Racing driver Jackie Stewart said something along the lines that every man thinks he’s an excellent driver, and an excellent lover.

I certainly think I’m a decent driver, but having thought it would be a doddle to find the White Hart Inn - it’s just one junction on the A419 from Adver Towers - when the brown sign said go one way, and my sat nav said another, I was thinking this wasn’t starting well.

But after some roundabouts and a bit of worry, there it was and I was pulling into the car park.

It’s not an unattractive building, all gabled roofs and half-timbered (I suspect it’s not entirely architecturally historically accurate, and behind it in the car park is what looks like a row of 1960s detached suburban houses, which is the hotel).

Once inside to the left is the bar and to the right the restaurant, which has all sorts of booths and separate sections.

Now it’s the habit in these sort of reviews to go with someone else, to give the menu a proper work-out, but, well, for whatever reason I was alone – party of one, Billy No-mates.

I didn’t mind, and the waiting staff certainly didn’t.

I was found a table, brought the menu and had a look at the wine list - which was pretty much as you’d expect; except, oh hello... a Uruguyan Pinot Noir. That looked interesting... I’ll have, ah, no. I could only have that by the bottle and I had to drive, and I didn’t want a whole bottle of wine to myself. And is it the done thing to have the bottle, and take most of it home undrunk, with the cork wedged back in? Is that allowed?

Whatever, I went for the small glass of the Rioja, and a lime and soda. The sacrifices I make.

So, however gabled and half-timbered, the White Hart is a pub on the junction of a very busy A road – and its menu is going to be standard pub fare right?

Well, yes, but also, no.

The starter menu had soup and chicken liver parfait, and the like, but also potted crab with pickled cucumber, and a whole baked camembert – this place has what my grandmother would have called ‘notions’. (The camembert was listed for sharing, unfortunately. I don’t know, maybe I should have gone with the whole camembert and the full bottle of wine. I’m starting to regret what little restraint I had).

I went for the smoked haddock and spring onion fishcakes, with creamed leaks and a soft-boiled egg.

Excellent choice, I told my dining companion (me). The fishcake was crisp and fishy. The egg perfectly soft, but yet boiled. But the star on the plate were the leeks. Soft and buttery but also with that peppery kick. I could have had a lot more of them, but I had to leave some room.

It’s not the imaginative choice, but for my main course I’d gone for the steak and chips.

And truth be told, after the interesting starter menu, the mains list is perhaps more conventionally “pubby”.

Steak, mixed grill. Cod and chips, scampi, a burger, a chicken thing, lasagne or chilli, Thai green curry. There’s also a long list of pizzas and some salads.

For review purposes I like to justify choosing the steak because there’s no place to hide for the chef (in reality, I just like steak).

And whoever’s manning the grill station at the White Hart needs no hiding place, because that chef really knows how to do a steak.

I’d chosen the fillet, seeing as the Adver was paying, when normally I’d have gone for a cheaper, but tastier, cut (cheaper, mainly, to be honest).

But this was a revelation. It was a perfect medium, plenty charred on the outside, so lots and lots of flavour, and beautifully pink, and as tender as a gloopy Elvis ballad on the inside.

The rest of the plate was fine. It was better than fine. The chunky chips were very crispy and very fluffy (but slightly off - they were fat, but short), the roasted vine tomatoes and grilled portobello mushroom supplied two of my five a day. (And wine’s made from grapes right? That’s fruit). The onion rings could have been crispier.

But, man, I’d forgive a lot worse for that steak.

I’ll confess, my plan had been to look at the dessert menu, and virtuously ask for a coffee.

But again, there was an interesting and exceedingly tempting selection. The ice cream sounded good, so did the cheesecake. Crème brulee. I like that. A lot.

I went for the lemon posset. Another excellent bit of choosing.

If I was Gregg Wallace off of the telly, or the other one, I might have said it was slightly stiffer, and less wobbly than a posset might be. But having scoffed the three raspberries and two shortcrust biscuits, I was in lemony heaven.

Sharp, sweet, melting on the tongue. A total winner. 10/10. Would eat again. Five minutes after finishing the first one preferably.

Those three courses plus drinks came to £41.80.

The White hart is not quite ‘fain daining’. One customer near me had a pizza, and extra chips and no-one raised the faintest eyebrow.

But I really enjoyed it. It’s friendly, and unpretentious, and the kitchen team really knows what it’s doing.

If anyone fancies a truly excellent steak, and that Uruguayan Pinot, just give me a call.

You can drive.