3 Weeds

The tranquillity of the dining room, decorated in muted mineral shades, carpeted and separated from the adjoining public bar by a glass wall, does little to suggest the culinary shenanigans to follow. Forget any gastropub expectations. When fish appears on the menu it is as confit - as in king salmon confit with kohlrabi remoulade, avocado sorbet and garlic flowers plucked from the kitchen garden - not battered and fried and served with chips. Served on a black slate square, coffee-spiced wild venison is all forest floor flavours, an arty-party of sliced loin amid dots of beetroot puree, chestnut mushrooms and chunky stubs of chocolate boudin noir gnocchi. There are distractions - a rhubarb mousse seemed heavily set compared with its tart rhubarb jelly and gingerbread ice-cream. Leigh McDivitt's cooking is all about nuance of texture and flavour, with a delicacy that would never survive the more rustic pub environment next door. Yet you can still start or end your evening at the bar. Win/win.