Gee's, Banbury Road, Oxford

3:31pm Wednesday 27th August 2008

It was my birthday a couple of weeks ago; I was 57. Time for a little variety? Not in the matter of the location for my birthday meal. This was going to be at my favourite Oxford restaurant. It is not absolutely certain what is my favourite at present. La Cucina, in St Clements, would definitely be a contender. But this does not have the advantage of having my favourite city pub round the corner for a post-prandial drink (though Joe Ryan's Half Moon is certainly in my top five). No, the double whammy of Gee's in Banbury Road, with the Rose and Crown 50 yards away in North Parade, had to be the combination for birthday bliss.

I have eaten with great pleasure at Gee's through all years it has been open. Though it hardly seems possible, I see it was as long ago as 1984 that I joined the catering entrepreneur Jeremy Mogford on site to hear of his plans for turning what had been Gee's greengrocery and flower shop into an upmarket restaurant. His far-sighted scheme saved the elegant conservatory, built in 1898 to the design of H.W.Moore, from an uncertain future.

The renovation was a visual delight (and remains so). Less satisfactory aspects of the design - it was too hot in summer and too cold in winter - were attended to in the early days. Now it offers great comfort throughout the year. This extends to the outside tables ranged around the building, where there are heated lamps and supplies of monogrammed grey blankets to keep out the night chills.

The building deserves a footnote in the gastronomic history of the city (and, indeed, the country) through its occupation during the late 1980s by the first Le Petit Blanc. Within 18 months of its opening, Raymond Blanc persuaded Jeremy to sell it to him, and installed John Burton-Race, later to find great fame as a telly chef, in the kitchen. It was a memorable period for gourmets. After John and his mentor went their separate ways, Jeremy bought back the place and continued to build Gee's towards the eminent position it holds today.

Quite simply it is, as its website truthfully puts it, "Oxford's most celebrated fine-dining restaurant" (though it is overlooked, absurdly, in the Michelin Guide). Its menu changes with the seasons, with ingredients impeccably sourced, including fish flown in twice weekly from Jersey and meat reared on Jeremy's own farm near Watlington.

His estate was presumably the source of the succulent pot-roasted wood pigeon which, served as my main course, must count as one of the best birthday treats possible. Waiter Nick sang its praises so loudly at the ordering stage that it would have seemed almost bad-mannered not to try it. The meat was rich, delicious and plentiful, slowly cooked in a dark sweet sauce laced with sloe gin.

There were also mushrooms cooked in the juice, and to these I added a side order of buttered green beans. These had been properly sliced lengthways, rather than brutally chopped across, which seems to be today's lazy preparation method for these great summer vegetables. With perhaps no more than three good-sized beans in all in the little pot, I did rather raise an eyebrow, however, at the £3.95 added to the bill. But this is a luxury restaurant . . . .

My meal had started with another gamey delight, a rich terrine of bacon-wrapped rabbit and small pieces of black pudding - a well-judged combination - served with a redcurrant dressing. Rosemarie tried, and thoroughly approved, the tian of Jersey crab (all succulent white meat) that she had enjoyed so much on a visit to Gee's earlier in the summer, while Olive went for the creamy chilled leek and potato soup, vichyssoise in everything but name.

She continued with a succulent poached chicken breast with girolles and sweetcorn, while her daughter ate a handsome roast fillet of halibut (just a shade overcooked, she thought), with fennel and cucumber salad and sauce vierge (butter and lemon).

d=3,3,1The flint-dry Muscadet sur lie (Clos de Rosiers, 2006) proved an ideal accompaniment to my companions' dishes, while I settled on a half-litre pichet of a robust French Syrah (2006, Domaine Maris, organic) as a suitable match for the pigeon.

A classically constructed summer pudding completed Olive's meal. Rosemarie had an iced chocolate parfait with caramelised mirabelles. She allowed me to assist with this, in between sips of my (excellent) coffee.

Then, having thanked the staff for another typically delightful Gee's meal, we all set off for a digestif around the corner.

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