TOP

...skate wing with smoked haddock brandade and clam velouté; roast pigeon with cockscombs and parsley root purée; duck foie gras with roasted quince and walnuts; lasagne of oxtail and lamb's sweetbreads with horseradish sauce; prune and burdock root mousse with toasted almond ice cream. There is something else that is different, too - every dish seems well ordered and sensible. They sound as if they will work.

To begin, S continues work on his six-volume opus A Terrine in Every Town (or I'll Cry) by ordering the restaurant's partridge, foie gras, ham hock, pear and turnip version, while I have the special, a ravioli of brandade resting on some trotter meat and dressed with an almond sauce. It seems an odd selection of ingredients, in a let's-use-up-the-leftovers way, but good housekeeping is the life-blood of small restaurants and the dish, with its silky pasta and moist meat, is rich and comforting, with the lightest of nutty sauces.

The pressed terrine is a thing of beauty, a curving, jewelled slice of layered meats, with a few glistening crystals of salt scattered on top. It has a perfect contrast of flavours and textures - the solid density of the bird above the sleek foie gras above the plush shreds of ham. S confesses it's "one of the best ever" and he should know.

From les plats principaux, as Le Champignon Sauvage insists, a beautiful fillet of gilt-head bream undulates across a few cep mushroom gnocchi, which look like tiny cocktail sausages, but taste like little mushroom clouds. Around this is a swirl of red wine and carrot emulsion, which has a spectacular colour, but a restrained, dry, elegant flavour.

Cinderford lamb, served with onion roasted with liquorice and some crushed Jerusalem artichoke, is the one stumbling disappointment - the fillet is tough and sinewy - but I partly blame myself for ordering it in the first place. Restaurants have got to have lamb on the menu - the British public demand it - but this is not a great time of year for it. In mitigation, the dark hint of liquorice that furtively creeps through the sauce is superb.

Best of all, however, is the chicory cheesecake with chicory ripple ice cream. Everitt-Matthias is known for his use of wild herbs and unusual ingredients, but he doesn't do it to shock or just to be different, he does it because he knows what will work. The chicory gives the baked cheesecake a haunting, bitter toffee edge and a flavour that is almost burnt, but without that dry crackle of carbonisation. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it - another good sign.

Other things to like here include the home-baked breads, the crisp, caraway biscuits served with cheese and the dinky beauty parade of hand-crafted petit fours served with coffee.

The prices, on the wine list and elsewhere, are fair to the point of madness. We love our eight-year old bottle of fruity, silky Vosne-Romanée (£49) from a list that's really worth plundering and realise that there is something else that makes Le Champignon Sauvage unique.

It must be almost the only two Michelin star restaurant in the country where you can have a three-course à la carte meal for under £45. Really, these people are saints.

PS. Since this review was published, the restaurant has undergone a stylish refit. The Swedish flag look is no more, but the food is still wonderful.

TOP OF PAGE