The Three Horseshoes, Batcombe

We were incredibly lucky with the weather on a mini-break to Somerset, in that it only rained some of the time, not all of the time. I am a huge advocate of tourism in rural UK, and have yet to find a part of the country I didn't get on with at all (and I've been to Blackpool), but the fact is it really really helps if you get a bit of sun. Pootling around the back lanes of Batcombe in the morning sun is a joy - slightly less fun is battling your way home through driving rain in soaked jeans under a £7 Boots umbrella that really isn't up to the task.

To offset the threat of inclement weather spoiling our attempts to holiday, then, we find it helps to have a nice gastropub dinner to look forward to. The Three Horseshoes is owned and run by Margot Henderson, of Rochelle Canteen fame (a place I enjoyed very much), and this village pub in a quaint 18th century building was the hook from which we'd hung our four day trip. If nothing else, even if the skies thundered and gales blew, we'd be able to escape the storm for a few precious hours of a Tuesday night and have a nice hearty dinner.

Events kicked off brightly enough, with a martini. It's probably too much to expect a local pub to have space to keep frozen glasses, but they'd made up for it with a superbly cold drink, and how many local pubs do you know that can make a martini anyway? Was only £10 too - take that, London.

Food-wise, things began more shakily. My own starter of mussels was pretty disastrous - unseasoned, almost entirely flavourless things in a thin, characterless "sauce" which tasted of little more than sweet vegetable stock, it must have taken real skill to turn fresh (I assume) mussels into something so insipid. The one saving grace was a slab of toasted sourdough underneath which was - bizarrely - lovely, although when we asked for a separate portion of the same bread they said they didn't have any. Odd.

Other starters were good, though. Fish soup had a robust flavour and the rouille/mayo loosened it all up nicely. This came with giant chunks of more excellent fried sourdough they didn't have, adding plenty of crunch.

Early season asparagus were also excellent, served slightly warm under a blanket of genuinely great sauce gribiche, chunks of pickles and egg and herbs bound with a tart mustardy sauce and topped with crunchy breadcrumbs (that they didn't have). It's baffling that a kitchen capable of the fish soup and these lovely asparagus would think those mussels were worthy of sending out, but maybe they were a genuine mistake.

My main course was lamb and laverbread sausage, and a very fine thing it was too - lean and salty and packed full of flavour, even if this was just a case of sensible sourcing (presumably from a local butcher) rather than technical skill. However, the lamb jus that surrounded it was also superb, silky smooth and a perfect balance of umami, salt and fat. The creamed leeks - despite the addition of wild garlic - were a little bit boring but maybe there would have been too much going on if these had been as powerfully seasoned as the sausage and sauce. Overall there was still plenty here to enjoy.

Wild garlic also featured in the brill en papillote, a nice little traditional French affair which means the fish and all the veg steam together like a kind of buttery stew. The fish itself was lovely - meaty and bright white, lifted by a good amount of the wild garlic which we had seen growing all over Batcombe earlier in the day. And full marks to the Three Horseshoes kitchen for flexibility when it came to a dairy-free member of our table, who got the same fish simply grilled with a side of kale - a concession they were under no obligation to make but which was really appreciated.

But best of all - and I'm not being facetious here at all - was a portion of chips cooked in dripping, which had a brilliant deep flavour and stayed crunchy and crisp right until the very last one.

Desserts were also notable - particularly a rhubarb "pavlova" which despite looking like someone had dropped it from a height had the most amazing flavour, richly creamy and spiked with vanilla. Cider sorbet was decent - perhaps the texture was a bit rough but that could just be personal preference, it still didn't last long. Washed down with a glass of Somerset cider brandy, it made for a very enjoyable end of the evening and the calvados did a good job of fortifying us for the journey home - only a 10 minute walk to our Airbnb on the other side of the village but in conditions best described as "difficult". I must remember to buy a better umbrella.

But the Three Horseshoes was, despite the weather - or perhaps because of it, worth the effort. With plenty to drink and eat the bill came to just over £75 per head, pretty reasonable for 2026 and certainly less than you can pay elsewhere for a similar sort of thing. They're not reinventing the wheel here in Batcombe, they're just serving a solid, accessible selection of seasonal gastropub dishes that (mussels aside) generally deliver on style and flavour, and if I wouldn't make a special journey all the way out to rural Somerset to eat here, if I was local and looking for somewhere to shelter on a cold and wet March evening, it would be my first choice. And, admittedly, my only choice. But not a bad choice at all.

