5 North Street, Winchcombe, Gloucestershire (01242 604 566). Meal for two, including wine and service, £60- £90
I am not, by nature, a patient man.
I do not see patience as a virtue. Being nice to old ladies - now that's a virtue. Not punching Max Clifford when you have the chance because, really, what's the point? That's (probably) a virtue. But there is nothing virtuous about not complaining when your mate who's always late is late again, or when some cack-handed baggy-arsed chef takes longer than the Jurassic era to get your bloody main course off the pass. See. I'm getting cross just thinking about it.
5 North Street, a restaurant in the pretty town of Winchcombe, all honey-coloured stone and dimpled windows, is good enough to make a patient man of me. This is because it is small. How small exactly? Two dozen seats small - so small that when Kate Ashenford opens the kitchen door to shout in the orders to her husband Marcus you can hear the back chat over the stove; so small that dishes do not hurry from the kitchen because the economics of such a venture allow for only a few cooks. At 5 North Street patience is not a virtue. It is a necessity, but fully rewarded.
Marcus Ashenford's food is evolved and refined, in the way of small restaurants which have sought and gained a Michelin star. There are all the flourishes you would expect at this level, but also a certain butchness, a willingness to engage with bold flavours and textures. It was there in the squares of dark, spicy Welsh rarebit which hid a layer of sticky, sweet rhubarb compote over the toast, served as a canape, and again in a doll's house cup of creamy white onion soup with cep oil.
There was also something strikingly autumnal about these dishes. Although it was fiercely hot, it was in fact a September day, and so it was pleasing that the season appeared to have played a part in the menu. All of which is a way of saying that, at base, Ashenford's cooking has a character all its own. He has a passion for what the Italians call 'agrodolce', the pointing up of flavours through the use of sweet-and-sour tones (and we're not talking Day-Glo orange Chinese food here).
Take a starter of a buttery tuna rillette with a pile of dainty pickled radishes and a pot of toothsome mango chutney. Or a second starter (I was by myself so thought a small tasting menu my duty) of a spiced duck ravioli. There is the nuttiness from pine nuts amid the shredded duck, then the sweet from a beetroot dressing and a lift of acid from the caramelised pears. And in a chicken main course, the skin crisp, the meat slow roasted to a point where the bones go spongy between the teeth. Beneath one piece of chicken is a tangle of red cabbage sweetened with raisins, beneath another, perched atop a gratin of potatoes and turnip, is a smear of arrestingly sour chutney. It takes skill to repeat this device multiple times and to produce food marked not by sameness but by consistency. And at a pretty good price, too. Lunch is £19.50 for three courses, dinner either £25 or £35.
It's not without its faults. The solid pasta in that duck ravioli showed less accomplishment than everything else, a passion-fruit parfait was on the icy side of chilled, and I really could have done without Dido on the sound system. But these are details - 5 North Street is a place of many virtues. Just don't go if you're in a hurry, because speed isn't one of them.
