The team behind the Michelin recommended 263 near Winckley Square have thrown open the doors of another eatery, and my mother Yvonne and I were kindly invited for a meal there. 

Situated in Berry Lane in Longridge, Fell Bistro promises to offer ‘relaxed dining in a modern setting’, and ‘memorable dishes paired with our welcoming Northern hospitality’. 

We were given a cheery welcome by staff, quickly seated and supplied with drinks and menus. We chose Fell’s white house wine: Richemer Piquepoul, which was light, fruity, citrusy and easy to drink. 

The decor and lighting is modern and classy without being pretentious, and the open kitchen runs almost the full length of the restaurant, so Yvonne and I were able to see that wonderful food doesn’t have to be created to a soundtrack of: “Hell fire that’s hot! Dammit! Well, we’re not having gravy! Can someone get this bloody dog!?”

We were given some fragrant, herby bread to dip into olive oil and balsamic vinegar whilst we decided what to order, and the first course arrived soon after. Yvonne’s vibrantly coloured pastrami cured trout, creme fraiche, fennel and preserved lemon was a subtle combination of flavours, each complimenting the others without overwhelming them.

I tried the trout before I started on my salt cod fishcake, tartare veloute and pickled cucumber, because although I love salt fish, it can be intense. I imagine it’s like getting a snog from Jack Sparrow after six months at sea. Feels like a good idea at first, but a few seconds into there’s a wave of serious, stanky cod regret. 

Happily, this fish cake was one of the less aggressive types. The saltfish taste was there, but not to the point where anyone would start wincing, and the capers in the warm tartare veloute gave a zing that matched its flavour. 

My starter was beautifully presented in a large bowl, but owing to my short stature I couldn’t quite raise my T-Rex arms high enough to get the angle needed to cut into the fishcake, so I had to use more of a shanking technique from above. Nevertheless, I finished it, and would definitely order it again. 

For her main course Yvonne ordered treacle pork cutlet with hispi cabbage, prune ketchup and grain mustard sauce. It was a large, tender piece of meat on the bone that Yvonne ate like a Viking in an impressive albeit slightly terrifying way. Sweet flavours always go well with pork, but the treacle also added an extra dimension of umami. The mustard sauce was mild, and came in a small jug to add according to personal preference. 

Although the menu wasn’t huge, everything on it sounded tempting, including a vegan option of potato dumpling, truffle and celeriac sauce, kale, and tarragon. 

I rarely order steak in a restaurant as it’s often overcooked, undercooked, chewy, gristly or tasteless. However, as I had previously had an incredible meal at Fell’s sister restaurant 263, I decided to throw caution to the wind by asking the chef for whichever type of steak he recommends, cooked the way he thinks best. 

The steak I was given was a large ribeye, cooked (according to the waiter) medium rare. 

Before anyone finds me on Facebook to fire off the first ‘that’s not medium rare and ur name is Karen. All Karens are stoopid. Ur stoopid’ – let me just say that I had a quick Google to see if there is a consensus about how a medium rare steak should look, and there isn’t. Some charts indicate that the steak would be classed as medium, or rare, others, that it’s medium rare. I took a photo of it so everyone can decide for themselves because no way am I kicking that steak done-ness hornet’s nest.

If someone orders their steak as blue as Roy Chubby Brown or charcoaled and hotter than the inside of a pitta bread, it’s a valid preference and not a personality flaw.

For me, the the steak was perfectly cooked to suit that cut of meat. It was taken from the heat at exactly the right moment to ensure that the fat was melted, it was cooked through and soft in the middle, whilst still having the wonderful flavour of the charring on the outside. The thick line of gristle that runs through part of a ribeye was almost non-existent and the meat was incredibly easy to cut and chew. 

The steak came with lightly battered onion rings, a grilled tomato and some nice leaves which I ignored and also enough chunky chips for the two of us with some left over. The peppercorn sauce, which is my favourite accompaniment to steak, was also spot on. However, the flavour of the steak was so good that next time I wouldn’t order sauce at all. 

For dessert I ordered lemon posset, blackberry compote, mint, crushed meringue, which was like breaking into a 1900s farmhouse pantry and going nuts with a tablespoon on their homemade preserves with no consideration whatsoever for cross contamination. The kitchen hadn’t overloaded everything with sugar, which seems to be the norm nowadays in desserts.

They also used the same restraint in the affogato – bourbon vanilla and Biscoff ice cream, topped with hazelnuts and a shot of espresso, allowing the other ingredients to shine. 

The Fell Bistro is an excellent addition to Longridge’s foodie scene, bringing the same relaxed atmosphere in which to deliver superb service, food and drink without the complimentary side order of snootiness that accompanies the more traditional fine dining restaurants.

It’s somewhere that people can get dressed up to visit, but those more comfortable in casual clothing are made just as welcome. Just be clean and put your pants on. 

As I write about local restaurants, people sometimes ask me for recommendations of the best place for certain foods. Everything we tried was impeccable, but next time I’m specifically asked about the very best place for steak I’ll be directing them to the Fell Bistro. 

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Do you feel that someone ordering a well done steak is an affront, both to you and every one of your ancestors? Kick off about it in the comments, if you must.