"Wine is constant proof that God loves us and loves to see us happy." -Benjamin Franklin. Just seen this on twitter and liked it. That's all (chuckle).

The Chequers Inn

The Chequers Inn
Main Street, Woolsthorpe by Belvoir, Grantham, NG32 1LU
Tel. 0845 2018718
www.chequersinn.net

The Chequers is a particular favourite of the Gastrosexualist and a regular haunt of his family. This 17th-century inn is situated a couple of miles from Belvoir Castle in the little village of Woolsthorpe, next to the local cricket field. Back in 2006 it formed the idyllic setting for the Gastrosexualist’s wedding reception and so there is something of an emotional investment. Imagine having a bad experience here? Surely it would taint the memory of so fine a day? Yet we visit regularly and never have we experienced a bad meal or anything less than excellent service (and do not expect to find it otherwise). Owners Jo and Justin Chad and their team did us proud and continue to do so. It is hard to beat as a charmingly intimate, attractive country hiding place, full of character with its lovely garden area, the dining rooms combining modern design flair with historic original features, a cosy bar overseen by a ferocious mounted boar’s head, and crackling open fires.
We made our way to The Chequers for a spot of Sunday lunch. I had pestered The Flower to stop for a cheeky pint at The Old Peacock in Redmile (well worth a visit as it is on the way, a decent pint of Bombardier in a snug room with low-ceilings, wooden beams and all the trimmings of a top country hostelry). Then it was up to Belvoir castle and down again, winding past sheep pastures to where the village of Woolsthorpe snuggles at the bottom of the hill looking like something out of an episode of Marple. The Chequers was agreeably busy - we opened the door to be greeted by a pleasing buzz of conversation and warm laughter. The bar has two large tables for informal drinking or dining which can be shared companionably. The Sunday papers were laid out and being swapped between customers. Some had just popped in to enjoy a friendly drink and fend off the November chill before the roaring open fire, more than a few couples had been walking dogs and these lay at their feet looking content. One or two regulars sat at the bar contemplating the decent selection of draught ales, lagers and extensive range of spirits (and over fifty whiskeys).
We ate in the red lounge (there are two other dining areas) next to another open fire, having opted for the very reasonably priced Sunday lunch deal of two courses for £11.95. We finished the drinks we brought in with us from the bar while enjoying freshly baked bread that was served to the table promptly – still warm, light and delicate, smelling deliciously. I soon dived into my starter of mushroom soup finding it pleasingly substantial, creamy and seasoned perfectly, with just a hint of garlic. The Flower was delighted to find battered squid on the menu and proclaimed the rings to be cooked just right, with a fantastic texture, the exact amount of bite and softness, and a tangy chilli jam that went extremely well with the generous serving. I found the main course of roast rib of beef to be spot on: a medium rare, melt in the mouth treat. It came with decent roast potatoes and a show-off Yorkshire pudding, a well-judged amount of meaty gravy completing a big plate. Try this with a large glass of Black Shiraz – delicious. The Flower’s individual fish pie was fantastic. Just what was needed on a cold day and comfort food at its finest: topped with potato and cheese, creamy and warming but letting the delicate flavours and textures of the fish shine through, in short a big hug of a dish. These mains came served with a selection of seasonal vegetables that were cooked just the right side of firm.
We finished this entirely satisfying lunch with a drink back out in the bar, lounging on an antique bench covered in a fur throw like something the witch from Narnia would drape across her sleigh. The fire was dancing merrily; the mounted boar’s head watched the lazy Sunday proceedings with a patrician’s air. We drank glasses of warm winter Pimms. At some point we would have to leave and step back out into the cold. But not right away.

Nostalgia!

While researching for a review on The Chequers at Woolsthorpe by Belvoir, I came across a copy of their menu for the Gastrosexualist's wedding reception in 2006 that I helped create. Fabulous dishes, you don't often get these choices for a wedding! Wonderfully cooked. Everyone was in raptures. A fantastic job.

Starter

Chequers pate, toasted brioche and red onion marmalade
Seared salmon, Mediterranean chutney, char-grilled foccacia

Main course

Roast loin of pork and crackling, roast potatoes and seasonal vegetables
Chicken and leek pie, new potatoes and seasonal vegetables
Pan fried Monkfish, Sauté new potatoes, green beans and tomato butter sauce

Pudding

Tarte au citron with a raspberry coulis
Chocolate and hazelnut truffle cake

The Moorings Bar & Restaurant
34 Castlegate, Newark, Notts NG24 1BG
Tel. 01636 611118
www.themooringsrestaurantandbar.co.uk

