Telephone: 0114 266 6096
Address: 32-34 Sandygate Road, Crosspool, Sheffield
Rating: 14/20

Sheffield, city of David Blunkett, The Full Monty, silverware, tableware. Sheffield, university town, cathedral city, steel town. Sheffield, laboratory for John Ruskin's vision of social engineering, home to James Montgomery, journalist, editor and author of "Songs of praise, the angels sang". But Sheffield, centre of culinary excellence?

Both the Good Food Guide and the Michelin list this week's destination as, Thyme, which was known as Richard Smith At Thyme. But on my arrival at Sandygate Street, reached via one of the city's steeper slopes, the sign still said Richard Smith At Thyme, large as life and twice as natural, running the length of a redbrick building that looks like a successful dental practice. So there we are. That's clear, then.

Thyme, or RS At Thyme, or whatever, looks a bit like a successful dental practice on the inside, too, what with the white walls and blond wood everywhere, and vases stuck halfway to the ceiling, with flowers arranged for artistic effect on a minimalist basis, and the tables pretty full for a Friday lunchtime.

There was a loving couple catching up on Valentine's day; and a threesome of young women in executive suits; and a family party discussing the forthcoming wedding of one of their number ("You'd be mad to ask them. A complete waste of money"); some late arrivals, five men and a lady; a couple of regulars who looked as if they were running the Queen Mother a close race in the immortality stakes; and, well, all sorts, all ages, all sensible, worthy, well-to-do, serious, solid, salt of the earth types.

And me, single, solo, on my tod, tucking into terrine of wild pigeon, roast beetroot, grilled chorizo and truffled white bean dressing. That dressing had me a bit foxed. The beans were of the pulverised and creamed variety, shaped into lozenges arranged around a block of dark pigeon and darker beetroot. If that's a dressing, things have changed since I was a lad. Never mind, it was tasty enough. But not as tasty as the full-on chorizo, which was a humdinger, rather outshining, if truth be told, the pigeon bit. In fact, the pigeon bit was somewhat underpowered. It could have done with a bit more seasoning. Mind you, as a whole, the dish went down pretty well. The sum was greater than some of the parts.

Then again, that might have been the bottle of impactful Morgenhof from South Africa talking. It was a clonkingly serious wine, full of upper body strength, fully fruity around the middle with a rather intoxicating finish. And all mine for £23.50, which is as tempting a bit of pricing as I've come across in some time. In fact, for any oenophile of modest means, the wine list was temptation from start to finish. Where did you last see a serious Viognier with a bit of bottle age (1996) at £30? It was enough to take your breath away. Or it might have been, had I had it. But I didn't. I had the Morgenhof instead, because I thought it would go better with the terrine and then with honey and rosemary glazed shank of lamb with confit of vegetables, garlic mash and lamb gravy.

What a pleasure to welcome gravy back again, after years of jus, sauces and reductions. And what gravy it was - a lake of it, dark as mahogany, potent as a pint of porter, just the stuff you need with a lamb shank that must have come off a sheep the size of a horse. It had been braised to the point where it all fell into intriguingly shaped muscles at the touch of a knife blade. They, in their turn, were easily dissected, chewed and swallowed, each mouthful bearing testimony to the quality of the meat, as well as to the appropriateness of the treatment. I'm not sure about the honey glazing, but it tasted all right to me. The vegetables - carrot, swede and courgette - were good, too, square hewn and nicely cooked, so that they kept their texture. The mash, however, was a let-down: too gluey, with not nearly enough garlic for my taste.

It wasn't the fanciest cooking in the world, more straight down the line, sensible, well-crafted, with single flavours to the fore, pleasure on the line, satisfaction guaranteed, just the thing to set you, me, up for pudding: a parfait, in fact, that was a monument to a lust for rich and creamy substances. I scraped the plate clean.

"Did you enjoy that?" asked the exuberant service.

"Yes, I did," I replied. "Very much."

And the cost? Twenty quid, that's what: well, £20 for the food, and an additional £23.50 for the wine. That's very fair. There's a £10 two-course set-price lunch, which is even fairer; and mega-sandwiches at a reasonable £6-£8. But I was happy with lunch. It might not set the world on fire, but it certainly ensured a refreshing sleep on the train home.

· Open All week, 12 noon-2pm, 6.30-9.30pm (10pm Sat). Menus: Lunch, £10 for two courses; £20 for three. All major credit cards. Wheelchair access and WC.