Under 40s will find it hard to believe, but dining out has not always been so in vogue. My childhood caught the end of the movie-going era. Any self respecting date was played out in the back row while some Woody Allen film droned on in the background. Nowadays, sharing a rib of beef and some polite chatter has replaced a silent and clumsy fumble in the dark. How times have changed.

So, if silver service is the new silver screen, why not turn a former cinema into a temple to new hedonism? The Daffodil, in the trendy Montpellier suburb of Cheltenham, has carefully, and extremely cleverly, avoided both kitsch and cliché in a fabulous piece of interior design that has retained the art deco character and soul of a local picture house, and yet made it a very pleasant space in which to dine.

The balcony has become a bar whose discreet booths overlook the stalls, which are now the dining floor. Focus is directed to the main event, the former screen, which has been opened up to reveal the pass.

There is also a small stage at the front which, on the Saturday we had lunch, was used to present a live jazz trio. A relaxed soundtrack to a silent but impressive matinée from the kitchen.

As good as the interior design is, and there is something new to appreciate every time you look up, like the chairs with half leather backs that brought traditional stalls seating to mind, it is not there to distract from the food. Dish of the day for me was a bang-in-season rhubarb trifle. But I could have picked the creamy spicy soup, the home made bread, or juicy pink lamb.

The wine list was pretty interesting. I’m a big fan of Michel Chapoutier and when his Crozes-Hermitage La Petite Ruche arrived too warm, the waiter plucked one directly from the cellar at exactly 16 degrees. It is a definite trend that UK restaurants are finally starting to pick up on the importance of wine temperature, despite blissful public ignorance. At £40 the multiple is a pretty steep 230% against an average retail price of around £12. And whilst I am wheeling out my wine markup bandwagon, with dessert, I ordered a glass of Muscat de Beaumes de Venise, only £3, but served in a 50ml measure – some people I know call that an eye-glass. But this is the only complaint I can find in an otherwise perfect easy afternoon scram. In any case, the Chapoutier is highly recommended with lamb, and the rich Syrah grape combined with a smooth vanilla finish was a perfect match for a parsnip soup combining the same creamy turmeric flavours. Made in the Rhone Valley at 13% ABV, its merits are not only spiciness but delicate and fragrant undertones. About as far from its cousin, the Aussie Shiraz blockbuster, as it is possible to travel.

The bill for two came to £121, which included three courses with a glass of champagne, a double Armagnac, a glass of dessert wine (smaller than the Armagnac), teas/coffees, the wine and service. Taken as a whole this is good value for one of the most pleasant afternoons I have spent in a long time.

The Daffodil
18-20 Suffolk Parade
Cheltenham
GL50 2AE
T: +44 (0)1242 700 055
F: +44 (0)1242 700 088
E: eat@thedaffodil.com
W: www.thedaffodil.com

The Star at Harome is just such a warming and friendly establishment but with the added bonus of being a restaurant that serves game, fish and fine wines. Oh and it has won just about every “best gastro pub” award going including, at one point, a Michelin star. It’s grouse season and I might just be in heaven. I am going to pay a celestial price too, £111 (a Nelson) plus service is more than a trifle in this part of the world.

Seated in the impossibly twee bar with ragtime jazz and opera inconveniencing the eardrums, the menu reveals my favourite game bird served in British Standard style – game chips, bread sauce, water-cress, redcurrant jelly. It being Yorkshire, a big bowl of duck fat roast potatoes and a mixed veg pan are added to the table. As a resident of God’s own county, and having been here long enough to know that Tykes rate their food primarily on quantity, I had anticipated this and exercised my right not to order a starter.

The game bird was a bit pissed off when I badgered her to chill my Fleurie (the cheapest Burgundy on the list was £54, which is a poor effort in grouse season) to drinking temperature. “I’ll put it in the fridge sir”, an ice bucket would be fine. But actually, erm, just rocks? Why is it so hard to get an ice bucket with a little aqua so it actually chills the wine?

