Monkey are you having the ribeye?” a rather red-faced, well oiled, red-trousered diner shouted down a table in the centre of The Wild Rabbit’s dining room.

“There’s a reason he’s at the end,” Mr Greedy remarked. “Yes, it’s just a shame it’s ours,” I replied.

A couple were then seated next to us, admittedly in quite close proximity, before she got up without a word and moved to the other end of the restaurant. Her husband followed looking acutely embarrassed, shrugging as he left as if he was yet to understand the ways of the world.

The service was equally as abrasive. Finding it hard to hear our terrifying waitress we just kept nodding like the Churchill dog.

Seated at the back of the huge dining room with its theatre style open-plan kitchen, Mr Greedy faced a red curtain, and asked if he could move round a bit. “Yes,” our waitress said, marching off in the opposite direction, leaving us to pull out the table and move his cutlery, glass, wine and chair on his own.

There was lots of wine priced between £100 and £300. A small menu. Not a lot of choice. It was my birthday and I was beginning to regret my suggestion. The onus was that we were lucky to be there.

But then I wasn’t there for the decor, the charming Kingham village pub exterior, the posh locals drinking at the bar. I was there to check out Executive Chef Tim Allen and his Michelin starred food. And once our starters arrived, I did just that, all our grievances fading away with each heavenly bite.

The quail’s roasted breasts (£14) were beautifully cooked, served with Morteau sausage, smoked shallot, crispy leg and a verjus reduction.

The Daylesford salad was more of a seasonal collection of vegetables on a plate, an inspired and inventive mix of texture, taste and variety with whipped goats curd and a honey reduction.

Not only was it original but showed an innate understanding of how to transform the banal to the sublime and let each ingredient complement each other while standing on their own two feet. It cost £13, reminding one that The Wild Rabbit comes under Lady Bamford’s expensive baton.

Mr Greedy then opted for the veal rump, fricassée of braised veal, confit onion, truffle purée and baby capers (£26) which he loved even if it was rather similar to his starter. I went for the meeker Cevenne onions with grated chestnuts, roasted mushrooms, Parmesan air and crispy Daylesford kale, which I played with for a while.

To my alarm I then saw the head chef himself striding over towards our table and prepared myself for a Marco/Gordon style face off, expecting to be thrown out, handbag clutched at the ready. Mr Greedy paled and prepared himself like a man about to face the firing squad.

“We’re changing our menu tomorrow. Could I cook you something from that instead?” Tim asked me, innately understanding my seasonal malaise. “We have the first asparagus of the year and some lovely morels,” I nodded, mutely, and off he went.

The resulting dish was an exquisite and fresh crunch of asparagus, foam, truffle and slice of mushroom; a taste of things to come, all contrasting deliciously.

I was massively impressed that Tim Allen had not only spotted the problem, mid-service from the kitchen right across the dining room, but also sorted it, and for me that was worth a thousand of Monkey’s ribeye’s and all the dour service in the world. Tim Allen had proved himself, above and beyond the call of duty, and is now bestowed with a God -like status in our household.

Some heavenly desserts then followed: the puff pastry Cox apple tart with caramel and custard ice cream was light, crisp, delicate and delectable, the piquant apple warmed by the vanillary sweetness of the gelato, and then some gorgeous little, spongy, sweet, bouncy Madeleines served with coffee.

As we paid our bill (£117) the waitress whispered: “I’ve never seen the chef come out of the kitchen like that before, but then he rarely needs to.”

With food like that I can see why.

The Wild Rabbit: Church St, Kingham, OX7 6YA

thewildrabbit.co.uk

01608 658389

theteam@thewildrabbit.co.uk