Review of The Crown Inn, by Nadia Latif

For a Londoner, getting to The Crown Inn should be easy. Located in Amersham, it requires a one-train journey to the end of the Metropolitan Line, plus a short walk (taxi-ride if raining) through golden fields of corn (no poetic licence here, Amer is surrounded by them). Even the most hardened urbanite couldn't be fazed by that.

Unfortunately for TI when we visited, our fair city had deemed that the Underground needed urgent work that weekend; all routes to said bit of countryside idyll were closed. Cue much cursing and blinding, and a two-and-a-bit-hour journey that should have taken forty minutes. Needless to say, when we arrived, we were less than composed. The Crown quickly put an end to that.

Tinier than its sister The Olde Bell, facilities here are minimal and compact. But that's exactly the point. The kitchen, headed by former Guardian writer Rosie Sykes, is wholesome and fantastic, having won enough critical acclaim to make locals and guests alike fiercely loyal. The outside patio is a welcome addition for summer dining.

There's also a quaint bar area (quaint in a thoroughly design-led way) that serves locally brewed ales and elderflower fizz. What it lacks in garden, it makes up for in location: the village is full of picture-perfect pubs, ye olde sweetshops and antiquarian book dealers; if you manage to tear yourself away from the food, be sure to go exploring.

Rickety floorboards, clean-lined Crawford decor (courtesy of Elle style guru Ilse) and the softest of king-size beds. Add to this Jakob wool blankets, a smattering of Penguin classics and zingy Aesops toiletries in the bathrooms and there's no excuse not to find bucolic bliss faster than you can say a pint of (local) Rebellion Ale.