Alan Cookman

visits Loch Fyne, Knutsford

FACING us as we stepped inside were oysters, lobsters and

langoustines, neatly laid out on beds of crushed ice.

If this arrangement was calculated to whet one's appetite

for the ritzier fruits of the ocean blue, it was an unqualified

triumph.

Anyone intending to make do with a pair of kippers or a nice

bit of smoked salmon would take one look at this display and

upwardly revise his spending plans.

He might instead treat himself to a Loch Fyne Platter, a

princely assortment consisting of the aforementioned lobster,

langoustine and oysters, plus crayfish, mussels, scallops,

prawns, shrimps, crevettes, squid, cockles and clams.

This platter costs £44, although if you substitute crab for

lobster, it's only £34. Personally, I refuse to make do with

second best.

In any event, Herself vetoed my idea of sharing the lobster

platter on the grounds that you can have too much of a good

thing and I'm afraid The Son & Heir failed to support my

case.

That's partly because he'd quickly given Loch Fyne the once

over and rightly decided that their moules marinières - of

which he likes to consider himself a connoisseur - were sure to

be sensational.

Loch Fyne, which sells fish as well as serving it, is one of

a 40-strong chain of upmarket restaurants, sited mainly in the

prosperous south, but with a handful of venues in primitive

outposts like Shrewsbury, as well as Knutsford.

The operation is slick, and the surroundings are designed to

enhance the nautical mood, with fishy photos and prints and

restful images of misty lakes and seascapes.

To my left was a picture of a species of fish I've not come

across before - one with horns and a shaggy coat.

The waiter laughed and drew my attention to one of the two

meat dishes on the Loch Fyne menu: "Glen Fyne prime highland

8oz sirloin steak, dry-aged for 28 days" (£17).

I don't quite see the point of serving even two meat dishes

in a fish restaurant, but there you are.

Starters include salt and pepper Cornish squid with chilli

and coriander dressing (£7), spiced crab and mussel soup (£6),

and Loch Fyne smoked haddock chowder (£6).

I didn't hesitate in ordering the herring fillets in four

marinades - tomato, juniper and sherry as well as the

traditional rollmop - with crème fraiche (£6).

The fish was superb, and the marinades deliciously

different.

Herself had the excellent marinated Loch Duart salmon with

beetroot and fennel salad (£6), and The Son & Heir checked

out the moules marinière and judged it a classic - top quality

mussels, the right size, colour and texture, and plenty of them

too.

He chose well in the mains department as well, opting for

the Loch Fyne king scallops, pan-fried with garlic butter

(£14).

Herself had the pan-fried fillets of bream with rocket pesto

and roasted garlic mash, and I chose the whole lemon sole with

baby capers and parsley butter (£18).

The wait between starters and mains seemed unforgivably

long, however, especially since it was nearly 3pm and the lunch

crowd had gathered up their belongings and gone.

On reflection, I'm convinced my sole had been grilled for

some time before it found its way to the table. Due to a lapse

of concentration somewhere, it seemed it had been left lying

about and was therefore not exactly in tip-top condition when

it reached me.

I would have been within my rights to send it back,

especially as it cost a whopping eighteen quid, but my policy

is to do my complaining in this column.

By the way, my tiny dish of mixed salad was £3.50, seasonal

veg cost £2.50, and so do new potatoes, chips or mash.

However, most of the dishes were fine (Herself enjoyed a

scrumptious crème brulée for dessert) and we enjoyed the

setting and ambience.

As we left I made a mental note to treat Elliot, our ginger

tom, to a Loch Fyne Platter on his birthday.