7/10

The Old Spot, Wells

Surely, I thought, surely I couldn't score the full set with my meals in Dorset/Somerset. I was due at least one dud, one hapless gastropub serving frozen fishcakes and Argentinian steak; at least one sweet vodka cocktail served on the rocks in a martini glass; a cheeseboard boasting Port Salut, Edam and a cheddar studded with dried apricots. I mean I'd travelled all this way to have my prejudices about provincial restaurants confirmed so I could write the usual sighing, smug, faintly patronising London-centric post about how this part of the West Country was "well on its way" to being a foodie destination but "not quite there yet". Wouldn't somewhere give me what I wanted?

The Old Spot was my last shot, and all the pieces were in place. A high street restaurant in a pretty old honeypot town is a classic location for a mediocre tourist trap, and that's exactly what I expected to find here in the shadow of Wells cathedral. Outside, this ancient building was characterful and welcoming; inside, it had been carefully stripped of most of the period charm and felt a bit like when they carve out some ancient Tudor building in Chester for a depressing new branch of Zizzi's. "Aha, I've got their number" I thought. "Bring me your laminated menu and a large glass of Pinot Grigio and let's get this over with".

Except those stubborn people at the Old Spot refused to play ball. Our welcome was charming and personable but also sharply efficient, a level of practised confidence about every movement they made. The menu wasn't laminated, or boring, or confused; it contained 15 carefully-chosen crowd-pleasing modern British/European dishes, making a decision about which to go for rather difficult. And the wine list, dotted with charming informal notes, contained some genuinely surprising options for pre- and post- dinner drinks, such as local apple brandy, Eau de Vie, sherries and Pineau des Charantes. Bella Italia this was not.

And then the food arrived, and that was it - I was defeated. It was, all of it, quite lovely, not least the house bread from master boulanger Bertinet in Bath, an attention to detail that informed every part of the food offering at the Old Spot.

Fish hors d'ouevres was springy pickled onion, a wonderful rich tarama-style roe paste, a croquette of some sort (OK so there was a fish cake, but it wasn't frozen) and a little beetroot chutney thing. All fresh, interesting, enjoyable.

But while the fish starter had been solid and very pleasant rather than anything extraordinary, Gazpacho was a supreme example, and a delight to eat. The tomato mixture was a deep orange, with a flavour that matched, rich and ripe and hot with garlic. Texture came from delicate chunks of lightly fried bread, neither tooth-breaking nor soggy but perfectly in-between. And finally, colourful chunks of cucumber, shallots and torn herbs, no element overpowering, and not an ingredient too far or too few.

Fillet of salmon came with a golden crusty skin, faintly oily, flaky flesh and a shrimp-caper-butter sauce that contained all the correct features (salt, fat, sugar) to compliment this, the third beautifully-cooked bit of fish in as many days. Even something as ordinary as boiled spinach seemed better than usual; probably because it was soaked in shrimp butter.

Lovely tender slices of lamb leg, all pink and bordered with crunchy ribbons of fat, sat upon couscous studded with Merguez sausages and blobs of hot harissa. As with the other dishes, there was nothing here going to win any awards for innovation, or wild liberties taken with flash ingredients, just nice fresh food, cooked well, served with the minimum of fuss by people who knew what they were doing. And sometimes, that's more than enough.

The second crème brûlée of the weekend, vanilla cream under a satisfying toffee crust, provided a full stop to this, the final meal of the weekend and with heavy hearts (though that may have just been indigestion) we traipsed back to the hotel to pick up our bags and headed back to Yeovil Junction station. Much like that glorious weekend in Cornwall, the restaurants and hotels in Dorset and Somerset had dazzled with their generosity, amazed with their skill and pretty much smashed apart any lazy preconception I care to held about extra-M25 dining. But unlike the 7-hour travel commitment to get to Cornwall, Yeovil Junction and the glorious Little Barwick house is 2 1/2 hours from Battersea. The West Country, you have done yourselves proud. Now, where's next?

8/10

We were guests of The Old Spot restaurant, 12 Sadler St, Wells, Somerset BA5 2SE. We travelled to Yeovil Junction with South West Trains. For the best offers go to www.southwesttrains.co.uk. (Most) photos by Hannah.