“You are talking about the Goldilocks zone,” stated The Gastrosexualist, slipping into lecturer mode. “Scientists are using it all the time these days in connection to the search for extra-solar planets, planets light years away beyond our solar system, Earth like worlds that might potentially support life.”
“How is that connected to this?” The Flower asked. She gestured at her starter of cured salmon, toasted brioche and poached egg. It sat before her on a pristine plate, the cutlery gleaming, glasses sparkling, on a table polished and clean.
First a sip of the French house red, the 2008 Baron d’Arignac: smooth, tangy, fruity and eminently quaffable. “Well the orbit of these planets must lie within a particular zone - neither too close nor too far from their sun, neither too hot nor too cold – in a position just right. Like Earth... and, yes, kind of how Goldilocks’ described her porridge. And as you put it just a moment ago, this starter is just right: portion size, temperature, seasoning, mix of ingredients, a perfect combination of elements, simply perfect little dish.” Regretting the explanation I dived back into the starter, noting how a clever addition of balsamic glaze to decorate the plate helped bring the dish together even more. A feather-light sweet brioche, fabulous poached egg oozing unctuous yolk as soon as my fork brushed it, fresh and flavoursome salmon, that lip-smacking touch of balsamic.
We have come today to The Moorings, an exciting and vibrant new venue in Newark. This bar and restaurant is situated in what was once an old coaching inn, dating as far back as 1770. You can find The Moorings sitting plumb in the shadow of Newark castle overlooking the river Trent and the town lock. It can be approached from two sides – the river itself (nice little walk this) or from the road and through into the courtyard it shares with the fabulous Just Beer Micro pub (highly recommended for real ale connoisseurs). The Moorings aims to dazzle with a sexy and sophisticated first impression. It aims for drama. The bar area boasts funky design touches and fun, vibrant colour mixed with sassy tones and swanky velvet. A great range of drinks are on offer here and the bar menu with its sharer platters, chunky sarnies, hand cut chips, olives, soup and freshly made bread is mighty tempting for a generous snack. There is a separate dining area which is modern but comfortable, full of sparkle and flair yet warm and relaxing. Overhead candelabras glitter opulently and light-toned oak beams show the character of the venue but do not overwhelm. It is an intimate space and well-laid out managing ample room between the tables. The smartly uniformed staff members work the restaurant well and are charming, knowledgeable and professional.
The lunch menu is wisely pared down but offers some tantalising choices with two courses at £11.95 or three at £15.95. As mentioned it was the salmon starter for both of us, followed by a locally sourced 10oz rump steak for me (note a £5 supplement but well worth the extra cost) – grilled medium rare and perfectly succulent and juicy (best I’ve had for some time in fact). This was served with hand cut chunky chips cooked in proper fat, seasoned well, a nice sized mushroom and a lovely side salad. The Flower, feeling daring, opted for the blue swimmer crab and prawn risotto which hit the spot nicely, not too creamy, great consistency, fresh meaty crab but not overpowering , lemony but not sharp, with plump prawns bursting with flavour. The Gastrosexualist also eyed up the lemon and thyme roasted chicken, this being served with new potatoes and a French bean and shallot salad to a table nearby - it looked (and smelled) divine.
The Moorings impressed. It has passion. There is nothing quite like this restaurant and bar in Newark. It could have been let down by mediocre, so-so food that failed to live up to the hype and promise of its glamorous image but menu, presentation, sourcing of ingredients, skill of the chef and flavour of the dishes made this venue an absolute treat.
Try it – you can even slip in the ad hoc astronomy lecture if you dare.

