Lords' star seems premature, but it was still a worthy Thanksgiving venue

Of all the many things to be grateful for this year, top of the list is the fact that my mother is still alive almost two years after a terminal cancer diagnosis, and managed to make it to England to visit us in our new home for the fortnight around Thanksgiving. That called for some celebration. So as the traditional American holiday approached, the two of us took off to that most English of spots: The Cotswolds.

We stayed for two nights at Windy Ridge, the cozy yet elegant B&B near Moreton-in-Marsh I discovered this summer. (See 27.7.10) On the agenda: A bit of sightseeing, a lot of lounging in front of the fire and one special dinner at The Lords of The Manor, a nearby luxury hotel whose restaurant was just awarded its first Michelin star.

Though an excellent meal for a price below London averages (£58 for three courses), I fear Lords was awarded its star a bit too early, as there were inconsistencies throughout. We start in the car park, where there is no lighting. On a moonless night, it was a blind shuffle to the gap in the garden wall, indicated by the lights from the manor house below. The light in the garden was burned out, so it was a good 50 yards from the car before I could see where I was going. Not a great start.

The amuse-bouche served in the bar while perusing menus was fish and chips. One small goujon of fish, a cone shaped, paper-lined glass holding three french fries and a tiny dish of mushy pea puree topped with half a hard boiled quail's egg. I've seen several TV chefs take this gourmet approach to the English version of McDonalds, and acknowledge it can be a clever way of appreciating the simple. However, if you're going to elevate such basic and familiar ingredients to fine dining, they'd better be good. Unfortunately the fish was overcooked and oversalted, and the chips unexceptional, making the pea puree the star of the little plate. In the dining room, excess salt became a theme, with the bread and next amuse bouche being so laden with it we actually had to send a message back to the kitchen to go easy. To their credit, they did, but it seemed a basic mistake at this level. My mother's main should have been hotter, and the home-made macaroni on it was flabby and leaden, obviously made by someone who has no skill with pasta. Clearly, there were some problems in the kitchen.

And yet, the highs of the meal were lofty. Start with the wine list, the first I've ever seen with an extensive by-the-glass selection that makes recommendations based on food. If having scallops, try this one. Pigeon, try that. A great concept. The dining room is a calm, elegant place of neutral tones and a few colourful pieces of modern art, presided over by an excellent staff who provided copious service, gave us lots of information about our food and chatted enough to liven up the meal, without overstaying their welcome.

A second amuse-bouche once we were at the table was butternut squash puree with candied walnuts and bacon foam; a fantastic blend of flavours and as close as we would get that night to Thanksgiving tradition. The bread tray featured a wide variety of home made delights, with onion brioche with cheese and a focaccia of sun dried tomato and garlic complementing the usual white and wheat.

As with most Michelin star establishments these days, the chef here makes a big deal about locally sourced ingredients. It's an information-rich menu, and you'll know which farm most of the stuff on your plate came from; much of it from "just down the road". I went for a particularly English meal, starting with pigeon before a main of venison. The former was done "three ways", a grilled breast, a tartared quenelle and a bite-sized pastilla. All were excellent and could have easily been expanded into a bigger course. The venison was the star of my show, however, with chocolate and port sauce and beetroot and celeriac mashes. The sauce was succulent, the meat beautifully medium rare. A perfect dish. Mom's choices were more mixed. She declared the scallops on her starter to be the best she'd ever tasted, but the sea bass main with truffle foam was only average. And, as discussed, much let down by the cold, rubbery pasta.

Moving on to dessert, the waiter brought us a lovely little palate-cleanser of vanilla and honey creme fraiche, mandarin jelly and grapefruit ice, served in layers in a shot glass like a tiny parfait. My chocolate delice that followed was exquisitely beautiful and so rich I couldn't finish, which is a rare circumstance for a chocolate lover like me. Clearly, whoever was doing the sweets was as good at his trade as the pasta maker was bad at his. I paid the £9 surcharge for Mom to have the cheese, served from an impressive board featuring 21 English varieties. A fan of really strong flavours (epoisses being her favourite), she was particularly taken with the stinking bishop and the Isle of Avalon, while of the tastes I stole, the milder, goat-based cerney pyramid was my pick.

Finally, this is a place where it's worth paying that extra bit for coffee. You get plenty for your £4.50 extra charge. First the java. Then comes a contraption like a toast rack turned on its side, stuffed with sweet, parchment-thin layers of pastry in a variety of flavours. Next, they wheel out a burled walnut casket which, when opened, reveals colourful ranks of macaroons. But you're not finished yet. One more casket arrives, this one filled with exquisite hand made chocolates. The waiters are generous with their serving tongs, thus sending me home with quite a packet of goodies in my handbag.

A fine experience on balance, with all the little extras delivering great value for money. It was a fitting Thanksgiving dinner. But they were lucky I wasn't a Michelin inspector.

Back at Windy Ridge, happily, everything lived up to expectation. The place is just as magical with frosted lawns and trees surrounding, mostly because the fire in the sitting room dances merrily away and keeps things toasty. As this was mid-week in the lowest of low seasons, we had the place to ourselves, and spent some long afternoons occupying the couches with books in hand and glasses from the honour bar nearby. Theresa's enormous breakfasts are even better when they're stoking you up to go out into the cold.

We did a tiny bit of sightseeing. Christmas shopping in Moreton-in-Marsh, a visit to the Donnington Trout Farm, a drive around Bourton-on-the-Water. But mostly, it was just about relaxing. And giving thanks for being together.