I keep reading that Josiah Wedgwood and James Brindley met in

the cellars of The Leopard Hotel in 1765 to discuss the

building of the Trent and Mersey Canal.

Why the cellars? Was the enterprise so secret that they dare

not be glimpsed together in the public rooms lest rival

canal-developers catch sight of the blueprints?

Or were Wedgwood and Brindley notoriously intemperate in

their drinking habits, liable to offend other guests with their

raucous singing and risqu? jokes?

"You can have your meeting in the cellars, gentlemen, but no

loud music, exotic smoking materials or women of

ill-repute."

I have no idea, but it must have been less commodious below

ground than above, especially if the upper rooms were as

handsome then as they are now.

Stepping over mosaic tiles, the visitor steps into what

seems to be a perfectly preserved example of an Edwardian town

pub (although the building dates back couple of centuries

earlier).

It's the rich, dark polished wood, the stained glass and

decorative mirrors, the general maturity of the fixtures and

fittings that makes The Leopard seem like it's changed little

in a hundred years.

There are precious few places of its like left, and it's

good to know that the place is under new management and

seemingly destined for a belated renaissance.

In the meantime, the newcomers have introduced an ambitious

new menu that has made dining out in the Mother Town

considerably more interesting, especially for those with a

taste for the fruits of the ocean.

There are no printed menus, and we were left to scrutinise a

series of blackboards on which were described mouth-watering

dishes ranging from pan-friend black bream (£8.25) to half a

pheasant pot-roasted in red wine (£8.95).

And check this out: Staffordshire rabbit cooked in scrumpy

with celery, red cabbage and a bowl of real chips (£7.95).

I adore rabbit but have not yet got over the disappointment

of once being served one with a black hole in it. This

particular rabbit had not so much been shot as torpedoed.

At The Leopard, however, the emphasis is on fish, and so I

heroically went without the rabbit and opted instead for the

black bream, which comes with mushrooms, a creamy white wine

sauce, new potatoes and asparagus, and was almost too much of a

good thing. The delicate fish was in danger of being

overwhelmed by the creamy sauce.

But I did choose a non-fishy starter with a bit of bunny in

it: a salad of wild rabbit, bacon and new potatoes with honey

dressing (£4.25). It was sweet and tasty, but there were too

many flavours for the bunny to make an impact.

Herself started with the smoked mackerel pate, which was

truly out of this world, a perfect combination of flavour and

texture. If you could buy this in a jar I'd order them by the

gross.

She followed this with one of the house pies, chicken and

ham with a light puff pastry crust. It was a major pie for

£6.95 (they also do duck and orange and organic minced beef),

although she said the ham in it was two thick rashers of

bacon.

The proper chips, were demonstrably, memorably proper.

By the way, Arnold Bennett, who called the hotel The Tiger

in his novels, had a haddock and egg dish named after him at

the Savoy in London, but it didn't appear on the menu here.

Crab, squid, sardines and mussels are available, however,

and if you fancy beef, the 1lb T-bone is £11.50, while the

house steak cured in ale and brown sugar is £6.55. A half-pound

organic beefburger with a bun cheese and those very proper

chips is £5.95.

There's a special lunch deal - £4.50 for two courses - and a

good selection of lighter meals.

By the way, if the blackboard challenge makes your head

spin, have patience.

The new people are experimenting with a variety of dishes

and the bill of fare could be markedly shorter in the fullness

of time.

For the moment, they are eager to please - we all got

complementary pancakes on Shrove Tuesday.

If they keep up the good work I may consent to having one of

their dishes named after me.

Smoked mackerel pate Cookman, perhaps.

This review was first published in Sentinel Sunday on

March 4, 2007.