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Look, S. Here is the wine list. Have a look through it and pick out some nice bottles. That's your job. Now what's happening? The waitress places two glass phials of soup on the table before beating a noiseless retreat back to the kitchen.

Do we drink the soup? We do.

Hang on a minute. That's fantastic. In years gone by, there have been moments when I thought I might scream if someone set yet another dolly-sized cup of cauliflower velouté sploshed with truffle oil courtesy-of-the-chef in front of me, but this is in a different league. The fluffy, smoked spume is so light that it melts on the lips like a snowflake and what lies beneath is a shot of lentil-based soup that's both warming and exotically fragrant. As a present from the kitchen, it does what it is supposed to do: make one feel better about being alive and sharpen the appetite for what is to follow.

A match is struck and the fire is lit inside the fat-bellied stove. After a long break from restaurant reviewing, It's all coming back to me. We have some soup, yes, and then afterwards I write about it? It seems a funny way to make a living, but I guess there could be worse.

Le Champignon Sauvage in Cheltenham must be one of the most remarkable restaurants in Britain. For 20 years, it has been run by the chef David Everitt-Matthias and his wife, Helen, garnering a clutch of top awards - including two Michelin stars - in the process. Yet the couple keep a very low profile.

If you haven't heard of him, that's because he is not making television programmes or signing book deals or advertising low-fat spreads in magazines. He's in his kitchen cooking. Every single day. For he hasn't missed a lunch or dinner service since his restaurant opened in 1987. Working in the kitchen? Now there's a scary concept for those grinning turnips masquerading as chefs on our television screens.

The restaurant is set in a quiet street to the south of the city centre in premises that might possibly have been a pub. Inside, there is a large, comfortable bar area where Mrs E-M wafts in to greet her customers. The restaurant itself is a long, narrow room decorated in shades of yellow and blue.

Imagine being trapped inside a billowing Swedish flag on a cloudy day and you will get the idea. Thick striped curtains are looped around roundels at the windows, while bright, modern art hangs on the walls. You could carbon-date the design style to the exact day that the puffball skirts hit the high street the first time around, but at least this restaurant's decor is unique and comfortable with itself, which have to be signs for the good.

The menu is unique, too. With its roots in cuisine de terroir, Mr E-M's dishes use both the finest and the humblest of ingredients with intriguing individualism...
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