Dorrington's Horseshoes, Dorrington

You'd have thought it would be the easiest thing in the world to do. Call a restaurant, book a table. That's the way it works, isn't it?

In recent weeks, the answer has been a resounding no. The phone rings out, or connects to a machine saying 'nobody's available to take your call'. If recent experience is anything to go by, Friday evenings in restaurant land are the times NOT to call.

No matter, the half dozen restaurants who have missed out on reviews may still feature on these pages in coming weeks – if we can get through on the phone.

Dorrington's Horseshoes mans the phones. Whoop. And the person who answers it is helpful. Double whoop. And there are tables available. It's the little things in life that make this reviewer happy.

The pub sits on the side of the A49, between Church Stretton and Shrewsbury, and there's been a coaching inn on the site for more than 300 years.

It was so-named to reflect the horseshoe shape of a row of cottages to the right hand side of the building. The premises have evolved down the years and in recent times underwent an impressive redevelopment. It is bright, sparky and at the hub of modern village life. There's a capacious bar in soft wooden tones, with plenty of standing room for thirsty drinkers. And, while I didn't encounter them on my visit, there are also five en-suite bedrooms, providing a boutique experience for overnighters.

There are numerous ingredients in the creation of a good pub. A fine selection of ales, a prepossessing environment and a group of amenable staff are among the prerequisites. Pubs stand and fall, however, on one even more important ingredient. It's something that money can't buy: atmosphere.

Dorrington's Horseshoes has it in spades.

It seemed as though the bar was packed for the annual Shropshire village comedian's conference. There were more jokes than a Tim Vine gig. Raconteurs, bon viveurs and would-be stand-ups exchanging tales that could easily find their way into a Greg Davies sketch. To describe the bar as lively would be like describing a Maserati as 'pretty quick', or a diamond as 'costing a few bob'. The place was jumping as locals got on with the all-important weekend business of getting their parties started.

The two bar staff were working at a terrific lick. I caught the attention of one lady, who seemed to be the bar manager and whose voice I'd recognised from my phone call. I asked whether it would be okay to eat and she nodded in the affirmative, pointing me in the direction of the restaurant.

While the bar had the atmosphere of a Bill Haley concert circa 1956, the restaurant was altogether more peaceful. It had been decorated in neutral shades, was modestly adorned and a small number of couples were enjoying dinner à deux.

It was understated and impressive in its simplicity.

While the lady managing the bar was impressively productive and had great people skills, her waitress was a little slower off the mark. After being seated in the restaurant, I was left alone for too long. The waitress was neither unpleasant nor discourteous: far from it. She was charming and happy to help. Her apparent inexperience, however, was coupled with a lack of confidence. Though she worked hard, her skills were not a match for those of the senior worker. She needed a little more polish, nothing more.

The menu was pretty good. There were sharing platters, which have become increasingly popular in recent years, such as the tempting-sounding fish platter comprising whitebait, garlic king prawns and smoked salmon.

There were uncomplicated starters, with soups, parfait and similar rubbing shoulders with more adventurous choices. There were plenty of sides and the option of main courses featured pub staples such as burgers, fish and chips and steak, as well as a limited number of fine-dining choices.

I opted for the Japanese panko-breaded squid with a sweet chilli sauce, rocket and lemon. I got something that was a pale imitation of the dish I'd hoped for. The rocket was absent. It had been replaced by a wan salad, which was all lettuce and tomato. The chilli sauce was barely detectable – there was a thin streak beneath the squid, no thicker than the trace a slug leaves when it slithers across a shiny floor. The squid, however, was a delight. The panko coating was golden and crisp while the texture of the squid was impressive. It had not been overcooked, so as to become rubbery: the chef had got his timings spot on.

My main was a guinea fowl supreme with bubble and squeak, carrots and jus. It was reasonable, without sending my senses into overdrive. It was like the next best thing, rather than the crème de la crème. The carrots were undercooked and still a little too crunchy, like warm crudités. The bubble and squeak was perfectly fine but the guinea fowl was a little overcooked and underseasoned. The gravy underperformed; it lacked intensity and richness. The right things were on the plate; but they didn't coalesce in the way they might have done. A few tweaks here and there – an extra minute on the carrots, a minute or two less on the guinea fowl, and a more accurate reduction of the jus – and it would have been a starrier dish.

I stuck around for pud, ordering a Belgian waffle with ice cream and a rich toffee sauce. The waffle had been griddled so that the outer was golden and crisp, the toffee sauce was an intoxicatingly calorific combination of butter, cream and sugar while the ice cream was fairly good.

Service was fair-to-middling. The waitress didn't return to the my table to ask whether everything was fine. A little more confidence and a greater degree of interaction would have made for a more pleasant experience.

Back in the bar, the party was coming to life. I felt as though I'd been in the wrong place; as though the grass was greener across the great divide.

Dorrington's Horseshoes was better than average. If you're unsure whether or not to take the plunge, the advice is simple: get in the car and drive, it's worth it. There were aspects that impressed – the self-assured work of the brunette bar manager, the quality of ingredients, the cooking of the squid and dessert.

There were other parts that underwhelmed: timid service, inaccurate seasoning and misjudged timings on elements of the food.

The great British cycling manager Sir Dave Brailsford has a philosophy of 'marginal gains'. The concept is based on improving all of the little things by one or two per cent. If you do that across the board, the overall effect is substantial improvement.

This place is certainly heading in the right direction and does some things pretty well. If it applied Sir Dave's principles to the areas of underperformance, its restaurant would start to match the high quality of its bar.

ADDRESS

• Dorrington’s Horseshoes, Main Road, Dorrington, Shrewsbury SY5 7JD

• Tel: 01743 718305

• Web: www.dorringtonshorseshoes.co.uk

MENU SAMPLE

STARTERS; Grilled Welsh goat's cheese, spiced & pickled pear, toasted walnuts, balsamic glaze – £7.25; Pan seared pigeon breast, black pudding, confit flat mushroom, red wine glaze – £7.25.

MAINS; 21-day matured ribeye steak, garlic butter, beef tomato, confit flat mushroom, hand cut Maris Piper chips – £18; Scottish salmon fillet, saffron crushed new potatoes, samphire grass, white wine & dill cream sauce – £14.95.

SIDE ORDERS; Garlic, cheese, tomato ciabatta – £4.50; Hand cut chips, garlic & herb aioli – £2.50.

DESSERTS; Sticky toffee pudding, toffee sauce, amaretto ice cream – £5.50; Berry poached pears, honeyed mascarpone, salted caramel ice-cream – £5.25