YOU can perhaps guess the reaction of friends and acquaintances when I let slip that I was dining at Warmingham.

"Do you really think that's wise, sir?" said one. "You stupid boy," said another.

Several told me not to panic and one declared us all to be doomed.

Yes, I know this says quite a lot about the kind of company of keep, but there you are.

As it happens, Warmingham, as opposed to Walmington-on-Sea, is more Midsomer Murders than Dad's Army.

It is located deep in Cheshire farming country, a pretty village where every other vehicle is a tractor.

The River Wheelock flows under a bridge close to The Bear's Paw, and beyond it stands the beautiful church of St Leonard.

Warmingham is not easily found, though, (bravo, Satnav), but the effort is richly repaid.

The Bear's Paw, now a 17-bedroom hotel and "gastro inn," became part of the Nelson group's portfolio of select country properties in 2008.

It was closed for refurbishment, but only weeks before the scheduled re-opening the fine Victorian building was gutted by a devastating fire.

Only a shell was left, but a handsome shell, and the owners invested a cool £2.5 million on a massive restoration programme.

That's an awful lot of money, but a glimpse inside The Bear's Paw was enough to convince me that the outlay was well spent.

Although there's seating for 130, the dining space is so designed as to feel like a series of elegant rooms, all half oak-panelled, with quality furniture, tasteful decor and an amazing gallery of interesting or musing period prints (we were seated next to a picture of a Bentley at Le Mans in the 1930s).

The menu changes daily, if only slightly, but the assiette of pork (£13.50) that caught my eye on our downloaded menu had gone.

I'd rather fancied the "crispy belly pork, apricot and sage stuffing, black pudding chipolata, crisp pancetta, sweet potato dauphinoise, buttered spinach and apricot purée."

Herself had already spoken for the lamb, and I thought the honey roast duck breast, stir-fried with noodles and a soy dressing seemed a tad pricey at £16.95.

Some of the fish dishes were tempting, but we'd already agreed to share the fish deli board (£9.95), so I finally opted for the Caesar salad.

I suspect Herself would have preferred the charcuterie deli board (also £9.95), rather than the fish one, and it did sound good: Parma ham, duck rilette, chicken liver paté, Cheshire ham, half a Scotch egg.

Served with rustic breads and chutney, our fish board comprised a generous portion of tangy pickled herring, some smoked salmon, smoked trout and tempura battered anchovies.

I thought this was a good value starter at under a five apiece, although I think Herself's judgement was clouded by her having rather had the cold meats.

Her main course was outstanding, though: four-hour slow-braised rolled shoulder of lamb (£14.25), with Mediterranean vegetables, spring cabbage and sauce vierge.

The meat was melt-in-the-mouth stuff, sweetly flavoured and perfectly complemented by the selection of vegetables.

Compared to this dream dish, my Caesar salad might have seemed humble.

But it was a classic of its kind, with plenty of salty anchovies and Parmesan shavings, to go with bacon so crisp it might have been freshly ironed, moist fillets of chicken breast and perfectly-dressed salad.

Cheese seemed the obvious choice to round off the meal – until I noticed that cheese and biscuits would set me back no less than £9.95.

I questioned this with the helpful young man who seemed to be in charge, who said the cheese platter was the same as cheese deli boards.

I said I didn't want to share, but nor did I want to pay £9.95 for cheese and biscuits.

He agreed to split the cheese board and I was charged £5 for the superb Blacksticks blue and the Sandham's Lancashire.

Herself had the Eton mess (£5.50), with fresh strawberries, meringue and Chantilly cream.