I ate out twice last Friday, in two of Oxford's handsomest buildings adapted for the enjoyment of food. Before turning to the main topic for today's article, a delicious dinner at a long-time favourite haunt of mine, Gee's in Banbury Road, let me first briefly mention lunch at the Trout at Godstow. I wish to do so in order that I can be the first journalist to sing the praises of the tasteful transformation of this lovely old pub, surely one of the prettiest in Britain, at least in terms of its setting.

My simple lunch featured butternut, white bean and chilli soup, followed by trout paté, with warm, fresh-baked bread, excellent olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I drank a glass of crisp New Zealand riesling and good strong coffee, which I enjoyed out on the sunny riverside terrace, until the wind became too much. On this brief encounter (and observation of what others were eating) I judge that the Trout at last has food to delight rather than disappoint its many visitors.

Gee's, of course, has long supplied such fare. There are those who consider it Oxford's best restaurant. Its only rival in my view, both in terms of cooking and ambiance, is the Lemon Tree at the opposite end of swanky North Oxford.

Gee's survival as a lovely building owes everything to its owner, Jeremy Mogford, the founder of Brown's, who had the foresight in 1984 to recognise the potential of the elegant conservatory, built in 1898 to the design of H.W.Moore, once its days as a flower and vegetable shop were over.

I remember, as if it were yesterday, standing with him in the empty shell of the building as he explained to me his ambitious plans for the place. There were to be similar meetings subsequently in respect of two more of his Oxford developments, first the Old Parsonage Hotel, a few hundred yards south along Banbury Road, and later at Barclays Bank in the High Street from which he was to fashion the Old Bank Hotel with its adjoining Quod restaurant.

A few weeks ago - another lazy Friday! - I joined Jeremy on a peripatetic lunch, à deux, in which we took in all three of these establishments. We began at Quod eating crispy squid with smoked paprika mayonnaise and plate of parma ham, accompanied by white burgundy (Macon-Charnay 2004), continued at the Old Parsonage with smoked Lincolnshire poacher soufflé with a walnut salad and pan-fried herrings with pancetta and baby beetroot (Sancerre 2005, Paul Prieur) and ended at Gee's with a grilled Jersey Dover sole with fresh clams, purple sprouting, boiled potatoes, followed by crème brulee and treacle and ginger tart with vanilla sauce (Chablis Premiere Cru, 2005, Domaine St Marc Brocard).

The sole was so fresh and delicious (and large!) that I was hoping for more of the same when I spotted the fish (sans clams this time) on the menu last Friday night. All were sold, however, which turned out to be no bad thing - as I said to the manager later - since it led me instead to another memorable fish. This was pan-fried brill, from the same supplier in the Channel Islands. Though a much humbler member of the finny tribe, it has a powerful flavour which was well set off here by salsify and bitter sauce, wilted spinach and fried diced potatoes (not to mention the Casa Rivas sauvignon blanc).

I began with beetroot and tarragon risotto, which had an excellent flavour. The rice had just the combination of tackiness and bite that I like. (Having never previously encountered a beetroot risotto, I was interested to see one being offered this week as a special at the Oxford Retreat, in Hythe Bridge Street. It must be a new fashion.) I had two happy companions. Rosemarie ate creamed spinach soup, followed by a gluttonous veal burger (a little too rare for her taste - and the 'medium' ordered) with pan-seared foie gras, fried egg and hand-cut chips. Her mum Olive (with us as an early Mother's Day treat) ducked a starter, having guessed (rightly) that slow-roasted belly pork with purple spouting, sweet potato and cider would be a feast.

That left room for her share of the plum fritters and creme brulee, of which I allowed myself no more than the tiniest taste.