O'er moorland and brae: Quail and Tuile

Marlow is a very pretty village on the Thames. It is the home of the chef, Tom Kerridge. His restaurant, The Hand and Flowers, is currently the only pub in the UK with two Michelin stars. This is our last stop before we head back home, so we were keen to try Tom's food as it always looks so great on television.

We had a time getting a booking in truth. Making a reservations was far from easy. We phoned many times, from Australia or the UK, attempting to either reserve, confirm, then reconfirm, but the phone was never picked up. We emailed many times, too, and many of those emails just fell into a cyberhole and were never responded to, or returned. Luckily some made it, and eventually--after much frustrated effort on our part-- our reservation was made. Reserving a table should not be as difficult a process as that. The entire process really needs to be simplified and improved.

When we arrived the pub was undergoing renovation: more seats going in most likely. We counted about 50 in the restaurant proper, and it could likely manage more covers than that, even though it does two sittings for both lunch and dinners most days, so it is doing well.

The Hand and Flowers was once a pub, and like much of Marlow was built for tiny people. You have to stoop if you are as tall as us. The rooms inside have now been gutted, and the old pub has been opened out to make a beamed ceiling restaurant, with wooden floors, wooden tables and brown leather banquettes around part of the room. It is low and cosy, simple and stylish: lit by a tall single candle towering over a small cluster of fresh white flowers on each table. People call this a pub, but I cannot imagine a group of drinkers popping in here for casual drinks before heading home after work. This is not a drinking pub. They would feel distinctly uncomfortable trying to drink at the tiny bar here when all the other spaces in the place are filled to capacity with diners dedicated to enjoying what is on their plates.

The service in the restaurant was excellent. The front of the house staff did a thorough job of looking after us. They were a little more formal than Paul Ainsworth's crew, not as relaxed; though most of Paul's were men, who seem to have more fun.

Home made breads arrived--a very tasty soda and a crispy sourdough with a pat of butter; and, compliments of the chef, a cone of deep fried whitebait accompanied by the ubiquitous Marie Rose sauce. The whitebait was crunchy and delicious. But the Brits do love that ever pink and pervasive Marie Rose flavour which is served almost exclusively with seafood dishes in this country. I have long learned to pass on it.

Starters were delicious. Mine was blow torched scallops on a bed of minuscule cubes of apple for crunch, in a beer and mead bouillon dressed with grated summer truffle that tasted like nuts. I savoured every lovely spoonful.

The others had carrot and toasted lentil soup served with a carrot pakora that was beautifully spiced. Can't wait to get home and try to recreate that soup and the spiced carrot to go with it. Yum.

Mains were quail and fish. The quail was the better dish here: with subtle flavour enhanced by the beautifully reduced sauce, accompanied by 'allotment vegetables' -- beetroots and wilted greens -- which were lovely with it.

I ordered the fish as I wanted to try Tom's signature 'thrice cooked chips' and that was the only fish dish on the menu that offered them. Also it was the one dish on the menu that had been rated the top dish in the UK in 2005, so it came with credentials. But as soon as it arrived at the table I regretted it: it looked like something I might have had as a takeout in newspaper on the Whitby docks. It was retro pub food and it appeared to be the only item on the menu that wasn't likely to offer a fine dining experience. So, a strange inclusion.

Tom does this slow and extremely low temperature technique with his chips: only on the third fryup does he amp up the oil temperature. We have seen him do this on television and wondered why his chips would not be full of grease. Surprisingly, they didn't taste full of grease. And they didn't even leave grease behind. Yet, they looked as if they had been bathed in grease. Solidified, almost. Translucent with it. And it was this appearance more than anything which was really off-putting. Evenso, we all tasted the chips: and they had excellent crunch, far more so than regular chips, but loaded, simply loaded, with cholesterol-clogging arterial killers so they felt really bad for you; and we felt really guilty eating them.

Dessert was sublime. Mmine was a tiny square of rich and elegant chocolate cake, softly moist and decadently layered with an ale cake and served with a side shot of four different yeasts to sip in order to enhance the flavour of the chocolate. The others had a gorgeous white bowl filled with blackberry fool and apple sorbet topped with the thinest, crispiest and most delicious fruit tuille on the planet. Deserts were sublime, but I doubt we'll ever be able to replicate them at home, so, woe!

Overall, a lovely eating experience for us at The Hand and Flowers, in the main. We really enjoyed most of the food, and certainly wanted to try many other items on the menu that looked so appealing. But -- and there are always buts: the prices, apart from the set menu which was excellent value, are becoming hefty. Difficult to justify in some cases. Some of the starters were actually dearer than the mains in many other establishments. Even in The Hand and Flowers. Which, in itself, is odd. Added to which the service charge is selected for you on the bill. So, in effect, you end up paying not only for the bread and the 'complimentary' whitebait, but the gratuity is decided for you. However does a restaurateur then judge whether he has pleased a guest with such an arrangement, or not. Decisions about tips really should be the province of the diner.

A tough route this, for many of these Michelin star inspired chefs. I don't envy them at all. I sometimes wonder if they even enjoy it anymore. It cannot be an easy life, especially when one has has to keep everyone permanently happy, including Trip Advisor and Twitter. And, in truth, can that even be done these days?

This was our last stop for this trip, our time, as ever limited. From here we drove back to the Midlands, dropped our motorhome off to our friend's place, then headed for the plane home. Another lovely trip complete.