The Plough, Winchmore Hill, Amersham, Buckinghamshire (01494 721 001).
Meal for two, including wine and service, £80
For some reason, when people join me for meals they become anally fixated. They lean towards me and whisper, conspiratorially, 'Don't we need to look at the toilets?' At first I thought it was a grubby come-on until I grasped the point: that there should be an obvious connection between the quality of food on the plate and the place where the food goes when the body is done with it, as if restaurants should be capable of keeping all elements of the digestive process covered. (Funnily enough, the crockery always does; Villeroy & Bosch make both plates and toilets.) There is also the argument that it is the attention to details - like keeping the toilets clean - which mark out a fine establishment. This, unfortunately, is not always the case.
At the Plough, the entertainment was on both sides of the loo door. At table, in the low-ceilinged dining room, all was peace and sunlight. There were white walls, a (faux) rough-hewn tiled floor, a few leather banquettes and fine views of the pastures outside. In the downlit loos, John Coltrane boomed from the sound system. I rather liked it. A bit of serious bebop can enliven any situation. Apparently, the music had been turned up in there when they were cleaning that morning and nobody had turned it down. They had also switched it off in the dining room, ghettoising the sounds. It may be the perfect - perhaps only - use for piped music.
In that dining room what mattered was the food, which is good in an uncluttered sort of way. As its name suggests, the Plough was once a pub. But this is a restaurant now, made most obvious by the menu which is laid out like that at the Ivy: starters at the top, working down through pastas, salads, fish and meats, with many dishes available in small or large. In my book this is a very good thing. Linguine with crab, red chilli and ginger (itself an Ivy dish) delivered flavours in layers: first the sweetness of the crab, then the blush of ginger, finally the hit of chilli. The tomato, chorizo and black olive sauce may have been too strident for the delicate gnocchi with which it was paired, but it at least had ambition.
The stars, though, were the mains: for me a thick, and perfectly grilled, chop of Gloucester Old Spot pig, butched up with a smear of browned Gorgonzola butter, atop a pillow of smooth olive oil mash; for my companion, a gamey duck breast with creamed Savoy cabbage and bacon, which is one of those unarguable combinations. We also had a side of triple-cooked chips, made following the Heston Blumenthal method, by one of his former chefs who is in the kitchen here. They are the best thing that can result from the combination of hot oil and potato. Pudding was of the Eton mess and white chocolate cheesecake variety, which is to say, designed by someone with the kind of sweet tooth familiar to any parent of a six-year-old. I say this admiringly.
Starters are around £5 and main courses loiter about the early teens, though there is also a three-course lunch for just £11.95, with three choices at each. Other attractions include the 20 wines by the glass and the charming service. And, of course, John Coltrane in the khazi blowing his own horn.
