Restaurants

Partridges, Chelsea, London SW3 The New Inn, Cerne Abbas, Dorset

The old King's Road – of Mary Quant in the Sixties, or the punks of the Seventies or Sloane Rangers of the Eighties – is now as remote as the Montmartre of Toulouse Lautrec. Save for one indomitable outpost of originality and sophistication, it is just another bland British high street. No one under 40 would believe that fashions were begotten here when Dalston was just a junction.

Yet, if you go down to those woods again, you'll be sure of a big surprise: Partridges, formerly of Pont Street, is still purveying water rat rillettes and snail pâté. My daughter, Honor, works at Popin, a new deli in Pimlico station. So I thought I'd show her where my former landlady, April, used to buy Skippy peanut butter and other delights back in the 1980s.

Fortnum's and the Harrods Food Hall may have sold out but, at 47 years old, Partridges under the gentle leadership of John Shepherd, the founder's brother, still has a sense of humour.

Most delis are slaves to the French gastronomic hegemony, but Partridges welcomes all comers: it was the first shop in the UK to sell Ben and Jerry's ice cream, and John has opened startisan markets to support embryonic food businesses.

We were there on a Christmas goodies run, but lunch beckoned. We shared a Berry Go Round smoothie before Honor had mashed avocado with poached egg on toast, and I had the very best mushroom-and-truffle risotto, on which Partridges devotee Dirk Bogarde might well have supped; I had a glass of MâconLugny in honour of his slender figure. All of it was a bargain given the location.

The countryside seems to be in constant danger of being not just

wrecked but exploited as a commercial brand. Dorset is just such a victim. Its name, redolent of inscrutable beauty and gruff integrity, is being co-opted to endorse non-indigenous products, from tea to raspberry vinegar.

Some will blame Thomas Hardy, as Cumbrians must surely regret Beatrix Potter, but those authors encouraged visitors – not branding. This plight formed the main conversation topic of our recent 25-mile walk from Blandford to Dorchester with our stalwart Dorset friend John.

Our raised voices and melodramatic anguish might have convinced any passerby that we were the reincarnation of the Tolpuddle Martyrs, notwithstanding the fact that their cause extended a little way beyond the indignity of Dorset coffee.

Dinner at the halfway stage of the 16thcentury New Inn in Cerne Abbas soon quelled most of our irritation. To our delight, not one dish on this versatile menu was prefixed with ‘Dorset'. Just plain ‘crab' and ‘venison' – not ‘Casterbridge crab' nor ‘Woodlanders venison'. OK, so the beer was called Jurassic, but brewers are known to think they're at their funniest after a barrel tasting. While my wife, Josephine, had some crispy chorizo arancini, I went for Foie Royale, a surprisingly rewarding goose-free imitation of foie gras. Ever on the lookout for such flammery, John was not a little disgruntled by this name appropriation. Praise be that he wasn't with us the following week, when my wife ordered vegan black pudding.

Partridges, 2-5 Duke of York Square, SW3 4LY; www.partridges.co.uk; tel: 020 7730 0651; open every day 8am10pm; breakfast from £5; lunch from £8.

The New Inn, 14 Long St, Cerne Abbas, DT2 7JF; www.thenewinncerneabbas. co.uk; tel: 01300 341274; main courses £14-22; rooms available.