That duff name apart, it's impossible not be infected by the energy in this ramshackle former orangery
You simply don't get more bucolic than the Ethicurean. Even its address reads as if it was written by Beatrix Potter. Perhaps that's why, as a confirmed urbanite, I've not been, despite the number of awards it's racked up without seeming to pause for breath. Well, that and the buttock-clenching name: if you wanted to come up with something that encapsulates smugness, pomposity and holier‑than-thou in one grating pun, you'd be hard pushed to do better.
So it's a surprise to find that instead of being run by the grog-blossomed, cravat-sporting foodie ponces the name suggests, it's the baby of the yoof: brothers Matthew and Ian Pennington with Paula Zarate and Jack Bevan, their first bricks-and-mortar venture after successful stints at local farmers' markets.
Maybe I'm going soft, but it's impossible not be infected by the energy in this ramshackle former orangery. From the poshest waitresses I've ever encountered – it's as if they're putting in a bit of work experience before getting engaged to Prince Harry or something – to the handsome, industrious kitchen brigade, it's all outrageously jolly. Funny, isn't it, how baking, pickling, and preserving have been wrested out of the hands of the Women's Institute and into the mitts of cute, whiskery boys? In among the jams and tray bakes, a negroni arrives with a stick of rhubarb by way of swizzle stick: you don't get much more hip-but-earthy than that.
The food is almost entirely terrific, be it the rib-sticking simplicity of a vast wodge of mustard-laced rarebit with a salad plucked from the garden, or the intricacy of soused mackerel, sweet and sharp, dunked in a clear, saffron-tinted broth with rock samphire, ribbons of cucumber and carrot, and a bracing mint granita. There's suitably gamey pigeon breast on a nutty, pearl barley orzotto, all rich with sauce bordelaise; its salt-baked, candy-striped beets are almost too much. Almost.
The only things that don't come off are a salad of pickled pollock, Chew Lake trout given the gravad treatment and a granular cobnut romesco. The elements don't cohere and the fish is sour and ill-mannered. And a soup that, despite the effort that went into its creation – horse mackerel, fennel, truffle oil toasts – is tepid. But puddings, oh my… well, you'd forgive them anything.
You might find garnishes of borage or sea purslane; or dishes such as salt-cured roe deer with juniper and star anise, or goat and lovage meatballs. They make their own goat bacon. Goat. Bacon. There are cleverly chosen biodynamic and natural wines, and all manner of real ales and ciders. They're equally at home serving hipsters, fractious children and the kind of upholstered matrons who'd have been manning this kind of operation not long ago.
We take a post-prandial stroll through the exquisite walled gardens, built in 1901 for tobacco scion Henry Herbert Wills, past the apple press and via the polytunnels – well, seems rude not to. They're the work of gardener Mark Cox, who must take as much credit for what appears on the plate as the kitchen brigade, since he grows a lot of it. Because, of course, the Ethicurean's main USP is klaxoned by that name: it's all about the sustainability, the local suppliers, the foraging and the growing their own – to the extent that the place won Best Ethical Eats in the Observer Food Monthly Awards last year.
The whole thing is almost too good to be true. No, it's not luxurious or highfalutin', but it doesn't try to be. Like some kind of Disney villainess with a cat's arse face, I'm scratching around for faults, but other than making me feel mean-spirited for trying, there aren't any. If this is the face of worthy, I like it. If ramming an outstandingly squidgy toffee apple cake, thick with home-grown fruit and dolloped with cinnamon cream, into my face is all virtuous and locavore, count me in. After all, we all like to do our bit.
• The Ethicurean, Barley Wood Walled Garden, Long Lane, Wrington, Bristol, 01934 863713. Open lunch, Tues-Sun, noon-2.30pm (3.30pm Sat & Sun); and Fri dinner, 6.30-9.30pm. Three-course meal, £25-£30 a head, plus drinks and service.
Food 7/10
Atmosphere 8/10
Value for money 8/10
Follow Marina on Twitter