La Parisienne
12 King Street, Southwell, Nottingham, NG25 0EN
Tel. 01636 816573

"Where did you get that skirt?" asked The Flower to the waitress of La Parisienne, as if a couple of hours spent trying on dresses in the boutiques of Southwell was not enough of a fashion fix. Usually it is left to The Gastrosexualist to open up the conversation and get straight to business. I would have started out with a boring question asking about the specials of the day, the wine list or the history of the venue – yes, all too predictable. Clearly, The Flower was feeling suitably relaxed given the intimate, friendly venue - a single dining room with low ceiling, wooden beams, shabby chic ornaments promoting a French-Moroccan theme, charming little windows through which passers-by can peer at contented diners, no more than ten tables in an informal setting and the one busy but attentive and smiling young waitress. Rather lovely too (a comment which I make now but would have earned a swift kick on the shin had I said it aloud).
You cannot miss La Parisienne. Plumb position on the Southwell high street and the only restaurant of note amongst all the cafes, an old little terraced cottage just the right side of twee with a happy red door. Specials boards outside boast classic French cuisine and some temptingly different Moroccan fare (and you will note that the prices are very reasonable).
We popped in for a weekday lunch and the place was bustling. Again, there are only a few tables and so it is advisable to book early for evening dinner. We were lucky and managed to bag a choice table from which to observe the room. Nicely unfussy, La Parisienne allows the food to be the star and speak for itself. There was an appreciative crowd tucking into perfectly portioned, fresh and tasty looking dishes and enjoying teas and coffees with indulgent cakes, and that one hardworking waitress navigated the room smoothly.
A great looking bistro menu was offered for lunch, with all the usual suspects lined up - Croque Madame, Bœuf bourguignon, Coque au vin, and soups and omelettes - but with some flavoursome and intriguingly different dishes to choose from. I rather liked the sound of Tartiflette au Reblochon, a bake of potatoes, shallots and white wine topped with Reblochon cheese (there is another option with bacon) or Loup de Mer façon Boulangère, a fresh sea bass cooked boulangere-style with potatoes, tomatoes, bouquet garni and saffron. However, I could not resist the temptation of a personal favourite: Moules Marinière et frites, done perfectly with white wine, parsley, garlic and onion without cream, the moules plump fellows, well-seasoned and lip-smacking, the broth light and zingy (make sure you ask for a spoon), the frites crisp, then yieldingly delicious – very well priced given the quality and quantity at £7.95. I would have been in heaven if this came with some crusty homemade bread. The Flower went for the special of the day, priced similarly, an individual tajine of chicken cooked with peas and courgettes, the chicken’s flesh falling from the bone and melt-in-the-mouth succulent, the Moroccan spices and seasoning creating a very different very delicious freshness. We washed this down with glasses of house white, a Sauvignon Blanc that went extremely well with the meal, and at only £3.50 a glass it certainly did not leave a sour taste.
This is a charming, hearty, intimate and honest little venue. La Parisienne is well worth popping into if you are visiting Southwell during the day and is certainly one to consider if you are thinking of an evening dinner somewhere a bit different, a restaurant where you will not feel slaved to a soulless, polished culinary conveyer belt.
Oh, and the skirt came from Top Shop it turns out.

Piccolino
7 Weekday Cross, Nottingham. NG1 2GB
0115 9472169 piccolino.nottingham@piccolinorestaurants.co.uk

The Gastrosexualist has worked out that, on an average shopping trip to Nottingham with The Flower, he must spend at least 1.5 hours languishing outside of changing rooms. I began counting the pit stops and clocking up the time this Saturday. As usual I was dragged from one bewildering boutique and emporium to another, suffering a little from the night before, wincing as music throbbed from speakers, as distressingly young shoppers pushed by me (is not All Saints the most terrifying place?). T. S. Eliot has Prufrock measuring out his life with coffee spoons; I had a growing mound of shopping bags (not mine) to testify to hours of a rare weekend off being wasted. And on it went, the wife disappearing behind another set of curtains, in another changing room, a magician about to perform her trademark trick, the feat of ‘see how much time one person can make vanish in one day’. There was but a single saving grace in being martyred to this kind of shopping. At least I could make The Flower feel guilty enough to allow the odd cheeky pint along the way, and to concede the choice of lunch venue. Nothing wrong with a little leverage...
I have been meaning to try Piccolino for ages. This is a good looking central venue complete with terrace seating for pavement dining, next to the Weekday Cross memorial, just across from the tram lines, well positioned amongst other popular chain bars and restaurants. It fits in well here. It is modern, vibrant and professional. It boasts a shiny, well-stocked cosmopolitan bar area in which to unwind with post-work cocktails and confidently displays an open kitchen complete with roaring pizza oven for added theatricality. Seating in the tidy dining area is comfortable; the room is light, the atmosphere cheerful and buzzing. Service is confident, knowledgeable and friendly. Piccolino stands as a superior choice to Pizza Express or Zizi for a break from the shopping. I am not being dismissive about these two, having enjoyed perfectly tasty lunches in many branches over the years (and Piccolino itself is part of an established chain of eateries with restaurants dotted around the country). Part of the attraction with a Pizza Express is that you know exactly where you stand and what you will experience. You are familiar for the most part with the menu. It is standardised. You can coast. You have chosen to switch on the autopilot. These restaurants are safe choices where there are ‘no alarms and no surprises’ (apologies to Radiohead). However, Piccolino is not as well known on the high street and therefore more of an exciting prospect. I much prefer its seasonal menu which is varied, surprising and offers tantalizing daily specials with more of a brassiere feel. I would (and certainly will in the future) come here for evening dinner. There is much more to engage with here. Piccolino provides a relaxed, unhurried dining experience with a more intimate feel.
To me the sign of a good menu is that it can tempt you with new possibilities, leaving you ‘umming’ and ‘aahing’ over the choices rather than fall back on tried and tested dishes again and again. Once seated (surrounded by The Flower’s shopping bags) with a bottle of Terrazze della Luna Merlot we began to weigh up options assisted by a very helpful member of staff. She clearly knew the menu (more importantly she had enjoyed the food herself) and was interested enough in her customers to ask questions and advocate favourites. I succumbed to the hearty and warming temptation of one of the day’s specials: Cannelloni, woodstone baked with slow cooked beef, tomato & pecorino cheese sauce. It was the best example I have tasted in years. Rich, creamy, perfectly textured, all I missed was some fresh bread to mop up the sauce. The Flower opted for Spiedini (or skewers) of king prawns, scallops and salmon in oregano, chilli and lemon. This was generously portioned – three skewers of succulent seafood, charcoal-grilled, zesty and tingling with that chilli bite, and simply delicious. We shared a mixed salad which was fresh and well-dressed with a subtle dash of oil. We followed up with a Tiramisu which fell short of perfect as I, personally, would have like more of a boozy wallop from it.
As we made to leave we were met by the manager. Had the Gastrosexualist been rumbled? Perhaps too many questions about the sourcing of ingredients or had I been overheard waxing lyrical after the wine about the balance of garlic, lemon zest and fresh parsley in a perfect gremolata? Whatever it was, here was the manager offering to show us around the kitchen! Surprised, and more than a little bashful, we followed him and were introduced to the kitchen team and there we stood - invaders in their territory. It would be unlikely that a kitchen designed to be visible to diners would be anything less than spick & span and could never be ruled by a bullying, mouthy egotist bellowing orders louder than the private conversations at tables. Safe to assume therefore that there would be no revealingly negative impression to be gained from this exercise and only positive word of mouth. Of course the kitchen at Piccolino looked immaculate. It was so unlike the kitchen of the country hotel where I once worked my way through university that it belonged to a different universe. This was clutter free, clean, organised and superbly run. Oh the enticing aromas, the sizzle of meat cooking, the bubbling sauces, and the all too delicious ingredients arrayed... I had to be dragged away. In an ideal world I could have stayed all afternoon watching, picking up recipes and techniques. But the shops were waiting and so, resigned to my fate, I followed The Flower out of the restaurant and into the crowded bustle of a Saturday afternoon in Nottingham. There were hours of forced-shopping left to face. Such is the lot of the Gastrosexualist that he understands the balance of sweet and sour in more than just a recipe.

