Hambleton Hall, restaurant review: 'Back in time to the world of PG Wodehouse'

The setting is the stuff of fairy tales: a hunting lodge from 1881 overlooking a gigantic lake in the smallest county. After a spell as a glittering rural salon that attracted the likes of Noël Coward (which explains the appearance of the Master in half a dozen elegant photos in the gents' loo), Hambleton Hall was opened as a country house hotel by Tim and Stefa Hart in 1979, three years after the arrival of the UK's largest reservoir.

A three-course lunch in such grand circs will set you back £68, but on weekdays Hambleton Hall offers a "Lunch for Less" at £26.50 for two courses with two choices for each course. "Sounds interesting," said Samuel, who edits the food pages of this journal. That might have been the mission but I discovered that it requires a steely resolve to stick to this modest outlay. You are deftly steered off-piste from the moment you book a table for 1.15pm. "So that's 1.15 for cocktails with lunch at 1.45."

Seated on a vast sofa in a spacious drawing room overlooking Rutland Water, there was a powerful sensation of having slid back in time to the world of Wodehouse. "You can be Bertie and I'll be Aunt Dahlia," whispered my wife. A cocktail didn't seem a bad idea after all. We plumped for two Quo Vadis aperativi at £11.50 – a brisk refresher of Campari, citrus and prosecco named after the London flagship of the Hart's restaurateur offspring Sam and Eddie. This was helped down by superior nibbles of whitebait with tartar and a construction of melon and Parma ham – like a little explosion in the mouth.

Lapped by luxury, I found it hard to keep my mind focused on Lunch for Less. From a hefty wine list, I could have gone for a muscadet at 20-odd quid or even a pint of Timothy Taylor Landlord at £6.50, but a white burgundy from Marsannay caught my eye ("imbued with a pleasant waxy texture"). At £40 it was only a bit less than the cost of the whole meal. At least I didn't go for Musigny Grand Cru 1990 at £1,450.Breathing in the atmosphere of a less hurried era, we scarcely noticed the passage of time. A waiter occasionally appeared to plump up cushions deflated by ample bottoms. You don't go to Hambleton Hall for fast food. It was 2.30pm before we were invited to take lunch.

Seating around 30, the dining room resounded to the chat and chortles of the comfortably-off middle classes. Our waiter's warning that "the foie gras has all gone" suggested that most diners were enjoying the full monty.

Any flickers of impatience at our protracted wait were extinguished by the arrival of starters that displayed a masterly use of humble ingredients by Hambleton Hall's long-time head chef Aaron Patterson.

My wife's terrine of beetroot with horseradish sauce sounds nothing much, but the slice of perfectly cooked chunks in jelly, topped by Parmesan macaroons, was tasty and addictive. Surrounded by a golden halo of deconstructed piccalilli, my ballotine of ham hock proved to be a jellified cylinder of minced head meat topped with a baby tomato of hallucinogenic redness. On dissection, this trompe l'oeil was revealed to be a sphere of creamy parfait double-dipped in tomato jelly and topped with a persuasive stalk.

Our mains continued the transformation of the quotidian into the exceptional. My immaculately well-mannered shoulder of lamb – melting, fruity chunks pan-fried to produce a caramelised crust – was accompanied by orange couscous and profoundly flavoured tomato and aubergine. My wife's seared salmon fillet, not normally a dish that gets the pulse racing, was elevated by a foamy saffron sauce and partnered by ratte potatoes and shallots of startling sweetness.

After such gastronomic alchemy, it seemed mean to skip the puds (£6.50). My wife's lemon tart had been lightly tanned by a quick blast under the grill and enlivened by raspberry sorbet. An apple sorbet was supposed to do the same for my apple and semolina soufflé. This was impressive in appearance, billowing over the top of the pot like a chef's toque, though less so on the palate. "Delicate," my wife said generously, but I couldn't catch much in the way of flavour.

And yes, of course we had coffee (£4.75), which arrived with the best petits fours I've ever had, including chai tea macaroons and blackberry chocolate truffles. My wife was particularly impressed by the grapefruit jelly pastilles: "Look – it quivers!"

Including a 12.5 per cent service charge, the bill was £150. It turned out to be Lunch for Just a Bit Less. If you want to enjoy one of its constituent pleasures, visit the restaurant's bakery near the village of Exton. All the bread is good but the rye is sensational: £2.70.

Food ****
Ambience *****
Service ****

Hambleton, Oakham, Rutland LE15 8TH (01572 756991). £33 or £68 per person, before drinks and service