The second in Blog Preston’s series on the best and worst reviewed eateries is The Brown Hare, part of the Marston’s chain.

Situated just off the Roundabout of Terror in Penwortham, it’s garnered reviews that mention ‘stale bread’ and ‘bacon fit for knocking nails into a wall’.

I kept this information to myself when I invited my 76-year-old mother Yvonne to join me, because I was still spiky about the blueberry squabble at Fino Tapas last week.

Review: The Preston City Centre tapas restaurant that deserves its Fino ratings

We arrived a few minutes after it opened for lunch so the car park wasn’t busy. Walking up to the main entrance we noticed a revolting smell of stale tobacco, the sources of which we discovered were two magnificent bouquets of cigarette butts packed into ashtrays on either side of the doors, and several dotted around the tables in the outside dining area.

Our first impression was so unpleasant that, if we hadn’t been there to review the restaurant, we wouldn’t have gone inside. However, in we went, to receive a cheery welcome from the staff and an invitation to sit where we liked. We didn’t take it literally as then we’d be back in the car, so we chose a table for two near a bay window.

On closer inspection the table top had a number of dried, sticky rings on it, which was the second off-putting element before we’d even ordered food. However, a staff member apologised and gave it a good clean when we brought it to her attention. 

We asked about an offer advertising 30 per cent off main courses, and were told that it applied to every main dish on the menu, which made the prices quite reasonable. I chose the home-made chicken and chorizo kebab, which came with oven-baked garlic flatbread, crumbled feta cheese and pomegranate seed salad, honey, fruity chilli sauce and seasoned fries, and Yvonne went for goat’s cheese lasagne with butternut squash, charred peppers, spinach and goat’s cheese, dressed side salad, garlic ciabatta.

The mains arrived quickly, which was good for diners on a lunch break but also indicated that there is probably a busy microwave in the kitchen.

Yvonne’s meal looked uninspiring, and the salad was dressed in nothing but its own mortification. We asked for some dressing and the kitchen sent out a small bowl of plain olive oil, which we were told was the usual dressing for the salads. We were then brought some kind of creamy dressing, which was much better.

Although the lasagne could have done with a few more minutes under the grill, it tasted far better than it looked. The ratio of goat’s cheese to other ingredients had successfully found the sliver of safe territory between ‘there’s no goats cheese in here’, and ‘a goat has shoved its manky hoof in my mouth because I’m not throwing the contents of this bag down its neck fast enough, and now I can taste its soul’.

The garlic bread was present.  

The fries that came with my kebab were hot and crispy, and the chicken on the kebab was nicely cooked without being dried out. With chunks of chorizo going well with the crunchy peppers and onions, that part of the meal was a success.

The server asked us if everything was alright, which it was at that point – as I hadn’t yet had a good look at the garlic flatbread, crumbled feta and pomegranate seeds salad, honey and fruity chilli sauce under the kebab. 

The salad looked like someone had wiped their feet on the flatbread after a walk in the park. There were a few tendrils of wilted, browning, green stuff, a squirt of white dressing, two cherry tomatoes and a smattering of pomegranate seeds. It made me wonder if the unfortunate, floppy, bread product was flattened by hand or merely by the crushing embarrassment of being severely underdressed in public after the salad had fluttered on to it. 

No honey, no fruity chilli sauce, and how the chef had managed to crumble such a tiny pebble of feta without a Large Hadron Collider is anyone’s guess. 

Yvonne finished off with a coffee, and I ordered an espresso martini tiramisu dessert for £6. It came with a full jug of cream, and despite it being a ‘bought in’ item, it had a good flavour and consistency.

When we went to pay the bill the 30 per cent wasn’t deducted, making the lasagna £11.25 and the kebab £12.75.

After querying the receipt we were told that we should have asked the server which mains were included in the 30 per cent discount offer. We said we had, and were told it applied to the kebabs and all the other mains. As she returned what had been overcharged she commented we should have also informed her when we asked for the bill that we wanted 30 per cent off.

Every restaurant makes mistakes, and this was just a small one that could have been easily remedied by checking with the server who took our order instead of blaming a customer for failing to micromanage the entire ordering system. Our failure to empty the ashtrays that were still stinking up the door on our way out went unnoticed.

Read more: Review: Penwortham’s local deli for local people

In fairness, the Brown Hare has a 5 star food hygiene rating, which isn’t easy to achieve. So although highly unpleasant, the sticky table and overflowing ashtrays may have been due to staff absences or other isolated, unforeseen reasons.

However, the disinterest from the kitchen in what they’re sending out, the microwaved, mediocre food, and the staff’s lack of knowledge regarding the restaurant’s own offers and ordering process indicate that there are ongoing failings to blame for the number of consistently poor reviews.

The more positive points were the cheery, helpful server, the speed at which the order left the kitchen, some moderately nice tasting items of food and the inoffensive music.

This Penwortham chain restaurant is under a mile away from several excellent, independent cafes and restaurants with consistently competent staff and lively atmospheres such as Pane and Vino in Priory Lane, where lunchtime diners can get a homemade lasagne using the best ingredients for £6, a side salad for £2.50 and an entire, fresh 12 inch garlic bread for £4.20. 

That’s 5p cheaper than the pre-discount prices at the Brown Hare, so I’ll spend my money there.

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Does the smell of overflowing ashtrays make you feel hungry? Don’t waste time letting us know in the comments, get yourself to the GP.