The Lambley

I like food, good food and plenty of it. I will go to great lengths to feed my passion of eating out and fulfill my mission of finding the perfect restaurant. So when my equally gastronomic sister and her car came to visit me, we decided to venture out into Nottinghamshire countryside. Our destination was The Lambley, a restaurant/pub, probably the only one, in the village of Lambley, appropriately named after the lambs that live, die and most importantly are eaten there.

Knowing how many times a day I get lost in the maze that is the Trent Building, navigating us to a small village seemed unachievable. Indeed I got lost before leaving the city centre. Luckily we were saved by a helpful taxi driver who claimed he was going our way, and so after briefly weighing up the possibility of being raped or murdered, against the prospect of not getting to the restaurant at all we decided to follow him. Twenty minutes later we arrived safely in quaint Lambley but to new worries that it would be an old man pub and we’d stick out like the Pope in the Ark. Or worst of all, what if the food was bad?

There was no need to fear: the food was excellent. Dishes such as cheese soufflé, pork with a mustard mash and caramelized onions, and treacle tart were comforting yet sophisticated. The same could be said for the atmosphere, and the clientele were distinctly non-geriatric. The staff were down to earth and friendly and the maitre d’ even pulled up a chair at our table when we quizzed him about the restaurant, chatting long enough to make him one of my better facebook friends.

With three masterfully cooked and largely portioned courses at £13 and 2 courses for £10 (less than a meal at Pizza Express!) The Lambley is definitely worth the 2 mile trip if you want to take visiting parents away from the Nottingham sirens. Just make sure you take your sense of direction with you!

Eli Zur-Szpiro


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