Pubs with rooms are as trendy now as naked dining or pork pulled by a hairy aborigine in an oak-smoked loin-cloth made from eucalyptus leaves.

The term B&B or guesthouse on the other hand dates a place quicker than a hostess trolley and a serving hatch.

Which is why the The Star at Sparsholt probably had mixed feelings about being shortlisted for the Hidden Gems accommodation award, when it's a pub that does brilliant food above and beyond everything else.

We did spot a few men in suits actually, picking up their room keys, when we arrived for dinner, but within minutes they had changed into their fatigues faster than Clark Kent in a phone box and were back, feet firmly under the table, chowing down on head chef Matt Williams’ fascinating food.

Matt is young, ambitious and keener than the finest mustard and his reputation, or that of his food, certainly precedes him.

Sparsholt by the way, as is so often the case with Oxfordshire’s great gastro pubs, is in the middle of nowhere, somewhere near Wantage, blimin’ miles away, but my friend still approved when pulling up outside amongst the horse boxes parked on the verge , like a scene from a Jilly Cooper novel.

Inside The Star is more like a crofters cottage, or hunters lodge, all antlers, cowhide rugs, and a whitewashed roof with rafters.

The bar was equally as appealing, especially the Rock Rose gin from Scotland served with orange peel.

Then homemade bread with buttermilk butter, the latter so light and fresh it had to be forcibly removed from my vicinity.

The menu was fairly eccentric , the familiar mixed with the unusual and the downright barmy – crab with avocado ice cream, salmon with gin, tonic, lemon and cucumber sorbet, pork shoulder with a white pudding terrine, piccalilli and hazelnut. But I’m a sucker for a courgette flower, in this case tempura’d and served with rosary goat’s cheese, apple and walnut, such a fleetingly seasonal, delicate and precious summer offering, although the flower was rather overpowered by the batter and the goat’s cheese (£7.95), a lighter soft cheese might have fared better, but still a wonderfully accomplished, delicate dish.

My friend opted for the more traditional chicken breast Caesar salad with gem, poached hen’s egg and croutons, without the anchovies (£7.50) which she raved about, except the egg wasn’t quite poached. But the dressing was a masterpiece and there was a generous amount of parmesan and some beautifully cooked chicken to enjoy instead.

Then the slow beef sirloin and home cured salt brisket with beetroot gratin, spinach and horseradish (£22.50) which was so tender and carefully cooked it took our breath away, the beetroot gratin an inspired accompaniment and a perfectly reduced flavoursome red wine jus.

It was the warm Thai infused quinoa with spring onion, watermelon, English feta and spiced coconut sauce (£14.95) which took the tuille biscuit though, ordered mainly out of curiosity, because it sounded more like a taste invention than a dish. I was intrigued with the flavour combinations. How could they work? It sounded most unlikely and a bit wet.

I have to take my hat off to Matt though because what emerged, although teeth-grittingly hard to describe, was little short of a miracle – the quinoa cooked in the coconut broth to create a taste extravaganza, served in a ramekin sized mound of Asian goodness surrounded by impeccably cooked al dente fondant potatoes, which actually tasted of potatoes, the gentle feta complementing the sweetness of the watermelon completed with some braised spring onions, green beans and broccoli. A mad concoction if I’d ever seen one, and a brave dish, but one I will never forget.

Then the treacle tart, oh my goodness the treacle tart, served simply with clotted cream and orange, again skillfully executed to allow the softness of the treacle to immerse the trace of orange against the crumble of pastry. The sticky toffee soufflé with salted caramel parfait and butterscotch (£7.95) was another fine pudding, the dusted icing sugar reaching your tongue just before the airy softness of the heavenly soufflé, the butterscotch sauce served in a jug on the side.

All- in–all an exciting, dare-devil, fly-by-the-seat-of-your pants, gripping ride of a meal that had me holding on for dear life. So bring it on Matt, I can’t wait to see what you come up with next but if dinner was anything to go by, it’s going to be exciting.