FINGS, most definitely, ain't what they used to be. Where once the locals of pretty-but-remote Husthwaite might have enjoyed a pie and a pint at the Blacksmith's, now the pub has gone all Mediterranean on them.

Quite how much the fields between Thirsk and Easingwold have in common with central Spain and the south of France, I'm not sure. But it seems to be working.

If it were in York, the Roasted Pepper would pass almost un-noticed; just another nice new nosher for those with an adventurous palate. But here, in the shadow of Sutton Bank and the heart of Herriot-land, it seems more than a little incongruous.

From the outside, it retains the look of a country pub. The signs may be painted in garishly Spaniard red and gold, but it could quite easily fool you into thinking it was nothing more than a local ale house.

Indeed, it's almost as if they're afraid to admit what it really is. The inside is tastefully decorated, but almost too subtle; nothing much hints that it's actually a snazzy Continental restaurant. I rather like seeing what's on the walls of a restaurant, and the Pepper doesn't offer much to hungry eyes.

But let's get to the food and drink, because that's a different story. My wife, Liz, went for a suitably Spanish Rioja red wine, while I stuck to a pint of John's.

The beer (£2) was so-so; the wine (£4 for 250ml) was sublime. I suddenly realised what Jilly Goolden means when she waffles on about things tasting "creamy, smoky and smooth" - this little devil was all that and more. And there was even a cute bowl of olives to go with it.

Then we hit the menu. A word of warning here: don't go in without a degree in languages, or failing that, Rick Stein.

Just what on earth is buffalo mozzarella? And a chorizo and chickpea cassoulet? And rosemary butter noodles? Now they're just having me on. But it's all there, and it's very, very good.

You can choose tapas in place of a starter. This we did, opting for two that we both liked so we could share.

So we got the chicken and pepper brochette, with hummous and a Greek yoghurt dip (a very reasonable £2.95), and a bruschetta with two toppings: tomato, basil and olives, and parma ham with the buffalo cheese (£4).

Salivating yet? We were. Herding mammal or no, this was gorgeous. As you'd expect from a place named after them, the peppers were sweet and crunchy, while the dips were luscious. The flavours of the tomato, the basil and the olives collided like comets against the taste buds, and left them singing.

For mains, I chose Thai spiced crispy duck (the one with the rosemary butter noodles, and a soy sauce and chilli dressing, costing £14). Not very Mediterranean, but pretty heavenly.

The duck was a muscular looking thing, tantalisingly encrusted and succulent within. The bed of noodles complimented it perfectly, as did the sauce in which it swam. Pricey, but good.

Liz opted for the menu option which made the most of the building's pub roots. Effectively, it was roast lamb. But in Pepperworld, it is billed thus: "roast rump of Yorkshire lamb, chorizo chickpea cassoulet and minted cous cous" (£11.95). That's not how yer mam made it, I'm willing to bet.

It made her a very happy girl. Roasts are her favourite thing really, but when they come with ridiculously interesting accoutrements, she's all smiles.

I tried it; frankly, it wasn't as good as mine. She disagreed.

There was room for a pud; in fact, for one each. Normally we end up sharing, so this may say something about the portions, but I'm not complaining.

My vanilla panacotta (£4.50) was fascinating. The vanilla dome itself was rather good, but what made it zing was its sauce. Get this: strawberry and basil soup. What inspired lunacy is this? It was soupy and gloopy, sickly and sour, and downright wonderful.

Liz went for the assiette of crmes brulees (£4.50), which came with biscotti. Nothing too weird there, and they were the most ordinary thing we tried all night. But they had their own passion, mighty sweet and delicately creamy. They could have warned Liz that one was coffee (she hates the stuff), but it all worked out okay.

The bill in total came to £51.30, which is generally more than you expect to pay but the food is worth it.

So, high scores for food and drink; not so hot on atmosphere. Wonderful toilets though - monochrome and space-aged.

But you can't really imagine the locals eating there every night. Whether it gets the imported trade it needs remains to be seen, but I sincerely hope the Pepper's ambitious owners do well.

Anyone who can put fruit and herb soup on a menu deserves your respect.

The Roasted Pepper, Husthwaite, 01347 868007

Food: sumptuous

Service: prompt

Value: reasonable

Ambience: dry

Disabled access: Yes

Updated: 08:33 Saturday, October 19, 2002