The Devonshire Fell, Burnsall

The weather has been hitting The Devonshire Fell a bit harder than usual this winter. One web jotter had logged displeasure in waking there in the grip of a January winter morn to find it had run out of heating oil. How can this happen? Apparently, it was a glitch with the boiler, not a shortage of oil. And the water spout? Wrong sort of rain?

Mostly, this is a bold and confident property. The welcome is more bistro than country house hotel. I would prefer the latter. The place stands a few hundred paces outside Burnsall, a picture perfect Yorkshire Dales village on the River Wharfe, liked by artists and tourists and walkers.

It was once merely The Fell, purveyor of ham and egg teas and doughty

lunches in a comfortable mid-20th century manner. At least, that's how I remember it.

The hotel now takes its first name from the Duke of Devonshire, whose shooting estate occupies, oh, 30,000 acres of this valley, centred on Bolton Abbey, where there is the des-destination Devonshire Arms Hotel, in the family for ages.

The service is certainly brisk. We were in no rush. The tomato juice was in a narrow flute, packed with so much ice that it could only be sipped – which leaves a red mark on your top lip. Eventually, I had a small mental uprising and sent it back. It was replaced by a large supply of luke-warm juice in a bigger, tall glass. It could have managed a bit of chilling.

The food is okay. Some of it is served on silly plates, such as the rectangular one used to display a first course of scallops.

The menu writer follows the keep-it-simple code. Example: "Seared scallops, cauliflower cream, smoked bacon, granny smith apple, balsamic". There were actually three scallops and, like the tomato juice, they were the wrong temperature, having lost too much heat on their way to the table or in the elaborate presentation.

On top of each were some apple shreds and, un-scripted, a purple potato crisp. I know this because they appeared later with my main course. They were dull and tasteless. The plate was much bigger than necessary. One blank side was occupied by fingernail-sized drops of cauliflower cream, each supporting a 6mm cube of pig meat. The other side of the plate had beauty spots of a dark sauce.

Apart from the lack of sustenance, I was enjoying this frippery with food. There was an entertaining table at the far end, loud enough to share their life. Later, a fine Lakeland arrived at the next table with his handlers, who were overnighting en route to Scotland. The terrier was larger than normal, had a good head and perfect hotel manners.

Pigeon from a North Yorkshire moor, lamb from Nidderdale, a beetroot and goat cheese tart, salmon fillet (source not declared) and fillet steak (ditto) were five main courses. I took the sixth: "Halibut, haricot blanc purre (sic), trompette mushrooms, haricot vert in hazelnut vinaigrette, purple potato crisp".

The fish, origin undeclared, had been baked hard on top, which caused a collapse when the knife went in. The potato crisps were a mere frivolity and the raw green beans little more than a decorative nonsense of fine chopped sections with a taste so elusive as to be meaningless. I was still hungry.

A side order, say mixed vegetables or "real" chips or sauted greens, would add 2.95 a shot – but more of prices later.

Pudding beckoned, with the request to allow 20 minutes for the Tatin. It beat the target time and the apples had not fallen and were, arguably, not quite cooked.

I think the meal was too expensive, and as long as the well-heeled are calling, nothing much will change. A line at the bottom of the menu in red ink says: "Please note an optional service charge of 12.5 per cent will be added to your bill."

Well, thanks for suggesting that to me. How do you decline without looking like a skinflint to your guests or making the staff feel inadequate? The embarrassment is heaped on the customer.

It raises the two-course menu from 26 to nearly 29.25 and the 32 three-courser to 36. The Valdepenas was spot-on, but the tip pushed it up to 28.40. Similarly, the vodka (2.15 and bottle of tonic 2) suddenly cost 4.66. Okay, you could save a packet for a group of diners by paying for your pre-prandial drinks in cash at the bar. It is not quite that sort of place but suppose you call in for a pint of Copper Dragon's new Freddie Trueman bitter. The Dev Fell charges a resounding 3 a pint. Put it on your tab and it is 3.37. We paid cash at the bar.

Verdict: A lovely atmosphere. Dinner is expensive, lunch is better value. On Monday nights they do wonderful plates of sausages, mash and Yorkshire pudding for 5.50 and a glass of wine for 1 or a bottle for a fiver (plus the optional 12.5 per cent).

The sausages are made by the village shopkeeper, but they don't mention this on the menu. They should. They are good. His flapjack is better.

The Devonshire Fell Hotel with Rooms, Burnsall, Skipton, North Yorkshire BD23 6BT. Telephone 01756 729000. Open everyday throughout the day. Disabled access: Yes, from the top car park.