Newtons

Newtons has been split in half since last time we visited. You enter via a cosy, living-room of a bar - all stripped floorboards, grand fireplaces and cream-painted brick - before taking your table in the adjacent restaurant. It's easy to see why this is a much-loved local. Our ebullient maître d' insisted we change tables to allow ourselves more space, and discreetly raised the volume of the football on our return to the bar: the kind of hospitality that makes you want to grab a striped armchair and order another bottle. The owners support fellow traders too (our bacon burger came with a tangy wedge of cheese from MacFarlane's across the road, as did the abundance of mustards and relishes), though they could have invested in a better bun. Another main of chilli and herb-crusted cod was a succulent treat, yet the meagre portion made us long for something more substantial. Fortunately, we opted for the freshly made puddings and were rewarded with an unctuous sunken chocolate soufflé boosted by mint-leaf-dotted ice-cream, and a zesty blueberry mousse topped with hazelnuts. Perhaps this isn't a destination restaurant, but once you've found Newtons, you'll find it hard to leave.