Jackson’s Restaurant
The Old Vicarage Boutique Hotel

Westhorpe, Southwell, Notts. NG25 0NB
Tel. 01636 815989
www.vicarageboutiquehotel.co.uk

Two courses for £10 on a lunch menu... as tempting as that sounded to the wallet I could not help but hear warning bells and feel a frisson of concern. The Gastrosexualist is not cheap but these recession days I admit to being more flash than cash. As great a deal as that sounded (let’s face it that is bloody good value) I was struggling to think of a quality venue serving up food at this price in the Nottingham area and one that could be trusted. As the cynic in the critic began to warm to his theme I tried to convince The Flower that, after a morning shopping in Southwell, I didn’t want the day ruined by a cut price lunch with second rate ingredients and budget cooking slaved to a marketing scheme. But the wife had heard exciting things. Well I can testify that on this occasion I was absolutely, emphatically delighted that she had her way. The Old Vicarage is a treat. The special lunch menu delivers fine dining excellence at a more than affordable price. The ingredients are top notch. The cooking is assured and delivers familiar, comforting dishes with flair. The lunch menu does exactly what it is intended to do: get the word out there, inspire positive word of mouth, it tempts you to make a future reservation and try the more expansive and expensive dinner menu.
So I was grumbling and not exactly receptive as the Beer Wagon made the short journey from Southwell’s shops and along Westhorpe. Yet The Old Vicarage won me over immediately. It had me with the sound of a long gravel drive crunching beneath the wheels as we pulled into the car park. A sound that to The Gastrosexualist equates to family gatherings and special meals, reminding me of visits to Grandparents and their old, rambling cottage; of those immense Sunday dinners, table groaning under the weight of all that food, stately dining with gleaming silverware and antique crockery, the best gravy I have ever tasted, my stolen sips of wine as a child, and the barely disguised dysfunction, subtle nuances and secrets that characterised our family gatherings. Yes, I’m a sucker for a venue with a gravel drive.
The Old Vicarage looks impressive and makes an impact with its stately exterior, driveway and fountain, but it is the interior spaces that really have the wow factor. We were welcomed at the door by a member of staff, chic and professional in a black dress, and led smoothly within, her heels making a reassuringly up market sound on the expensive flooring. The interiors have been thoroughly modernised following a two year renovation – an elegant reception area, two well-appointed lounges equipped with state of the art televisions (managing the neat trick of being both cool and comfortable), a showcase bar area which would not look out of place in a hip Manhattan hotel, and Jackson’s restaurant itself which is pristine and spacious with just the right hint of opulence to ease you into the mood for indulgence. By the time we were shown through to the decking where we had chosen to eat looking out on an extensive garden, I was reassured and certain we were in for a memorable lunch. Everything was so professional, so polished.
The Flower opted for a starter of grilled local Asparagus which came artfully served on slate, with a poached hen’s egg, parmesan shavings and grain mustard. Again that balance of style and substance, and the Asparagus was perfectly succulent. I chose a simple Caesar Salad served with some wonderful individual ingredients – tasty home smoked chicken, roasted garlic, fresh anchovies and quail’s eggs. A great dish treated sympathetically here, the mingling of flavours sublime. I could have polished this off as a main. We followed up with The Flower’s trusted favourite of Beer Battered Fish and hand cut chips with mushy peas and homemade tartar sauce. This met her exacting standards. I went with the Old Vic Burger served with cured bacon and homemade relish and a fresh salad. The burger (a good test of any kitchen) proved well-seasoned, medium rare, juicy and substantial bringing a smile as I remember it. Just today I paid £7.95 for a house burger at another establishment and found it under seasoned and bland in comparison to The Old Vicarage’s exemplary version. Again, simply unbeatable value and for £10 each the quality of the food was a welcome surprise. On a minor note of caution however, if you like a drop with your lunch like The Gastrosexualist then The Old Vicarage boasts a fabulous wine list but, boy, it ain’t cheap, and there are no draught beers for our ale connoisseurs. That said I was delighted to discover a personal favourite on the list, the Stump Jump Shiraz 2007. A couple of large glasses of this heady number with its touch of cocoa and spicy wallop of cherry, blackberry and raspberry fruit will prove more expensive than your two course lunch. But by then you will be too happy to care.

