TO be honest, I don't really know what "forced rhubarb" is. Rhubarb grown in darkness so the stems are forced to grow long in search of sunlight, perhaps? Or rhubarb that, after being cooked, has been forced through some kind of mesh to turn it into a purée?

To be honest, I don't much care.

What I do know is that the forced rhubarb syllabub which finished my lunch at the Star Inn at Harome was a dessert of such exquisite, silky deliciousness that I almost passed out from pleasure. It was so good that just remembering it brings tears to my eyes. In fact, it was so good there is only one accolade which does it justice. It was worthy of Yangzhou.

Yangzhou is a small city at the southern end of China's Grand Canal. There are stone-flagged steps leading down to the canal where Chinese Emperors used to embark on the journey north to Beijing. There is also a spectacular park, known as the "small west lake", which was once a playground of emperors and their retinues.

Apart from that, Yangzhou is ordinary enough. Except that it has the best food in the world.

I discovered that quite by accident when I popped into a scruffy restaurant for breakfast. The table groaned with delicacies: fragrant Chinese dumplings, fluffy steamed bread rolls, lotus root soup, sweet, light cakes. I started eating and literally - to the laughing embarrassment of myself, my wife and our friends - couldn't stop. I ate until I was bursting, and still wanted more. I was so full it was more than 24 hours before I could eat anything again. I remember that breakfast in my dreams.

Well, The Star's forced rhubarb syllabub was that good.

Which is getting ahead of myself.

We decided to try The Star for lunch after it won yet another award - the Abbot Ale Perfect Food Pub prize for Yorkshire.

The dark, low-beamed, thatchedroofed little pub now has so many awards it must wonder sometimes what to do with them all. It was Egon Ronay gastropub of the year last year and it has that most precious of laurels, a Michelin Star.

All of which makes booking a table difficult. We decided we'd have lunch on a Saturday - but had to book a Saturday almost three weeks ahead, because all the tables were gone.

There is nothing like anticipation to stoke the juices, however. We rolled up at 12.30 on the appointed day, were offered a drink in the dark, crowded yet charming bar, but opted instead to go straight to our table.

This was in a separate small dining room at one end of the pub.

There was a blazing open fire, and an assortment of rustic but highlypolished tables of what we took to be knotted oak. The low ceiling was beamed, and the spaces between the beams were filled with old wine labels. There was a trickle of low, Vivaldi-ish music from hidden speakers.

We were the first of the 'booked' guests to arrive, although the bar next door was roaring, and our fellow lunchers soon made an appearance. We sipped our drinks, a light Abbot's Ale for me, a glass or orange juice for Lily, while we pondered the menu.

And what a menu! It was a little daunting at first - starters such as "Risotto of Hand Picked Wild Mushrooms with Wilted Wild Garlic, Deep fried Cotherstone Cheese and Hazelnut Pesto for £8.95" - but once we got beyond the thicket of words the food sounded ravishing.

As well as the main lunch menu, there is a sandwiches and salads menu (a Pern's of Helmsley glazed ham with celeriac coleslaw sandwich, anyone? ), a vegetarian menu and a chalked specials board.

Starved for choice we were not.

Lily chose the dressed white Whitby crab meat with plum tomato and sorrel salad, green herb mayonnaise and a Bloody Mary dressing (a pricey £11.95) from the chalk board for her starter. I went for the soup of the day: cream of celeriac with summer truffle shavings (£4.95).

Lily's crab came as a neat little mound of delicate, tender white crab meat perched on a bed of salad. The flavour was subtle and fresh, and perked up beautifully by the mayonnaise and tiny, arty dabs of dressing.

My soup was creamy, thick and textured, with a wonderful flavour, though I wasn't sure the truffle shavings added much. Our starters were accompanied by chunks of fresh, crusty wholemeal bread in which you could taste the sun, and small rolls.

For mains, Lily chose pan-fried breast of Harome duck with a purée of celeriac, smoked bacon chipolatas, golden raisin juices and Kingston black cider cocktail (£19.95), while I opted for the loin of Leckenby's reared 'Suffolk' lamb with creamed Lowna goats cheese, Sand Hutton asparagus salad and a garden lavender vinaigrette.

My lamb was beautifully tender.

The flavour was mild, but brought to life by the creamed goats cheese: an intoxicatingly warm, exotic combination. Lily's duck was also excellent, her smoked bacon chipolatas divine, and the accompanying dishes of vegetables we shared cooked to perfection.

Lily passed on dessert. I was tempted, and had my encounter with the already-mentioned syllabub, which was the perfect conclusion to the meal.

Our bill for lunch, including drinks and coffees, was just over £74. That is expensive for these parts, although less than we had expected. Not many people will pop out to The Star for a pub lunch every weekend at these prices, but for a special occasion, it is hard to beat.

The Star Inn, Harome, near Helmsley. Tel: 01439 770397.

Steve and Lily visited The Star on Saturday May 19.

factfile

Food: SuperbService: UnfussyValue: Dear treatAmbience: Posh rusticDisabled loos: NO