Telephone: 01803 863435
Address: 50 Fore Street, Totnes, Devon
Rating: 15/20

How rum, how very rum, to think that a world defined by Milton Keynes, the Daily Mail and Footballers' Wives should also encompass Totnes. Totnes is a marvel, a small town with a river and a crinkly main street and a shambling castle and a Shambles. But for one weird oddity (or is it odd weirdness?), it would be a vision of a kind of once-and-future England, the rural town of Ealing comedies, even, dare I whisper it, of Charles Windsor. For along with my own town of residence, Stroud, Totnes is reputed to have the largest concentration of hippies in the country.

There among the multitude of butchers (it's like stumbling across the last surviving colony of Siberian tigers or woolly mammoths) were an extraordinary number of premises offering alternative almost everything, particularly medical treatments. It's as if these flower- and other power enthusiasts had all been following ancient migratory routes, heading for the great Clapham Junction of ley lines at Avebury and Glastonbury, and simply fell off in these two towns, subsequently colonising them and adding immeasurably to their charm and energy.

Effings fits perfectly into this unlikely conjunction of elements. In its way, it is as unlikely a place to find fizzing cooking as the Euston Road Novotel I wrote about last week. In the foreground, as it were, is a deli, piled high with Italian Easter eggs, Spanish olives, French olive oil, Turkish delight, cheeses, hams, salami, marinated anchovies, grilled peppers and baguettes stuffed with variations of the above. In the background are some five idiosyncratic, but sound, tables, each with a fresh flower on it.

Any lucky luncher - of which there can't be more than a dozen at a time, I suppose - eats virtually in the shop. This makes for a very convivial atmosphere, because a good many of the customers at the counter are regulars who are greeted with cheery courtesy, causing the chef to dash from his stove somewhere at the back, exchange a few chaffing words with the friend before dashing back again. If this description evokes a domestic lunch party, that is precisely the effect that it gave. Effings is clearly run by people who are doing what they are doing for love of what they are doing, rather than as a serious rich-making operation. There is an engaging enthusiasm and amateurism in the best sense of the word.

The food also displays the same qualities and excellences. The dishes may be short on true restaurant polish, but they are rather longer on those virtues that tend to get passed over in favour of professional gloss: freshness, directness and generosity. There is a kind of snack menu, consisting of salads and plates of high-quality ham and salami. The dishes of the day are written up on a blackboard at the back of the shop, and these range from the sophisticated to the plain spoken. These were dishes that the kitchen wanted to cook, rather than ones cloned off another menu or with ingredients and combinations going the fashionable round.

The sophisticated side of Effings' repertoire was represented by flaked brill in a saffron jelly with a sour cream foam and rugby ball of avruga caviar on top. Coq au vin with confit new potatoes and choucroute spoke up for the straightforward (the term is relative) tendency, while a pudding of pain perdu with spiced fresh pineapple and fig balsamic vinegar took me to the realms of Masterchef.

If the concept of the dishes was essentially that of a talented amateur, the execution suggested a pretty accomplished hand. To distribute little nuggets of fish, diced pepper and herbs throughout a jelly is more than a stir-them-all-in-and-hope-for-the-best business, as I know from bitter experience. The jelly had a delicacy, too, that let the flavour of the fish, veg and herbs rise through it. The use of the salty roe to season the dish was another expert touch. The coq au vin, on the other hand, was as classic as classic could be, as robust as the first course had been dainty, gutsy and hearty with shallots, mushrooms, lardons and a booming reduction. The potatoes had been browned in duck fat and the choucroute, rather than the fermented version of cabbage favoured in Alsace, had simply been salted for a few hours, which meant it kept its texture and freshness. The pain perdu and pineapple ensemble was an intriguing balance of sweetness, creaminess and acidity.

So how did I end up with a bill of £41.85 for lunch in a deli? I had a glass of Lustau Almacenista Manzanilla to go with the excellent olives and almonds before the main event, and two glasses of wine from a short, intriguing list, with a further glass of vin santo with pudding, and these made a substantial contribution. First courses were around the £6 mark, main courses between £11 and £18.50, with puddings weighing in at £5.25. So Effings isn't exactly a cheap eat (although I could have eaten more cheaply), but it is a fine eat, and a fun eat, and it shines like a good deed in a naughty world, even in Totnes.

· Open Lunch only, Mon-Sat, 12 noon-2.30pm. Wheelchair access.