Farndon Boathouse
The Riverside, Farndon, Newark, Notts. NG24 3SX
Tel. 01636 676578 info@farndonboathouse.co.uk

Now and again – weather, mood and level of sobriety permitting – you can just about will your mind free from everyday concerns and, caught up in the moment, forget how finite the weekend is. For no more than a few fleeting hours on a Friday night, or a transient and tragically short sense of release on a Saturday, you can almost convince yourself that the working week is not waiting to ensnare you in its gears once more. Perhaps, given the right venue, you can picture yourself being on holiday and enjoying an unhurried lunch beneath unblemished skies. That feeling of escape is not something The Gastrosexualist thought to discover by the banks of the River Trent near Newark. Yet there it was: the perfect combination of glorious Saturday weather, a great location for al fresco lunch, fantastic service, great decor, chilled out music and the enticing aroma of skilful cooking, everything meshing in order to create this wonderful illusion.
The success of The Boathouse at Farndon is certainly not illusionary. Voted runner up in the ‘best newcomer’ and ‘best out of town venue’ categories in the 2009 Nottingham Restaurant Awards it generates plenty of buzz in the area and is always being recommended. The Gastrosexualist is not one to put awards above positive word of mouth from trusted sources, yet there has been plenty of affirmation for this stylish, polished, modern and exciting venue from the team behind Tom Browns at Gunthorpe and the newly opened Riverbank on Trent Bridge (a visit in the offing soon). One friend makes the trip to The Boathouse on the strength of the fat (triple fried) chips alone; another (a scoundrel we shall call ‘Papa’, not for his dubious taste in the age of partners I hasten to add, but for his Hemmingway-esque, macho leanings) calls the place a “deal maker”. When pressed Papa, notorious womaniser, points out that The Boathouse looks so good and so classy that it appears he is making an enormous effort, thus impressing his date. Style by association one might suppose.
Just the other day, after a trip to bustling Newark Market (we are always in need of some triple smoked bacon from Porter’s, the butchers just off the square opposite HSBC bank) we decided to treat ourselves to lunch. Turning off the A46 and heading into Farndon we followed clear signage through the village to The Boathouse where we found ample parking. I could see what Papa had been insinuating right away. The Boathouse looks fab. Admittedly, The Gastrosexualist tends to haunt the more rustic venues of The Vale of Belvoir, and this is nothing like those traditional old inns and coaching houses. No, The Boathouse is modern, sophisticated, clean and airy, with lots of gleaming chrome and glass mixing with modern stone effects, plenty of decking and a spacious veranda which opens out onto riverside views. The bar area is a thing of beauty with some excellent design features built around natural slate. Clearly effort has been put into creating a signature style. A decent choice of bottled and draught beers, spirits and wines is offered. We took a seat outside, noting that the boathouse theme includes warm, fluffy ‘guest’ towels to use as blankets if the weather turns chilly.
Pleasing lunch menu, perused while enjoying a pint of Old Speckled Hen. Thoughtful choices, ingredients locally sourced where possible (The Boathouse has its own herb garden on site) and with some meat and fish home-smoked. We decided on something unfussy. I opted for the English Mustard and Maple Roasted Ham, Cooked on the Bone, with Runny Egg and Triple Cooked Fat Chips, and Home Made Piccalilli. This was superb. The chips live up to their reputation, that crisp skin yielding to beautifully soft potato, wonderfully seasoned. The ham itself was generously portioned, thick cut and flavoursome. My wife took on the Thai Fish Cakes with Tempura King Prawns, Wasabi Mayonnaise & Sweet Chilli & Coriander Sauce, fishcakes moistly delicious with a good crumb, prawns plump and fresh, batter perfectly crisp, dipping sauces piquant and lip-smacking. Very commendable stuff, and already we were choosing options from the menu for our next visit.
The Gastrosexualist will certainly be returning. Papa, however, is said to be mending his ways and appears to be settling down at last with just the one partner, saving his pennies to put down a deposit on an apartment in West Bridgford, and will not be visiting anytime soon. Or so he claims...

