Jolly Frog, Leintwardine, Shropshire - food review

It is one of the region's most consistent restaurants. Though different owners have held the keys to Leintwardine's Jolly Frog, and though different chefs have plied their trade, standards seldom slip.

A good dinner, friendly and engaging service and a warm atmosphere are habitually on offer.

The prices are a little high, though, curiously, they feel somehow justified.

My whole plaice with new potatoes and samphire, for instance, was £18. At other restaurants, that might cause a sharp intake of breath, the way a plumber might suck air of his teeth when you show him a defunct boiler and say: 'How much to fix it, mate?'

And yet the simple economics of running an out-in-the-sticks restaurant make such prices palatable – just about. Think about it. Two chefs, one restaurant manager and during midweek service, hardly any guests. Simple maths mean lower prices would bring an end to the Jolly Frog. And that would leave Leintwardine, Ludlow and the rest of south Shropshire with a bunch of not-so-jolly former customers.

So although it costs a little bit more to eat at the out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere restaurant, the owners seem to be operating sensibly and making sure they stay afloat, rather than profiteering the way some do.

The Jolly Frog does many of the right things well. It has a small bar to the front of the venue, where guest beers showcase the region's many micro breweries. There's a selection of firm favourites on the Jolly Frog wine list, as well as a few new and surprising choices.

The venue is big on bonhomie and low on pretence. It has the atmosphere of a French bistro with simple wooden tables and seats and a casually decorated dining room that doesn't take itself too seriously.

The only boast on Le Froggie's website that's wide of the mark is that diners would struggle to eat as well and as cheaply in France itself.

That's nonsense. France has as many great bistros as Britain has potholes. Just as we have a Tesco/Sainsbury's Local on every urban street, so France has a decent eaterie or five in every town, village and hamlet. And the prices are much cheaper too. Still, why let the facts come in the way of a good marketing line, eh?

The Jolly Frog's raison d'être is the food, which is delightful. Robust, skilfully cooked and created with the minimum of fuss, the restaurant focuses on fish, with a few concessions to vegetarians and carnivores. So there are veg-based pasta dishes and cheesy soufflés as well as chargrilled steaks and ballotines of chicken. Curiously, it also serves fantastic pizzas. Though my friend and I avoided them on this occasion, I've eaten them previously and the authentic, Italian wood burning oven in which they are cooked ensures the crispest of bases. They're delicious.

My friend and I booked at the last minute. We'd intended to eat elsewhere in the county – only to find that restaurant was unexpectedly closed.

And so after a diversion through south Shrosphire that felt almost as remote and off-the-beaten track as driving along Route 50 in Nevada, we emerged at our intended destination.

It was empty, save for one other table – hence, one imagines, the slightly-inflated prices – and we had our section of the dining room to ourselves. We had a small selection of artisan breads while we perused the menu, a generously-stuffed olive bread was the pick of the bunch, offering a taste of Italy-meets-Ludlow.

I started with a delightful crab dish, featuring arancini with squishes of a chilli-infused, mayo-esque sauce, a saffron-infused aioli and a strip of what appeared to be seaweed.

It was delicious and exciting. The flavours were as rambunctious as the carnival in Rio. The textures and presentation was as enterprising and exciting as the Mardis Gras in New Orleans. It was eye-popping and heady, racy and thrilling.

My friend's starter was similarly accomplished and offered an equal dose of visual and textural pizzazz. Her escargot served with a deconstructed Bloody Mary was attractive and striking.

The flavours of Bloody Mary had been turned into gels, purées and set out like a piece of art, decorated with a circle of delightfully cooked snails. It looked like a six-hour clock with a red face, but prettier. And the earthy, mushroomy tastes of the snails were cut through by the piquant tomato and chilli flavours of the Bloody Mary. Winner winner roast snail dinner.

My friend's main was the course of the evening. It was reasonably simple but executed with skill and packed full of robust, ballsy flavour. A roasted cod fillet was served with a chorizo sauce, potato and thin slivers of truffle.

It was the gastronomic equivalent of packing Muhammed Ali in a ring with Mike Tyson, Joe Louis and Larry Holmes. Big, unapologetic flavours duked it out like brawlers vying to be top dog. And yet rather than competing, the flavours somehow seemed to marry. The earthy truffle was enlivened by the spicy chorizo, which, in turn, elevated the meaty, salty cod. Delish, in a word.

My main was good, though less exciting.

A whole baked plaice was served on the bone with a herby dressing, buttery new potatoes and a generous helping of fresh, salty samphire. Good food, simply served. What's not to like?

I responded to the dessert question with the speed of McLaren F1 tearing it up at Silverstone. The waitress laughed at my enthusiasm.

My friend did too. Though she smiled as her perfectly creamy crème brûlée was served beneath a caramelised topping that had just the right amount of crunch. She shattered through the caramel as though it were sugar glass and enjoyed every last spoonful.

My apple crumble was my favourite dish of the evening. A superbly buttery, crispy topping covered generous chunks of caramelised apple and a deliciously sweet caramel sauce. A ball of milky ice cream added contrast and a cooling presence.

We stayed to chat at the end of our dinner, the waitress leaving us to it as we continued our conversation. We'd enjoyed a gleeful evening of proficient and accomplished food in jaunty surrounds.

Shropshire has an exceptional independent restaurant scene and The Jolly Frog is very much a part of that. OK, so it's a little more expensive than equivalent restaurants in some of our towns, but it's one of a kind.

It's difficult to think of a better fish restaurant in the region – it knocks the spots off some of the chains that ply their trade locally.

The food is unfussy and cooked with skill, the service is warm and engaging and though it's a devil to get to, the drive is worth every mile.

By Andy Richardson