The Pilgrims, Battle, East Sussex

Local produce, simply prepared - we've heard it all before, but The Pilgrims in Battle does it well. A hot and bothered Richard Johnson is totally disarmed

I WAS driving across The Weald, in tar-blistering heat, to make an 8pm dinner reservation. And complaining - a little too forcibly - about "no goddam air-conditioning". When I noticed that my shorts had contrived to defeat the keylock on my mobile, and call my mother. I still haven't managed to explain why I left an abusive message about weather conditions on her answer phone.

I WAS driving across The Weald, in tar-blistering heat, to make an 8pm dinner reservation. And complaining - a little too forcibly - about "no goddam air-conditioning". When I noticed that my shorts had contrived to defeat the keylock on my mobile, and call my mother. I still haven't managed to explain why I left an abusive message about weather conditions on her answer phone.

The Pilgrims in Battle is a black and white building dating from 1440. Normally I would have appreciated the leading on the windows. But, on the hottest day of the year, all I could think about was how small they were, and how unwelcoming to a passing breeze. So, even though the restaurant inside was unspeakably elegant, we settled on outside, and its simple pleasures.

The Pilgrims is opposite Battle Abbey - where the Battle of Hastings was fought in 1066. Our heavy wooden table was in the midst of a garden of freshly-watered herbs with one hell of a view of the crenellation. The waiter told us that we were within spitting distance of where Harold fell, which explains why there was a tourist at every table, poring over a guidebook. So the menu, when it arrived, was a surprise. Some of the restaurant's producers are organic, some are in conversion, some are from kitchen gardens too small to afford certification. All of them are local.

The focaccia - with a whole, plump tomato or a branch of rosemary on every clump of bread - was the best I've ever tasted. It went well with the strips of raw vegetables. Forget tofu - "gourmet raw" is the next big thing. That means vegetables, nuts, seeds and fruits, and nothing heated above 47.8ºC (the point at which, some believe, enzymes begin to degenerate and harm the body).

Demi Moore's new body is said to have been perfected by "gourmet raw". I doubt she lays her carrot batons in between two hods of foccacia, and then slathers them with home-made mayonnaise. But then my regime isn't as strict as Demi's. Which is why I was happy to order baked chabis goat's cheese (£6.50), dressed on a plate with a salad of tomato, fresh basil and walnuts.

The bloomy white rind and the diminutive size make chabis a pretty addition to a menu. It's made by Kevin and Alison Blunt, who live on a small holding near Lewes. So it's local. Naturally. And matured for only one week. The result is a velvety texture, and a fresh lemon fruitiness - with only the merest hint of goat - best enjoyed young.

The game at The Pilgrims is wild. That's not always a good thing - farm-raised animals have a grain supplement added to their diet that adds fat, or "marbling", to intramuscular meat. Venison is fine, and delicately textured, but with no marbling. And, as much as I wanted to like The Pilgrims smoked venison (produced by a local gamekeeper, who has just set up his own smokery) I'm afraid I didn't.

The flavour was lovely - with the merest hint of roadkill. But, boy, was it tough. Maybe the local gamekeeper had smoked the wrong part of the deer. Like the soles of its shoes. The tenderest muscle group of the deer is the tenderloin, closely followed by the long backstrap. But any gamekeeper would know that. Either way, the venison defeated me, and left me with the usual dilemma - to spit or to swallow.

Sussex is not just the land, it is also the sea, and there is an eternal struggle between the two. Neither quite wins, neither quite loses. As the sun went down on Battle, the seagulls were still circling overhead. Fish at The Pilgrims comes from the Hastings beach fleet, and is simple and honest. So the seabass was baked, whole, and not played around with. All for £14.75.

The concept of "local" cooking can sometimes be an excuse for a lack of imagination. But, with ceviche of local plaice on the menu, that's not true of The Pilgrims. One question - when you're offered "fresh native lobster" with chilled samphire (£16.50), would you be disappointed with "half a fresh native lobster"? I have parsed the sentence. I'm still no nearer knowing. More irritatingly, the samphire had run out.

The Limousin steak (£13.20) was intensely flavoured, but without enough Café de Paris dressing. Nobody really knows what constitutes a Café de Paris dressing. The sauce was invented in 1941 by Freddy Dumont, who used a secret blend of 12 ingredients. I can always identify anchovies - their complex salty flavour actually enhances meat rather than fighting against it. But not this time; the dressing evaporated too quickly.

The vegetarian dishes didn't really work. The baked marrow filled with seasonal vegetables, Flower Marie (a soft local cheese) glaze (£11.20) was like a vegetable side-order, but bigger. As wonderful as the vegetables were (they come from 10 kitchen gardens - all local, I believe) they just fell about like a meatless meat dish. And the pond of buttery melted cheese just seemed unhealthy.

The desserts were the greatest triumph, especially the caramelised apple tart (£4.75). The Pilgrims buy Mrs de Quincy's early season apples from Robertsbridge, 10 miles down the road, rather than certified organic apples from New Zealand. And you can see why - they taste better. With a little attention to the menu, this place deserves stars. And, when the weather cools off, I'll be back to book a table indoors. E

The Pilgrims, 1 High Street, Battle, East Sussex (01424 772314)