The Full Moon at Morton

The Full Moon, Main Street, Morton, Southwell, NG25 0UT, 0845 2018731 www.thefullmoonmorton.co.uk

“We are spoilt for pubs around here,” commented R. We were driving around the villages near Southwell, on a weekday afternoon, splendidly sunny, windows down, and (I bashfully recall) some Latin jazz spilling from the speakers of the Beer Wagon. It was one of those meandering, off-the-cuff, play-it-by-ear, no-fixed plan kind of days when we launch out for lunch without a particular destination, just to see where we might end up. As R pointed out, and quite right she was too, we are spoilt for choice. From Gunthorpe by the river up to Lowdham and on towards Southwell, taking in a wealth of picturesque villages like Thurgaton, Bleasby, Caythorpe and Hoveringham, you cannot go wrong if you are looking for some local colour, a decent pint and a meal in lovely surroundings.
We pulled into the ample car park of The Full Moon at Morton, arrestingly positioned on the village Main Street opposite an old red phone box. It looked pretty as a picture. Plenty of outdoor seating at the front facing the sleepy street; with more benches behind in a tidy beer garden (and note the impressive children’s area complete with wooden fort, ducks waddling around freely and rabbits contentedly snoozing in hutches). In the car park we also discovered a catering van being prepped. ‘The Nippie Chippie’, as it is know, is run by The Full Moon and drives around the locality serving beer-battered freshly cooked fish and hand cut chips. This reminds me that our own local chip van, once operating in the Bingham area, has not been glimpsed since before winter. Perhaps it was swallowed up by the chill mist one December night never to emerge again... Anyone out there seen it? The Full Moon also hires their van for private parties and functions, a great idea that has me planning something in the near future.
Inside you will find a spacious, light, clean and tasteful bar area with extra dinning space off to the right and a more relaxed area to the left with leather chairs and sofas. It is a nice mix of traditional features (exposed beams and old fireplaces) with bright and airy contemporary paint work. The walls feature work by a local artist that is available for purchase. This is a very attractive space in which to relax with the free newspapers and magazines on offer. The bar itself has some good variety with a solid selection of lagers, ciders and Cask Marque approved beers – personally it is good to find the ubiquitous Blue Monkey (springing up everywhere in the area; pale, golden hoppy ale, very quaffable) to Kent’s Masterbrew (which, having lived in Canterbury for many years, seems like a taste of home). There is solid wine selection with monthly specials (April sees one of my favourites, the delicious Wolf Blass Yellow Label cabernet sauvignon) and it is pleasing to discover another pub serving our local Belvoir Vale cordials.
The lunch menu was spot on. Nothing challenging here just good, inviting crowd-pleasers done without fuss or fancy (The Full Moon makes this very clear when boasting a slogan like “big flavours, no frills” on its menus). Produce is sourced from local suppliers like Gonalston, Porters and Atherleys and the menu can change daily depending on ingredients (have a look at the very professional website for up to the minute additions – there is even a blog!). Try the pan-fried duck breast with blackcurrant and cinnamon, served with lyonnaise potatoes and steamed vegetables or the roast smoked salmon linguini with spinach, pesto and parmesan if you are peckish; perhaps mozzarella, tomato and basil salad with pesto croutons and olives or an omelette of your choice if you are less a gannet than I.
And time for a cheeky pint on the way back? Always... as pointed out to The Gastrosexualist, we are spoilt for choice.

The Martin's Arms

The Martin’s Arms School Lane, Colston Bassett, NG12 3FD.
Tel. 0845 2025144 www.themartinsarms.co.uk

It may already seem an illusion and prove a fleeting benediction, but the other Saturday Nottingham awoke to the blue sky of a perfect spring morning. Here in the village the horse paddock across from the cottage suddenly looked verdant, grass bursting with healthy colour, an almost electric green. Windows, closed for too long, were forced open to let in a warm (yes warm) breeze. The cottage seemed to tremble and sigh, the miasma of a bottled up winter bleeding away as fresh air began to circulate, as old brick and stone drank in sunlight thirstily. Villagers passing by stopped to chat. All those months spent trudging through foul weather to the local shop for a morning paper, a bottle of milk, a loaf of bread, enduring a season of sniffles, of snow and sleety rain, muffled by hoods and scarves... could it really be over? The general topic was still the weather but how positive it was that day. Even the noisy lady with the dogs seemed less irksome as she made her way up Main Street, her fingernails-on-blackboard screech broadcasting what was plain to see: Spring had arrived.

