PERHAPS your reviewer is beginning to look like he has had too many hot dinners.

Perhaps this establishment's staff, in the general interest of their customers' health, are equipped with cholesterol and calorie monitors, and have the discretion to decide whether diners really should tackle dessert after starters and main courses.

I'll admit it was a close-run thing when the pudding menu was placed before us. Sylvia and I were full, in truth, but duty calls and in the pursuit of the complete gastronomic story we forced ourselves to order home-made rhubarb crumble. It's a tough job but someone's got to do it.

In mitigation, we did just order one portion to share but, for whatever reason, the crumble never materialised. We didn't really need it so, as the minutes ticked by, the desire to establish whether it was coming or not weakened and we settled for the coffee which had arrived with almost indecent haste after we had ordered it.

If this sounds like the prelude to a bit of whinge, you'd be wrong. The Bolton Arms at Downholme, near Richmond, is very, very good. Recommended by a Bedale butcher friend who certainly knows his fore rib from his leg, it lived up to its reputation for sourcing and cooking the best local meat.

And as we had watched spring lambs gambolling in the fields of Swaledale on the way to Downholme it seemed entirely appropriate to eat lamb (apologies to those with vegetarian tendencies) once there. There were two lamb dishes on the blackboard menu and both were superb.

Sylvia's Kleftiko (10.50) was a Swaledale interpretation of a Greek classic. A shoulder cut baked long and slow with mint and redcurrant gravy, it was deemed perfect and better than any she had tasted in Greece.

My lamb steak with caramelised onion gravy and grain-mustard mash (£9.50) was not quite as tender as the Klefiko but singular in flavour nevertheless. The gravy was particularly rich and combined well with the mash.

Other dishes which caught our eye were spinach, haddock and prawn crumble (£8.95) and duck breast with a honey, orange and ginger glaze (£10.50)

The starters we chose were both substantial and explained why the rhubarb crumble turned out not to be necessary. Sylvia's Classic Prawn Cocktail (£4.95) was, umm, classic and notable for the number of prawns.

My warm salad of chorizo sausage and oak-smoked salmon (£4.95) was a clever combination which again didn't stint on the key components.

There were others things we liked about the Bolton Arms. It is cosy, compact even, and furnished simply but comfortably in Dales pub-style. Leaving aside the crumble incident, the staff are very accommodating with the owners Steve and Nicola Ross being very front-of-house and jocular with regulars and visitors alike. They were notably patient with a group of American tourists who seemed to find the concept of a blackboard menu hard to fathom and looked at their pints of Black Sheep bitter with grave suspicion. Mind you, Downholme must seem very odd if home is Arizona.

Mr and Mrs Ross used to have the Friar's Head at Akebar (see last week's Eating Out) and have maintained the standards they set there. They use as much local produce as is possible and their meat comes from the Dales Quality Meat Company at Hawes.

Mr Ross, who is also chef, is much given to wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the words "culinary genius". That may be stretching it bit a but on the strength of what we ate on this occasion it certainly not worth an argument about.

The bill, which included a couple of drinks, was £35. Pretty good value.

We are also pleased to report superior reading material graces the pub's walls in the shape of a 1936 page of the Darlington & Stockton Times. Something to aid the digestion, as it were.

Best of all though is the view from its dining room which is behind the bar and up a few steps (a bit tricky for the infirm/disabled although you can eat in the bar area and there is another entrance). On the late spring evening we were there Swaledale was looking particularly fine, changing in colour as the sun and cloud created ever-changing patterns on the hills before us.

The view is similarly spectacular from the pub car park. As we drove away I noted with wistful regret the colour of the fading sunset. It was rhubarb crumble pink