The “young” grouse came without fuss although off the bone. I don’t think it was as well hung as one I ate at Le Café Anglais a couple of weeks ago. It was overcooked by comparison, and the duck fat roasties were not as crisp. But eating grouse looking out on the moor where it was shot adds a certain reverence and makes such preferences seem petty, especially when the shootist sat at the bar has just parked his Purdey near your table. And actually, grouse done medium has its own merits, especially in a rich gravy with whole tart redcurrants setting the saliva glands to ‘flush’.

A cheese board from the “British Isles” was extensive and impressive. Who needs French cheese? Cornish Yarg is always good in my experience, but a salty blue goat’s cheese by the name of Truckwell???? was my favourite of 4 random selections.

The 2009 Fleurie La Madone, a pretty rich £32.95 by the way, was a bit jammy, but of the redcurrant variety so went perfectly with the game. Not well matched to cheese though, so a glass of Austrian Trockenbeerenauslese (something the waiter was surprised I could pronounce) at £12.50, was the honey to the bee. Simply liquefied nectar.

A strange mix of genuine local farmers ordering a swift G &T on the way home, local ‘Lords’ desperately trying to dress in country house style, but looking more like they came from Del Boy’s manor, combined with random tourists, and a 60 year old bloke from Hampshire with his Dad, make for an eclectic but enjoyable craic. Yorkshire is a bit like France. You might not like the people but you have to love the way of life and this attracts outsiders by the coach load.

The Star at Harome is everything that’s good about Yorkshire, without the people. How did the South find out about this place?

The Star at Harome
Near Helmsley
North Yorkshire
YO62 5JE

T: +44 1439 770397
E: reservations@thestarinnatharome.co.uk
W: www.thestaratharome.co.uk

Take this Côte-de-Brouilly from Nicole Chanrion, which I got from the Wine Society for £9.95. There is full on fruit in a way that makes it hard to believe it is crafted from the Gamay grape, that in poor hands can taste of little more than Bazooka Joe with Cherry Coke.

By contrast, Chanrion has delivered an intense boost of full on fruit. Not so much lipsmackin’ as tonsil tingling and jowl jiggling. It’s a really good beans-on wine match (remember to use Branston Baked Beans if you are an adult).

The Wine Society looks to have left 2009 behind, in favour of the subsequent vintage. The good news is, 2010 is another super year for this lovable, reasonably priced, yet often overlooked region.

This Moulin à Vent, or to give it full title, Joseph Burrier, La Salomine, Château de Beauregard, Moulin à Vent, 2009, cost £14.95 from The Wine Society and is worth every penny. Blackberries, tart blackberries and sweet blackberries. Potent, yet refined and combining the youth and vigour of the Gamay grape with the middle aged maturity of nearby Burgundy.

Despite the 2010 hype, if you can still get hold of 2009 Bojo, I would stock a few away. I think most will keep improving for a couple more years yet. Meanwhile I am going to cover both bases and stock a case of each.

So let’s try to find their Henry IV moment – not dying majestically in battle but from a limp bout of debilitating psoriasis.

A bog standard own brand at the low end of the price range? Check. From the cheap as chips, rough and ready end of France, the Languedoc? Check. Come. Sharpen the knives. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown!

Erm, bit of a problem. Yet another great wine. Smooth vanilla cream and rich fruits of the forest. More lipsmacking than a Pepsi, and more layers of flavour than a Viennetta.

The one problem I do have is that this Corbières, at £6.95, is much tastier than many of the wines The Wine Society sells at twice the price, and in particular, the supposedly superior “Exhibition” range.

You can watch the venerable (but not so crusty) Simon Woods review the 2007  Corbières here…

So, having set a British & Commonwealth record for the longest opening sentence on a Confessions post, my mind turned to where I may have procured this very decent tasting bottle, and its pecuniary value, given that I (unusually for me) kept no record, nor scrawled any details on the label, and whether I was also going to set a record for the second sentence, and penultimate paragraph before I ran out of breath and all remaining readers had passed out, so I wantonly speculated that this was probably a £7.50 wine and turned to Lord Google.