With that realisation came a certain responsibility. A Saturday off and one blessed by glorious sunshine must not be wasted. How many BBQs were being dragged out of the shadows and cobwebs, unearthed from sheds, produced with a magician’s flourish from plastic covers? How many of you, confronted with the promise of summer to come, were hastily putting together picnics, gathering the troops for an all-day expedition to Nottingham’s canal side bars or heading down to the river at Gunthorpe; group-texting, Twittering, Facebooking, putting out the shout? Well, the first and foremost thing on my mind when offered such a treat is put very simply: beer garden.

What is more quintessentially British on a warm afternoon than idling with the newspaper in a pub beer garden? A few cheeky pints, a bottle of chardonnay lifted glistening from an ice bucket, an early season jug of Pimms packed with slices of fresh fruit; it is the smell of mown grass, the light breeze that rustles the review section of a broadsheet, the tantalizing aroma of lunches brought out from a bustling kitchen and delivered to where you relax, sun-drowsy and content. The only question is venue. Living in The Vale of Belvoir there is plenty of choice, an abundance of tidy village locals on the doorstep. However, one of the best – in terms of quality of food, drink, ambience and timeless picturesque charm – is The Martin’s Arms at Colston Bassett.

An historic and unspoilt village surrounded by estate parkland (and, importantly, the home of world renowned Colston Bassett stilton) forms the perfect setting for this award-winning Inn and dining rooms. Built originally in the 1800s as a farmhouse, this Grade 2 listed building is the perfect example of a British country hostelry, ivy clad and inviting. Not to forget that The Martin’s Arms is equally rewarding to visit when the weather turns. In winter you will discover snug period rooms bursting with cosy charm, open fires crackling in the grates, the soft glow of candles and subtle romantic lighting, wooden beams and plenty of traditional features. The bar area is full of character (note the lack of an electronic till). There is plenty of choice of wines, whiskies and brandies for the discerning drinker, and the real ale connoisseur is suitably catered for: Timothy Taylor’s Landlord, Marston’s Pedigree, Green King IPA and Bass, Elgood Black Dog, Jennings’ Cumberland and, recently added, the superb Castle Rock’s Harvest Pale. The weekly changing, seasonal menu for the restaurant is not cheap – but it is superb. How about warm wood pigeon and black pudding salad, quail egg and spiced mulled wine dressing for a Starter, followed by slow poached loin of lamb, black olives and basil, rosemary fondant, sautéed spinach and red current jus, with warm chocolate and beetroot sponge, vanilla mascarpone and chocolate sauce to find space for as pudding?

The Martin’s Arms has a well-earned reputation for exclusivity and peaceful refinement. No loud crowds, no lager-swilling bleary lads, no gaggles of ladette Lolitas comparing ringtones, no bass-heavy music thumping from speakers, no nonsense. And the only DJs you will find here are the ones worn on New Year’s Eve. On a glorious afternoon with a pristine beer garden to enjoy you had better arrive early to claim a table for very soon it will fill up. I recommend the Ploughman’s lunch from the bar menu with its Melton Mowbray pork pie, Colston Bassett stilton, home-cured ham, homemade pickles and breads. The Gastrosexualist will already be there. He will raise a glass of Harvest Pale.

Alice’s Tea Cup, Millgate, Newark.

Alice’s Tea Cup in Newark is well worth a break from the bustling Market Square and shops. You will find it situated in a lovingly restored cottage a short stroll down Millgate, just opposite the Museum. Easy to spot with its invitingly cheery facade, windows decorated with strings of flower lights, flags and pennants.
A peek through the window reveals a vision of childhood straight from the pages of Arthur Ransome and Enid Blyton. Step in and discover a low ceiling, exposed wooden beams, cosy rugs, rustic matting, an inviting leather sofa and plump cushions, with tables, chairs and walls painted a cheery white. Eccentric curiosities and treasures are displayed in every nook and cranny: a retro microphone stand, an archaic typewriter, a top hat, tea pots and cups of all shapes and sizes, children’s toys and, of course, art prints and cards depicting scenes from Carroll’s Wonderland. Alice’s Tea Cup manages to be both charming and nostalgic without falling into the trap of being desperately twee. It promotes an idealistic sense of a lost England that, perhaps, never existed outside the pages of such classics.
The menu offers plenty of choice for the tea connoisseur, with some rare examples like Jasmine ‘Monkey King’ and Earl Grey Lavender amongst a superior selection. The coffee lover is well-catered for with a delicious, freshly ground brew you can have strong or medium, or the distinctive Costa Rican ‘La Minita’ recognised by aficionados for its quality. Of course there are always tempting, freshly baked homemade cakes from a menu that changes regularly – favourites include scones with strawberry jam and whipped cream, toasted teacakes, crumpets, chocolate & lime fairy cakes, coffee & walnut cake, and various tasty muffins. A delicious hot chocolate with marshmallows is also on hand for colder days, along with fruit cordials (including a superb mulberry variety) and bottles of vintage-style lemonade and ginger beer to quench your thirst.
Warm and attentive service, an unhurried, relaxed atmosphere and cosy rooms full of character (with a garden for summer dining) make this the perfect spot for a family treat or an indulgent lunch with friends. Alice’s Tea Cup is a haven for the tired shopper and a heaven for the lover of homemade cakes and speciality teas.

