Telephone: 01256 389224
Address: Lower Wield, near Alresford, Hants.
Rating: 16.5/20

I sat outside in warm autumn sunshine, a pint of Alton bitter on the table in front of me. The golden, hazy light made the red, fishscale tiles on the front of the Yew Tree glow like embers. Crikey, I thought, this is all right.

I was waiting for Filomena and lunch. Not that she was late. I was early. In fact, she suddenly appeared in a rare moment of 20th-century bustle on that quiet back lane. She ordered a glass of white wine. "Crikey," she said, "this is all right."

Classy beer and tucked-away location apart, the Yew Tree is less of a gastropub than a restaurant - dining room, service, all the trimmings. The proprietors are Christopher and Donna Richard, he at the stove and she everywhere else. The menu had more than a bit of French classicism about it, which I always find tempting, but plenty of character in the detailing of the dishes to suggest the presence of a thoughtful soul in the kitchen.

It wasn't hard to feel a tingle of anticipation at the thought of partridge with wild mushroom risotto. Anticipation is one thing, satisfaction another. I'm not convinced about the dish as a combination, but I couldn't fault the parts. To me, a risotto is something whole and entire unto itself, not a vegetable garnish. A little thing, I know, but we all have our idiosyncrasies. That said, the rice, whatever you like to name it, was fine. And the partridge was masterly - moist, succulent, tender, delicate, juicy - and then gone. Filomena, meanwhile, was into a layered salad of avocado and bacon with savoury filo biscuits and balsamic dressing: a smart updating of the 1970s warhorse. The biscuits added a welcome crunch and flavour fillip, and the acid sweetness of the vinegar for once justified its billing.

The cooking of her Barbary duck breast also confirmed real skill in the kitchen. The breast was fully cooked (ie, pink, not red), and not shrivelled, which happens all too often when duck breast is cooked off the bone. It was moist, succulent, tender and juicy as the partridge. The ding-dong cherry sauce was another ransacking of the classics, the astringency of the fruit putting the bite on the rich meat. That's what Filomena said, anyway.

For me, it was calf's liver and black pudding, a ziggurat of protein, centred on the plate and balanced on a foundation of firm mash. The arrangement said a good deal about the ambitions of the kitchen, and the perfect cooking of the elements - liver firm but tender, its delicate sweetness blending well with the unctuous blandness of the sausage; grain mustard mash adding zing, and an excellent, refined classic onion gravy - said a good deal about the technical proficiencies of the kitchen.

Filomena wanted cheese with which to eke out the rest of our bottle of classy Pic St Loup, while I had raspberry biscuit millefeuille, which was strictly seasonal and strictly delicious. The final clue to the direction the Yew Tree is taking was given by the bill: £111.15, food accounting for £59.20 of it. This is more in keeping with fine dining than the aspirations of the average gastropub, but the Yew Tree pretty much justifies the billing.

· Open Lunch, Mon-Sun, 12 noon-2pm; dinner, Mon-Sat, 6.30-9.30pm. Menus: Lunch, Mon-Sat, £14.95 for two courses; £18.50 for three. Wheelchair access (no disabled WC).