Restaurant-wise, in these still uncertain times, there's little braver than attempting a fine dining restaurant outside the big cities. Perhaps if your ambition is cushioned by the deep pockets of a luxury country house hotel, you'll be OK. Or if you're an already celebrated chef. Or, at a pinch, if you've nabbed yourself a much-visited beauty spot. You could scrape by, Mr Michelin might condescend to visit and you won't be living in gibbering fear of every letter from the bank.
Which is why I have nothing but admiration for brothers Kieron and Michael Singh, respectively restaurant manager and chef, who have opened in a small market town without anything much to trouble the gastrotourist, unless you count the Jordans muesli factory. The view from their small windows it is, I think, two old cottages knocked together is of an Aldi and a car park. Despite the acres of (clearly expensive) crisp, starched linen, a dominating feature of the restaurant is two large air-conditioning units. It doesn't bode well.
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