Pizzas galore!

And it's a good thing they were. Because the Wellington Arms is a glorious thing. It has been recently taken over by two chaps called Jason King and Simon Page and has gone unmentioned — as far as I can see — in any newspaper or magazine.

It's a small old pub with about eight tables, max, inside and out, and it was fully booked. But it was only 12.15 and there was a table outside they could let us have until two-thirty, which was just fine.

First good sign: at the bar they had "our eggs" for sale: £1.50 for six, laid that morning by the 35 free-range, rare-breed hens in the yard. Coins into the slot in the iron bull, and they're yours.

Second good sign: blackboard menu, not much choice. Starter was a mezze platter ­ didn't bother ­ and mains were a rack of lamb — Charity had that — and "Orkney Island rump steak", which the rest of us went for. (I think there was a wild sea bass on offer as well, but hangovers call for red flesh.) Each would come with a salad, and since there were four kinds, we had one of each.

Third good sign: pink Murray River salt on the table.

Fourth good sign: a sign. Literally. Hanging on the wall of the bogs. A collection of free-standing sentences that included: "Henwood Farm, in Ashford Hill, provides us daily with almost organic produce such as tomatoes, pumpkin flowers, beans, lettuce, potatoes, beetroot & carrots... We have seven Langstroth beehives, totalling 1.5 million bees in the height of summer... Our beef is from the Orkney Islands, an area that is renowned for its farming practices and ethics, and most importantly has always been BSE free... All our fat chips are scrubbed, peeled & chipped by us... We pay to recycle everything where possible; glass, cardboard, tins & plastic. Vegetable peelings are either composted or fed to the chickens for tea..."

Come on, you know me. These people care. And that is all I care about. The place had 10/10 written all over it.

The steaks were fantastic. That's all one can really say about steak. Juicy, powerfully flavoured, tender, and each correct to its respective cuisson. And so was the lamb. And so were the chips. One portion was enough to be shared by me and three slim girls, which is amazing value. I'm not sure it would have been enough if I had been having lunch with three fat girls. But why would I be doing that?

It's a shame we were there on a Sunday lunch, when the menu is pared down, because, looking at the weekday menus online (at www.thewellingtonarms.com), I can see the kitchen has greater ambitions, offering such things as: "A posh pasta of Cornish mussels, fennel, organic spaghetti & saffron cream" and "Kiffa: Moroccan free-range chicken & chickpea stew baked with a Wellington egg & cucumber labne".

And I bet they are just bloody great. You know how I know? Because of the puddings, the only thing in our meal where the kitchen got a chance to show its deeper skills.

The girls all thought the sticky toffee pudding was the best they had ever had. The sponge was dense and meaty, suety I suppose, and the toffee sauce just so full of levels: the gentle sweetness of golden syrup, the welly of burnt caramel, everything. And with unforgettable Devonshire clotted cream to bring it down a touch.

Steamed lemon sponge with apples and their own honey, and custard made from their hens' eggs, was light and summery, with great floral, lavender notes from the honey. And their home-grown rhubarb, strawberry and champagne jelly came with a beard of "sesame fairy floss" that was worthy of Pied à Terre or the Fat Duck. And then a perfect espresso, which is very rare.

This place is, for me, really, really special. With my campervan in the car park, I would gladly have stayed for ever. The three girls could have stayed, too, if they wanted. I had room for all of them. It would have been very Seventies. Very Winnebago. But they all had to be at work on Monday. They all had to get on with their "careers".

Women these days, I don't know. No sense of adventure.

The Wellington Arms
Baughurst, Hampshire, RG26
(0118 9820110)

Meat/fish: 10
Cooking: 8
Caring: 10
Water: 8 (tap offered first, Hildon if you ask)
Score: 9
Price: I paid £114.60 for four.

Fortune Star
16 Dalton Square, Lancaster
(01524 842828)

Caroline Eames writes: "You asked for recommendations for Chinese restaurants. This is not a swanky London restaurant, but the service is unsurpassed, the food is excellent and the owner is always there, working alongside her staff. My favourites are the salt-and-pepper ribs (tasty and unctuous), prawn toasts (not greasy, and generous with the filling) and the prawn chow mein (fresh-tasting, full of prawns and vegetables, and piping hot).

E-mail feedme2@thetimes.co.uk if you know somewhere good and maybe we'll go there together

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