Vane Arms Thorpe Thewles Near Stockton (from Darlington and Stockton Times)

THOSE of you who don't eat your greens as mother said you should might look away now, because this week I'm going to talk about vegetables.

Don't panic, I'm not going all veggie on you. But, as a general rule, vegetables are much under-rated in pubs and restaurants. In the fanciest restaurants, they are frequently relegated to the role of stand-in garnish, for illustrative, elaboration purposes only, and in too many pubs they consist of the standard medley of carrots and broccoli/cauliflower and peas, pre-cooked and zapped in the microwave to nuclear meltdown point just before serving.

To find a place where the same care and attention is given to the vegetables as to the meat and fish is rare indeed, so we were pleased to find the Vane Arms, in the delightfully-named Thorpe Thewles, just a few miles northwest of Stockton.

Some strongly flavoured creamed leeks, lightly browned on top, glazed carrots cooked just beyond crunchiness but before soggy squidginess and cubed, roast parsnip and sweet potatoes, slightly crisp on the edges - a beautiful, classic combo as Jamie Oliver would say.

The main event is equally wellprepared and presented. Sylvia enjoyed her chicken saltimbocca (£9.95), a variation on the Italian standard usually made with veal.

Three pieces of chicken breast had been beaten flat, and simmered in a Marsala sauce with sage leaves and Parma ham. Sylvia said it was good as anything she had eaten for weeks.

My Cajun blackened snapper with tomato salsa and sour cream (£10.25) was a lovely, meaty piece of fish. The spicy coating added a little heat but the salsa and sour cream provided a balance.

We had skipped starters, having had a substantial lunch that day, but enjoyed picking at a bowl of marinated olives (£4.75) which came with warm ciabatta bread and top-quality olive oil and balsamic vinegar for dipping/soaking.

I did manage a dessert, an intensely- rich and velvety chocolate creme brulee (£5.25) which had a nicely brittle burnt sugar topping and was accompanied by butter shortbread biscuits.

All of the above was prepared single- handedly in the Vane Arms' tiny kitchen by chef Joanne Tough, who sensibly sticks to a short-ish menu plus a handful of daily specials with the emphasis on simplicity and quality ingredients.

Most of the main course choices are under £10 which is pretty remarkable value for this sort of quality in 2008. Our total bill was only £36, which included a couple of drinks and some mineral water.

Last Saturday night, the Vane Arms was not packed because landlord Gordon McPhail clearly only takes the number of bookings the aforementioned Ms Tough can comfortably handle. Service was bit patchy because Mr McPhail was running front-of-house virtually singlehanded, but he did so with a great deal of charm and refreshing honesty.

He seemed a thoroughly likeable chap with a good idea of how to create a relaxing atmosphere for his customers.

Although the Vane Arms is still a pub, Mr McPhail, whose previous jobs have included running a Las Vegas guest house and looking after quality control at NASA, has carried out a gradual transformation of the building over the past four years. It has been extensively modernised but the period features have been retained and few added, like a spectacular stone fireplace in the main dining area.

Bare floorboards, exposed brickwork, squashy leather sofas, art deco-style lighting and a creamymocha colour scheme create a comfortable, almost sophisticated, contemporary bar-like ambience, but it is still a place where the locals can call in for a pint and a formal meal can be enjoyed.

Outside, the exterior lighting shows off the 18th century building at its best in the evening and there are also tables and chairs for al fresco eating and drinking with a view of the village green in the summer months.

Finally, we also approved of the toilets. Like vegetables, they are frequently forgotten. Thousands are spent on pub interiors to attract diners but the toilets remain the glorified cesspits found in oldfashioned boozers. That certainly wasn't the case here. The pristine white tiles looked clean enough to eat your veg off.

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