I met a man in a pub who said, "You should try Holbeck Ghyll. I went there the other day for lunch with my wife, and we had a fabulous meal, really very good." As his son was a chef, he seemed like a fellow whose word was worth taking, and so I did, and he was right.

The first thing in favour of Holbeck Ghyll was the attitude of its staff. If I say that Brother James and I arrived just before 2pm rather than the 12.30pm I had originally booked, you will get some idea of just how confused my map-reading of the highways and byways of the Lake District became. By the time we eventually found the right turning off the right road, I was on the verge of a major panic attack at the thought that we might miss lunch altogether. The staff, however, were as unvexed, unconcerned and uncritical as it was possible to be. In spite of the fact that we were the only lunchers, and that, in theory, the kitchen closed for orders at 1.45pm, they were soothing, charming, easeful and efficient.

The second thing in favour of Holbeck Ghyll is its secluded position, on heights commanding Lake Windermere. Through the windows of the dining room, the waters of the lake shimmered below us. Light and shadow, shadow and light, swept over the jumble of hills beyond. The panorama changed with the passage of clouds, as mercurial as the handsome, art deco oak panelling of the dining room was immutable. In fact, the beauty of intelligent craftsmanship that took in panelling, stained glass and furniture was the third bright aspect of Holbeck Ghyll. And the food was the fourth.

Now, I have to be careful what I say here. A few years back, I reviewed another Lake District establishment, Michael's Nook, and gave it a right wigging, and unless I am mistaken, David McLaughlin, the chef at Holbeck Ghyll, had been in the kitchen of Michael's Nook at the time, although not in charge of it. Well, if he was, I beg his pardon, because the lunch that he put on for Brother James and myself was exemplary, intelligent and as beautifully crafted as the interior of the building.

"Lunch, Saturday 5th July, 3 courses £25" declared the menu in large type, so there could be no mistaking how much we were going to pay on the food front: no hidden extras, no cover charge, no service charge, nothing extra for bread or vegetables - £25 on the nose and no nonsense. There was, of course, the matter of liquid refreshment - two glasses of sprightly pinot grigio, a bottle of sumptuous marsannay from Bouvier, a snip at £32 from a thoughtful, considerately priced list, coffee and a single glass of armagnac - which came to £54 in all.

For £25 a head, there were three choices at each stage, and I would have cheerfully eaten the lot. As it was, I ate roasted scallops with celeriac and truffle, followed by daube of beef with pomme purée and root vegetables, and then a selection of British and French cheeses. Brother James had terrine of rabbit, foie gras and chicken with sauce gribiche; best end of lamb with shallot purée and rosemary jus; and date pudding with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce (as recommended by doctors).

Scallop and celeriac? Lamb and shallot purée? Maybe they're not exactly weird or wacky, but all the same they're not the first combinations that spring to mind - though they will be from now on. The celeriac had been rendered to a voluptuous, velvety smoothness, more of a sauce than a purée. Its mild, creamy earthiness was a beautiful accompaniment to the fat scallops, each capped by a slice of black truffle, like a judge's hanging cap. The effect of the truffle was enhanced by the judicious use of truffle oil, one of the very few occasions that I have found the inclusion of this usually noxious substance justified. Similarly, to purée shallots to use as a sauce rather than as a decorative vegetable shows a beady mind at work, which understands the principles of flavour and pleasure. The dulcet fruitiness of long-cooked shallots makes a perfect foil for well-sourced, well-hung, well-flavoured lamb.

Unlike the rabbit terrine mush at the Savoy Grill reviewed last week, the Holbeck Ghyll version was a firm, closely set affair, with what looked like haricot beans forming the binding matter. Rabbit, particularly with chicken and foie gras, is never going to deliver a bunker-buster flavour, and this was characteristically mild, but distinctive, not least due to the nuttiness of the beans. My daube of beef was a cultured, summery version of the hefty, bourgeois original. A single slab of perfectly cooked, juicy, fibrous meat rested on top of airy mash with hand-crafted carrots, potatoes and parsnips scattered about in elegant, amber, lissom juices. Brother James's date pudding showed a similar lightness of touch, without losing sight of its fundamental, prep-school appeal.

By the time we took coffee and the single glass of armagnac in the sitting room, the afternoon had far advanced and the panic of earlier long receded. That deeply agreeable sensation of wellbeing that good food, good wine and good conversation induce had taken firm control. I paid the bill of £104.15 as cheerfully as anyone could.

· Telephone 015394 32375. Address Holbeck Lane, Windermere, Cumbria. Open Lunch, 12 noon-1.45pm (book 24 hours in advance); dinner, 7-9.30pm. Menus Lunch, £25 for three courses; dinner, £42.50 for three courses. Wheelchair access & WC.