The launch of Wes Anderson’s whimsical augmentation of Roald Dahl’s classic Fantastic Mr Fox at The Nag’s Head in Great Missenden may be alluring new patrons to Dahl’s hometown, however regrettably, upon an off-chance revisit, a preceding client and her demurely gentle companion, uncharacteristically had one or two significant gripes.

The Nag’s Head, cradled within the woodsy heart of the rolling green hills of Buckinghamshire has occasionally provided a romantically idyllic setting for my usual dining partner and I, but this evening my companion is my best friend and strangely appropriately, we are not surrounded by Chantilly lace and floral blossoms, but fiery amber flecks of Mr Foxes’ tache. We scan the domain, viewing walls crammed with original stills from the motion picture and start to feel as if we are actually a part of the set of the movie itself. It indeed transpires that The Nag’s Head also featured as an animated set within the film. Well, how nice and what a good time to revisit, but what about the food?

My companion -who favours delicate portions and lighter options- and I agree to share a starter and a main course, both to maximise our pleasure and reduce the risk of getting bored of a certain perpetual flavour –which, when dining in restaurants does often ring true if you only feel you can manage one course. Not one to limit my alcohol consumption however, I order myself a glass of the South-East Australian Tin Roof Chardonnay, an unoaked, syrupy and fruity affair, reminiscent of Christmas pud. I was yet to learn that this would be the finest (foodie) experience of the evening.

Aware that both the dishes we had selected were likely to contain large quantities of sickly cream, we decided to ask to have our seafood marinere of razor clams, green lipped moules and tiger prawns made simply without the cream. Not difficult, just line up the holy grail of moule perfection; garlic, white wine and chopped parsley. ‘Who are these un-famous little people, who think they can just ask for what they actually want?’; we received confused expressions of distaste at our request. The ordering process had proved to be gruelling enough; cocky waiter plus effusive and insincere smirks equals uncomfortable experience, however factoring in the unappetising pong and lasting potency of shrivelled, aged mollusques and foul wilted samphire (posh name for seaweed), the general consensus at our table was no more thank you.

Still, we battled on, and whilst awaiting our steamed lemon sole stuffed with Scottish salmon we couldn’t help but eavesdrop; the whiskers twitched and the ears pricked up at the –cocky waiter’s- bombastic recount of Anderson’s cast party, ‘Darhling!’ We pretty much lost interest right then and there. It is a good thing that we were astute enough not to necessarily write off the movie as being a total failure just because our waiter was rude and inefficient and the chef couldn’t be bothered to give us any sauce whatsoever that wasn’t laced with cream.  

Once again, we were disappointed when our salmon stuffed sole –sans cream- also arrived sans sauce. It was also dull, tasteless and parched, stuffed with a crumbly and waxy salmon. However, perhaps I am being too swift to be the critic, the vegetables were actually edible and maintained a healthy crunch. However, one enjoyable glass of wine and an acceptable portion of sugarsnaps does not a meal make, no matter how famous the clientele may have been last week, ‘Darhling!’ I doubt I will be returning anytime soon. Still, a second chance may be around the corner, and oddly enough, I am now keener to see Anderson’s dark horse of a movie.