It is the done thing, sometimes, to characterise the Cotswolds as a Stepford mess of villages bound by furious arguments over walled gardens and flower arranging. But it has its quirks, too: the wonky Bell is one.
The building looks like it’s had a drink, appearing as if it might stumble into the road nearby. Inside, it is tight with small windows and low ceilings, with a hard stone floor and blackboards everywhere. But the food — crikey, is it good. Peter Creed and Tom Noest do buttermilk fried chicken to travel for — Londoners can but dream — one hell of a cheeseburger and beautiful devilled kidneys on toast.
Wheels are not being reinvented or reshaped, but the execution is undeniable. Have the sticky toffee pudding, ask for sherry on the ice cream, and leave cheerful, glad the old place is still just about upright.
The Bell Inn, Langford GL7 3LF, thebelllangford.com