It is rather nice, so I shouldn’t have really been so surprised to find it at Berry Bros.  They only have it In Bond (for delivery when?) at £130 per case which is just under £11, but normally one must add shipping and VAT, so maybe my estimate is out by a factor of two?  Hmm I might stretch to that for a couple of bottles, but the price does appear to have been influenced by a Parker rating of 88-90.

I’ve had a dabble with Château Musar recently, which reminded me that there is more than one barking mad wine in the world.  After One Flew Over the Lebanese Nest, I reckon that the Mourvèdres of Bandol would be next on most winos’ lunacy lists.  And Domaine Tempier is the rabid, mouth foaming chieftain o’ the Provence race.

Making wine predominately from Mourvèdre, a grape normally reserved for a cameo role adding a little kick to Bordeaux red varieties like the Cabernets, is a bit like making a dinner of sauce with no meat and no pastry. But, I suppose people do eat vegetable soup.

When I opened this La Migoua, carefully and naturally constructed from 40 year old vines, I smelt baked beans, or more specifically, Branston baked beans.  Ever since Douglas Blyde and Peter F May educated me in adult beanology (Heinz meanz kidz), I have been a total convert to the meatier, spicier and altogether bolder Branston brand.  Mind you, like soup, they go much better with a couple of slices of wholegrain toast.

On first sip, Tempier La Migoua is as tasty, dark and mysterious as a Naomi Campbell smile, and almost as sour. But it opens up to reveal charcoal, plums, tomatoes and thyme that make my mouth pucker and salivate like Nick Hewer overlooking some apprentices who are baking geniuses but have no hope of ever cooking the books.

Domaine Tempier La Migoua, 2006 I love you. You cost me 30 bloody quid from the Wine Society, I love the kooky label design but your website is virtually useless.  However, you go brilliantly with beans on toast and if that makes me barking mad, then send me the pills.

But beware, La Migoua is a big and jammy 14.5% ABV. Please don’t spend your good money on this woofer and serve it any warmer than cellar temperature (about 16 degrees).  You will not enjoy. Also, it does not go particularly well with Brie.

This Languedoc came from the Wine Society at £5.50.  So, it fulfils the “cheap” requirement.  When first opened, bitter damsons clogged my cheeks forcing a Vito Corleone face-pull.  Not wanting a horse’s head on my pillow, I allowed it to warm and drank on.  It developed nicely in a vanilla and cherry compote frenzy.

It is always going to taste a little cheap , D’Oh!…It is!  But it goes incredibly well with hummus (other spellings are available) and pitta bread, and it is much more fashionable to be seen with than the branded wines from the US and Australia.

Opentable threw up Angelus on Bathurst St.  Was it to be an homage to a great wine, or a mare?  (“Mayor” – see what I did there? Dicky daughters and all that).

Run by enthusiastic and friendly French people, the food is very Gallic, and the service is so attentive that eventually, after 16 “spams”, I had to unsubscribe from the bread basket.  I resisted the frog’s legs in favour of steak tartare which was tart (gherkin) and meaty (untainted by oven or grill).  I guess I expected the oeuf to be a raw yolk but it turned out to be a whole boiled quail’s egg which was quacking.

My main of pot au feu, with chicken and sausage and cabbage and stuffing (I’m sure it was described better than that on the menu) was amongst the juiciest, tenderest poulet I have eaten.  Dessert of glazed lemon tart with a glass of south-west France sweet wine floored me in a cow-tipping sort of way.

A long chat with the Maître D’ indicated that he probably doubles as the sommelier.  His wine knowledge was good, in parts.  I chose a 2009 Fleurie which was okay in parts, but not really quite at the same heights as many other Bojos I have tried from this vintage of the aeon.  Quite drinkable but I expect a bit more for £38.  It annoyed me a little that he swirled the wine around in the glass before presenting it to taste.  That’s my decision not his.  But I am pickier than Morecambe Bay’s finest (for the avoidance of doubt there were no cockles on the menu) so maybe you think that is OK.

