We accidentally set the satnav to shortest, rather than quickest, route to Cranborne, so on the last leg of our drive the roads become narrower, the banks on each side higher, and the grass up the middle of the lane longer. I’m slightly alarmed at the thought of someone coming the other way – passing places are few – but we do get up close to Dorset’s gorgeousness: rolling meadows, flowery cottages, hedgerows exuberant with cow parsley.

Cranborne doesn’t let the side down: its 300 or so houses sit in a fold of Dorset Downs, backed by an ancient stone church and manor. On the village square, Mark Hartstone has run La Fosse, his restaurant with rooms, for eight years, using skills learned at such hallowed places as Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons and Chewton Glen.

Mark welcomes us into a cosy, interesting sitting room in the early-Victorian front half of the house – aubergine and eau-de-nil colours, a feature wall of tree-printed paper, leather armchairs, games and playing cards. I also like the nubbly hessian flooring on stairs and corridors as we head to our room at the back, in a part of the house that may date from the 12th century, when King John hunted on these downs. The floors undulate almost as much as the landscape.

There are six guest rooms, including a suite; ours, Old Sarum, is one of two “spacious doubles”. It’s certainly roomy, with light pouring in from two windows, but its looks, particularly the large floral pattern on the curtains and bedspread, don’t quite live up to what I’d admired downstairs. Mark and his wife, Emmanuelle, took La Fosse over from a couple who were retiring, and I wonder if maybe it hasn’t changed much since. Low, faux leather armchairs are comfortable, but a bit gothic feeling, and space is given to rather naff repro antiques – a writing desk with silly little drawers and two spindly whatnots holding table lamps.

Such disregard for 21st-century design tropes is in some ways refreshing, and the essentials are fine, from the super-kingsize bed to the spotless modern shower room with big bottles of Cowshed toiletries. But there’s no power cable for the digital radio/iPod dock, and though there’s a little cafetière with the tea things (on a wholly unnecessary nest of tables), there’s no ground coffee.

However, after a day tramping the countryside – East Dorset council has great downloadable routes at dorsetforyou.com – we find that the aromas wafting from the open kitchen window below our room distract us from any quibbles about the room.

Mark tells us he’s like a sponge, soaking up influences from all the chefs he’s worked with, all the countries he’s worked in. The list of suppliers on the back of the menu, however, would please the most ardent locavore: much is from this village, half from within 10 miles. The resultant daily-changing menu is eclectic and alluring. Amuse-bouches set the sophisticated tone: tiny cucumber rolls with enoki mushrooms and tamarind dip; little pots of hot celeriac soup with apple. My starter Thai fishcakes are feather-light and delicately spiced, but the standout is my main course of duck – crispy leg plus a few slices of rosy breast – paired with haricot beans and “sea buckthorn stir-fry”.

Sea buckthorn? Me neither (I learn later that they’re berries from a spiny coastal shrub). They add a zingy sourness to the stir-fry (carrot, wild mushroom, samphire) and are a magical foil to the rich duck and the mealiness of the beans. My husband wolfs New Forest asparagus with duck egg, then fly-caught trout from a local chalk stream, but I’m too busy going on about this marriage of meat, beans and astringent berries to take much notice.

I stop rhapsodising to turn my attention to the cheese: Mark is a several-times winner of Dorset’s Best Cheeseboard. His mostly local selection is as varied in style and texture as any French plateau de fromages and excellent with a dark, oaky petite syrah from Mexico (all wines are available by the glass). Husband goes for dessert as well (rice pudding with brandy cherries), which I call sheer gluttony, though I can’t blame him for wanting more of Mark’s food.

Should I point out that all these delights – plus breakfast including freshly smoked hake, and wonderful marmalade made by Mark’s aunt – are served in a dining room with flowery carpet, battered Ercol chairs, and swirly blown vinyl paper on the ceiling? Maybe. Would that stop me going back? Definitely not.
• Accommodation was provided by La Fosse. Doubles from £69 B&B, three-course dinner £28.50, The Square, Cranborne, Dorset, 01725 517604, la-fosse.com

Ask a local

Claire Whitehead, owner Cranborne Garden Centre

• Walk
One of many great walks from Cranborne is to Penbury Knoll, about four miles away, and mentioned in Tess of the d’Urbervilles.

• See
Cranborne Manor Garden (cranborne.co.uk, adult £6, child £1) is open on Wednesdays only in spring and summer. It’s 15 acres but still feels like a private garden. On a hot day a stretch of the Stour river near Pamphill is perfect for swimming, with a gravel beach and clear water. There’s a well-preserved Roman villa at Rockbourne, good for kids doing the Romans at school; otherwise they will enjoy Honeybrook Farm (adult £6, children from £4), which has a great playground and farm animals. Older ones might like the Dorset Heavy Horse Centre better (dorset-heavy-horse-centre.co.uk, £8.95, family ticket £33.95). The pedal tractors are very popular, and there’s go-karting, donkeys and goats, and 12 massive carthorses.

• Eat
In Tollard Royal the King John Inn is a great foodie pub, with an outdoor kitchen for barbecuing. And in Rockbourne the Rose & Thistle is a thatched pub, built in 1580, with a good reputation for food.

• Event
On 20 June, Cranborne holds its village fete in the manor garden (2-4pm), with a quintessentially English mix: croquet lawn, maypole dancing, Pimm’s.