Lalon
Radcliffe Road, Nottingham, NG12 2LF. Tel. 0115 9816030

If ‘location, location, location’ is the key to your choice of fine dining venue then you may have overlooked Lalon. Perhaps you have passed by on the A52 towards Radcliffe from Nottingham and merely noted that someone has bravely/foolishly taken over the site of the old Little Chef next to the Esso petrol station, refurbished the derelict and dismissible building, strung some rather attractive twinkling lights in the trees at the side of the road, put up an eye catching sign and started praying for custom. Does the work of Lalon Shah, the Bengali poet-philosopher and inspiration behind the name, lend itself to the hopeful soul? While the enticements of a well-presented establishment in a lovely setting are obvious, put aside aesthetics for the moment and face it: you could be missing something of a treat by taking things at face value. Certainly, from the outside Lalon is not an immediate winner. Yet the interior belies that first impression. A good job has been done here. The dining and bar areas have been refurbished with some skill and a pleasing attention to detail: modern and tasteful, with just the right amount of atmospheric ethnicity in the decorations and music. Windows at the back of the restaurant open up to give views of the beautiful Holme Pierrepont Lake while glimpses of the busy A52 are wisely kept to a minimum. Now there is a realistic alternative to going all the way into Nottingham and worrying about parking, hassle and extra cost, a convenient no-fuss location boasting excellent Indian cuisine with free parking. Now that is a positive way to view Lalon.
The area south of the River Trent, from West Bridgford all the way to Bottesford, is blighted by Indian restaurants that are simply not up to scratch, depending on brash flavours, an unsubtle use of spices, too much artificial colouring and dishes swimming in grease. This is just about excusable for a post-session night, fine with taste buds dulled by drink and belly rumbling, with critical faculties deadened. I’ve tried and tested many and left feeling guilty for wasting my money, a little angry at the lazy cooking of chefs catering for the post pub demographic and sadly knowing that I will doubtless do it all again. I cannot think of a decent place (other than for a so-so takeaway) closer than Nottingham’s obvious and award-winning venues... until now. This is a welcome newcomer and certainly not marketed for a quick bite after the boozer (although a takeaway menu is offered). Lalon delivers authentic cuisine inspired by recipes from its team’s diverse heritage – Bengal, Hyderabad, Madras and Nepal. The menu offers pleasing variety and some notably different dishes with some tempting fish courses like Bemisal (char grilled tikka or simply grilled Scottish salmon in a characteristic mild to medium sauce, where the smoothness of the buttery tomato, coconut milk and lemongrass sauce is complimented by sautéed brown onions), Goan Fish Curry (a traditional speciality where lean fillet of Telapia is fire cooked in green herb sauce with tamarind, coconut, onions, fresh tomatoes and curry leaves) and Monk Fish Shashlik (with chunks of fresh monkfish, peppers, charlottes, lemon grass, tomatoes and mushrooms, marinated in a special Tandoori sauce barbecued over charcoal, served on a hot sizzling skillet with roasted coriander and lime). I began with the poppadoms served with a selection of freshly made dips (the coriander and lime is a zingy winner). The Tandoori sharer platter for a starter gives a good idea of the quality of both the chefs and their fresh ingredients with its assortment of green herb lamb tikka, malai chicken tikka and salmon supreme tikka (the lamb is melt in the mouth, tender and succulent and the salmon sympathetically cooked, its distinct flavour well-served by the spices). A main of lamb shank stood out with the pre-baked lamb slow cooked over night in a rich and complex melange of fresh garlic, ginger, turmeric, star anise, cloves and pepper corn plums, the meat falling from the bone.
Not exactly cheap but given what you would be charged in the centre of Nottingham and giving the shameful lack of a decent rival in the immediate area, combined with the distinct quality of the food, a comfortably smart dining area and efficient staff, the bill is reasonable and, let’s face it, having Lalon on the scene might make others raise their game.