The food was beautifully presented and tasty as hell, but I think they must hold the British & Commonwealth record for most tables squeezed into a small space.  I measured a wincing 4 inches (and remember I’m a bloke) as my toilet escape gap past the next table.

Apart from sitting on top of the romantic, flirty and snogging couples either side of this iPhone toting solo diner, the atmosphere is pretty amiable.  But, while I am on bugbears, how about a side plate for the crusty bread?  Or at least decrumb me before main course.

It’s funny that the better a place is, the more the minor complaints are magnified.  It is nice to have the opportunity have only the crumbs on the table to reflect on, rather than inedible leftover food on the plate.  And the wine was even SERVED AT THE RIGHT TEMPERATURE (about 12 degrees)!  Congrats from the #WART campaign.

In summary – super food, but at an exacting price.  £111.38 to be exact, for one head including service.  You pays yer money and takes yer choice.  I think I’d return for a lunchtime special, or an evening meal when it is quiet.  But there is a cluster of restaurants on this street that I am tempted to try first on value grounds.  But, if you like it cosy and your budget is less sensitive than a double glazing salesman’s patter, then you are probably already a regular.

Angelus
4, Bathurst St
London
W2 2SD
T: +44 (0)207 402 0083
E: info@angelusrestaurant.co.uk
W: www.angelusrestaurant.co.uk

This is exactly what the majority of residents of the hotel were doing on Sunday 8 May.   Not all by boat.  Some chauffeured by limousine, taxi, helicopter or rickshaw.  Chelsea and United fans altogether, all up for the day from London.

But it is more than the famous and rich patronage of the hotel that is capitalesque.   The restaurant ambience, service and food bring to mind upmarket places in Notting Hill and Knightsbridge, rather than Cheetham Hill and Chorlton-cum Hardy.

The River Restaurant is styled a bit like Boxwood Café (RIP) with the atmosphere of Scott’s of Mayfair, only with more daylight flooding in, and a larger ratio of famous faces to plebs.

My choice of aperitif exposed my desire to join the elite, an aspirational effervescent bubble short of London pricing, Billecart-Salmon at £10.50.

Not wishing to re-invigorate the rather pointless wine and food matching debate – red wine with Smoked Salmon?  Works very well if the venerable fish comes as part of an Eggs Benedict variation.   The red wine in question, a Mourvèdre dominated Bandol by the name of Domaine Sorin, 2005 at £48. Earthy, rich and both vegetal and fruity in equal measure and with deep smooth vanilla pods and milk chocolate.   Served too warm as ever, but the waiter did not even a wince at my #WART request.   The ice bucket turned out to be a sexy inverse cone but contained only ice.  The lack of water means that the wine takes 3 hours to chill rather than 10 minutes, but fortunately this is a wine that for me tastes better at the upper end of red wine drinking temperatures – about 18 degrees I reckon.

A tasty rib of beef with Yorkshire pudding main was followed by a dessert constructed of Glasgow inspired deep fried strawberry in batter, with white chocolate mousse and strawberry ice cream.  I don’t normally do desserts but I managed to swallow this erection by lubricating my throat with a sweet Beaumes de Venise.  Violets and honey – yum.

Back to work with irony now as have to take a train to London – hate doing that on a Sunday.  This place stands up against the upper echelons of the capital dining scene.  Price-wise, we booked under a Manchester Confidential “special offer” of a £19.95 Sunday lunch.  Turns out that is the normal price for any punter that blows in off the street – hmmph.  I don’t find the Confidential websites particularly well informed, well researched or well written.  The Lowry is an altogether more reliable proposition and very good value when you consider its peers.

The River Bar and Restaurant
The Lowry Hotel
50 Dearmans Place, Chapel Wharf
Manchester, M3 5LH
England
T:   +44 161 827 4041
W:  www.theriverrestaurant.com