Shropshire Magazine

Henry Carpenter enjoys a meal a deux in the north Shropshire village of Grinshill Pictures: Mike Hayward

Grinshill, with the Inn at its centre.

Grinshill, for those who don’t know it, is one of those charming, old-school little villages which stops just short of being placed in the quaint chocolate-box category.

It’s only a few miles north of Shrewsbury, not far from Wem, and it basically consists of an animal rescue centre, a handsome church and a cluster of houses, many of them newish, all lying in the shadow of the eponymous hill, which is well known for its red sandstone and views from its summit.

The stone quarried from the hill was, incidentally, used by the Romans to build Wroxeter, and more recently it has been used to build Chequers, the PM’s country residence in Buckinghamshire.

But that’s by the by. Enough to say that it presents a fine village scene, just the sort of place that needs a watering hole at the very least to quench the thirsts of its numerous ramblers and visitors. And it’s got one, though it’s something more than a bolthole for locals and walkers in need of a pint.

Seared king scallops, black pudding croute, spiced apple sauce.

The Inn at Grinshill is, as the name suggests, an inn which, by all accounts, has a series of comfortable, plush and modern rooms. And yes, there is a bar – called the Elephant and Castle, though I’m not sure why – which serves a good array of ales and there’s nothing to say that people can’t prop up the bar as in any self-respecting wet pub.

But the reason I visited was because for years I have heard excellent reports on the inn as a wonderful place to have a meal.

It was a good start. There was a raised fire in the bar area which lifted the spirits and warmed the cockles on what was a chilly and slightly gloomy March evening.

A smartly dressed young waiter offered us a drink and a menu to cast our eyes over in the comfort of one of the plush chairs while nursing a gin and a vodka, both accompanied with tonic, naturally.

A cracking menu it was, too (it has changed a little since our visit), with informal staples such as soup of the moment – not even the day! – chilli cheese nachos, Thai green curry and steaks jostling with the likes of sesame-seared foie gras with Sauternes jelly, warm brioche and poached raisins, and loin of red deer with a milk chocolate risotto and artichoke carpaccio.

Breaded lamb cutlets, mozzarella potato cake, spaghetti, vegetables and charcuterie sauce.

It was at this point that we met the ebullient owners, Kevin and Victoria Brazier, who became increasingly conspicuous as meeters, greeters, chatters and dutiful enquirers of whether everyone was enjoying their meals.

One thing which I found slightly disquieting was that Kevin was wearing his overcoat and scarf in what was a thoroughly warm and cosy environment, giving him the appearance that he had a stinking cold; we subsequently found out it was because he was on the verge of popping out for a quick smoke but then kept on being detained by the workload in the restaurant.

And it was busy – packed in fact – which was perhaps to be expected on the Saturday evening before Easter.

Having made our choices we were led through to a table in the bright, fresh well-laid-out restaurant. Like the bar area, it had a warm atmosphere to complement its comparative smartness, and it struck us that this was one of those places which is good to visit all year round.

Shortly our starters arrived. A king scallop and pancetta sandwich with maple and lemon syrup was tremendous, with the pancetta’s salty crispiness offsetting the firm, juicy sweetness of the scallops. But if that was a triumph it was nothing to Debbie’s wild mushroom risotto. A discerning critic of this particular favourite of hers, she declared it the best she had tasted. It was refreshingly light, not remotely stodgy, and had been drizzled with a subtle, herby oil.

So far, so good. My lamb cutlets came with pearl barley and bacon, and white onion relish. Very good it was too, with the cutlets cooked as requested – just a little bit pink – and an excellent marriage of flavours between the pearl barley and the tangy relish. The small ocean of pearl barley was, perhaps, a little much, and I thought that was me done for the evening for food.

Summer pudding, vanilla mascarpone.

Debbie’s pan-roasted pheasant breast came with parsnip mousse and red cabbage, though she added a portion of mashed potato from the ‘bit on the side’ section of the menu. All good, especially the veg, though she wished that the pheasant had been cooked a fraction less. It still went down swiftly and on reflection she admitted that it probably came as she had asked for: medium.

The pudding menu had to be tried, and Debbie’s baked Boston cheesecake earned high marks, though she would have preferred a little more of the base. My sticky toffee pudding – which I had to squeeze in even though I was practically gasping at this point – was fabulously rich but, mercifully, light enough to allow me to stand up afterwards.

The Inn at Grinshill is not cheap, but that is not to say that it was poor value. Although the bill came in at a shade over £100, that included drinks and a very good bottle of Côtes du Rhône; the service was faultless throughout the evening.

The dining room.

It was well worth the money in fact, and there are few restaurants in the county which strike as good a blend as here for quality of food, with chef Jeremy Stone obviously highly accomplished, in surroundings which are well-spaced and elegant, but at the same time relaxed and unpretentious.

We left to find Kevin Brazier contentedly puffing on his belated cigar in the car park. He gave us a cheery farewell, a personable gesture and a fitting one in that it rounded off an evening which had already left us with a warm glow.

• The Inn at Grinshill, The High Street, Grinshill, Shrewsbury SY4 3BL. Telephone 01939 220410. www.theinnatgrinshill.co.uk