THE Black Bull used to be our special birthday and anniversary dining place. From Irish Jim behind the bar to the railway carriage restaurant, it had a special atmosphere, and the food was a special cut above everything in the area.

Suddenly, in January 2012, the Bull closed.

Allegations of a £30m fraud swirled about and court cases remain unresolved. The pub, in a small village near Scotch Corner, fell derelict and became a carcase – even the railway carriage was winched away as the vultures picked over its bones.

Early this summer, the Bull was restored to life and bounced back into business. But can it ever be special again?

It is certainly busy – we tried for ages to get a weekend table and in the end, we snuck in on a Wednesday night. Immediately, we were struck by the changes. The bar is still snug and old-fashioned, but the modern main dining area is spacious and airy with a pleasant-looking exterior overlooked by an enormous model of a black bull. Even though it was a warm July evening, only one couple braved the British summer.

The menu was a tad disappointing.

Although it was peppered with the word Yorkshire, it was not especially extensive – there were about six starters and main courses, augmented by a bar menu and a specials board. The Chateaubriand fillet sounded fantastic, but it was £60 for two and my fish-loving wife ruled it out. Although the other options all looked intriguing, there was nothing that screamed “eat me”, which made the choice a tad difficult.

This tad, though, was to be the evening’s only disappointment.

Having made our choices, we fell into reminiscing about whether the old railway carriage had, despite its curiosity value, been any good. Our birthdays are December time and it was usually chilly, and the sinky seats meant you were too low and far away from the table.

An unannounced amuse bouche arrived: a warm green soup – curried marrow – in a little glass mug, accompanied by a slate of three types of bread and two types of butter. The curried marrow gave a delicious warm glow and left me wanting more of this improbable combination.

For starters, Petra chose a black pudding and pancetta salad while I opted to have three king scallops placed on top of my black pudding rounds. We agreed that the crumbly pudding was great, that the greenery was good, and the mayonnaise was tasty. I added that my scallops were cooked perfectly, but I really went overboard about my honey glaze sauce. It brought great richness and depth to the pudding and gave this regular dish a different dimension.

Just before the main course arrived, I noticed with jealousy that a vicar and his companion on a nearby table was tucking into what I presumed to be the Chateaubriand with great gusto. Petra, though, was delighted by her beautiful Dover sole, accompanied by Yorkshire chorizo which added to rather than overwhelmed the fish. There were gnocchi dumplings and mushrooms in an attractive orange-yellow sauce.

After much consideration, I had chosen the Chef ’s Duck a l’Orange which came with squares of beetroot, a missile-shaped fennel and slices of blood orange. First of all, I tried the marinated Yorkshire duck: squidgy and superb. Then I moved onto the bits I was suspicious of, but the beetroot – which I would normally cross the road to avoid – was fruitily earthy and earthily fruity, particularly in combination with the orange.

Then the abrupt aniseed of the fennel kicked in, cutting through the sweetness of the fruity bits. Again, it added an unexpected dimension to the dish.

With excellent pan jus, and plenty of vegetables, my tads of misgivings were blown away. These unlikely tastes worked quite brilliantly together.

The Chateaubriand must also have been good, because outside the vicar was now puffing contentedly on a large pipe, sending great plumes of smoke into the night sky.

The brave couple from earlier had departed, and so the curious clerical character appeared to be in deep conversation with the enormous model black bull.

I am, though, more down to earth – a sticky toffee pudding sort of a bloke. But sticky toffee pudding wasn’t on the dessert menu so I was again forced out of my comfort zone.

Eventually, I elected the white chocolate and Cointreau Crème Brulée. If I’m honest, I’m not sure I could locate either of these delicate flavours, particularly not alongside the robust fruit and nut shortbread, but it was a delightfully creamy brulée.

My fishy wife also likes her cheese. There was momentary disappointment that Blue Monday – made by the bass guitarist from Blur – had run out, but the Rhuby Crumble Wensleydale, the brie-like Langres and the dependable Yorkshire cheddar ticked all the right cheesy boxes.

The service was friendly and knowledgeable throughout; the bill, including £16 of drinks, came to £79 – only a few quid more than most other country pubs which are playing in much lower leagues.

So, yes, after all its recent tribulations, the Bull is special again. Very special.

Food facts

The Black Bull, Moulton, Richmond, North Yorkshire DL10 6QJ
01325-377556
theblackbullmoulton.com

Ambience: 3/5 
Service: 4/5 
Food quality: 4/5 
Value for money: 4/5