaurant with rooms on Aldeburgh’s High Street, and others echo the sentiment. The ‘place’ in question is a handsome former coaching inn, transformed with a touch of class by owner George Pell who fell hook, line and sinker for the building and its surroundings during COVID. The ‘people’ include head chef Tom Payne, whose restrained touch with fine ingredients makes for delicious, uncomplicated eating. And how refreshing to be offered a straightforward carte with a couple of specials, something to share and some classic desserts rather than the prevailing 'taster' format.

Seafood beckons. Oysters from nearby Butley Creek require nothing more than shallot vinaigrette to spark the appetite, while scallops spend just enough time in the pan to get a good sear before bouncing onto a bed of buttered samphire – just add a spritz of lemon and a shard of salty bacon for a generous starter. A whopping brill (catch of the day) becomes a feast to share, seared on the Bertha charcoal oven and portioned tableside, while halibut en croûte is an elegant masterclass of fish and pastry cookery, the puddle of beurre blanc sauce zippy with dill and chives. Meat-eaters could be tempted by ultra-classic pork schnitzel Holstein (topped with an egg and anchovies) or a côte de boeuf to share (from Salter & King, the excellent butcher just over the road). Chips are a hot, salty, crisp must-order.

This kitchen takes no short-cuts with ingredients, and there’s no unnecessary faff on the plate. Nor is it a kitchen that sets out to challenge, because who needs that over lunch? A lemon tart couldn’t have been zestier, or you could try sharing an impressive tiramisu millefeuille. The compact wine list delivers familiar names and several by the glass (around £8), tempting at the top end with the likes of Bordeaux’s Left Bank winner, Château Palmer ‘Alter Ego’ 2009.

* Paul Green (ex-Driftwood Portscatho) has been appointed executive head chef to replace Scott Davies, who is now at the Old Manse of Blair in Perthshire.*

In the far north-west of Skye, on the shores of Loch Dunvegan, stands a whitewashed cottage – one of the most far-flung restaurants in Britain. Remote it may be, but down the years the Three Chimneys has earned an unrivalled reputation for fine cuisine, ever since Shirley Spear arrived in the mid-80s to cook the kind of homely food she liked to eat herself. Its reputation grew under chef Michael Smith (now at Loch Bay) especially when its starry clientele, with no enthusiasm for the long and winding road to Colbost, found they could land their helicopters on the edge of the loch. Chef Scott Davies followed Smith in 2015 and has maintained – and arguably improved – the restaurant's reputation. Using Skye’s superb produce, he creates light, refreshing dishes with flavours that ought not to work, such as his alder-wood smoked salmon with Bramley apple purée or – wait for it – pickled herring ice cream. Suffice it to say that they work superbly. He has abandoned the popular seafood platter but there is no shortage of fish on offer: oysters, scorched langoustines and oyster mousse; a soothing smoked haddock raviolo with mussel and horseradish velouté; halibut (reared on the Isle of Gigha in low-density inshore tanks) – a beautiful fish, served with brown shrimps, tender autumn vegetables and a side dish of smooth whipped potato with an umami hit of ‘bacon jam’ lurking in the base. It's not all fish, however: red deer is generously served with a faggot, sausage, dumpling and elderberry sauce; partridge is roasted with honey and spices; a crisp tart is filled with foraged mushrooms. It's a celebration of wonderful Scottish produce. Davies' cooking is technical and rigorous but never overblown. He keeps his flavours pure so that everything tastes of itself yet retains traces of the satisfying, homely cooking that was Shirley Spear’s hallmark. As for wine, expect an intelligent list of carefully chosen bottles with the emphasis on provenance, quality and terroir. The limited-edition Three Chimneys gin and Isle of Raasay whisky are also worth a punt. 

A picture-perfect pub that gets all the details right, the 'Welli' sets out its stall with a well-manicured garden, growing patches and a veritable barricade of giant shrubbery pots. Inside, there’s a charming clutter about the place, its red-tiled floors and black beams contrasting with details such as ornate butter knives, neat menus boards and stacks of homemade provisions. The kitchen takes ingredients and provenance seriously, and the menu is peppered with tags such as ‘HG’ (home-grown). ‘HR’ (home-reared) and ‘FR’ (free-range). The result is honest cooking, elevated by spot-on technique and an eye for detail. There’s always a soup to start (perhaps celery garnished with fried celery leaves), and the pub’s twice-baked Keen’s Cheddar soufflé is a triumph – wonderfully light and golden-brown, with the addition of creamy courgettes and a cloud of grated Parmesan. ‘Potpies’ are a fixture of the menu (Baughurst House roe deer, HR Jacob lamb), and the steak and kidney version is everything you could wish for with its beef-suet crust, tender braised meat and full-flavoured gravy. Otherwise, expect produce-led dishes ranging from chargrilled Dexter ribeye steaks or chicken Kyiv to baked lemon sole with brown butter, capers and wild garlic. Puddings are exactly that – calorific old-school comforters such as Bakewell tart, jam sponge or spotted dick (an excellent version with loads of golden syrup and the pub’s own vanilla ice cream). Service is relaxed, clued-up and full of smiles, with no faff or hyperbole. The house ale comes courtesy of the Longdog Brewery in Basingstoke, and the well-balanced wine list has some real treats at the top end.

Graham Garrett’s delightfully laid-back restaurant with rooms certainly has formidable staying power – it celebrated its 20th birthday in 2022. The 16th-century weaver’s cottage is fittingly discreet from the outside, warm, understated and beautifully timbered within, with affable service and a choice of fixed-price menus: diners can go ‘short’ at lunchtime (four courses) or ‘full' in the evening (five courses, plus cheese as an extra). Either way, the kitchen sets high standards with seasonally aware dishes demonstrating a solid understanding of classic techniques and enlivened by vibrant contemporary flavours.

Garrett’s fish supplies are spot-on for freshness and his timing is true – as in crisp-skinned wild sea bass offset by bittersweet caramelised endive and a ‘really savoury’ chicken sauce or skrei cod fillet with grilled baby gem and brown shrimp butter. As for meat, acorn-fed Ibérico pork ‘presa’ (a shoulder cut) is a favourite with the kitchen, perhaps served with celeriac purée and a slice of pickled quince. Following a palate cleanser, dessert proper might be baked rhubarb cheesecake with rhubarb sorbet and gingerbread crisp, although Garrett’s take on Bakewell tart is a ‘knockout’, with the thinnest, crispest pastry and a fig/almond filling.

The serious-minded wine list packs in a host of dependable producers, with plenty for the traditionalists while lifting the lid on a smattering of off-piste labels. Two dozen choices by the glass or carafe offer a tempting way in.