A Star Trek in England

Only one table talked without restraint. Four men seated beside us discussed the history of food, the impact of EU agricultural laws on British farmers and the pitfalls of London's restaurant scene -- a topic I couldn't help but eavesdrop on. By the time the main course arrived, I had discovered that one of the party -- the man with unruly salt-and-pepper hair and John Lennon-style round glasses -- was Shaun Hill, chef and proprietor of the Merchant House, Ludlow's first and most famous Michelin-starred restaurant. Bosi later told us, in his after-lunch sweep through the dining room, that Hill's dining partners included the editor of Britain's AA dining guide and a prominent local wine distributor.

"Were they checking out the competition?" I asked.

"No," he answered sincerely. "We're all good friends."

Indeed, it's Ludlow's friendliness and relaxed pace that have lured hot chefs from more established gourmet venues. Many thought Hill was crazy when he left his prestigious post at the Michelin-starred restaurant of the Gidleigh Park Hotel in Devon in 1994 for the Shropshire hinterlands. At the time, Britain's AA Guide compared the move to a race car driver giving up Formula 1 to drive a bus.

But only somewhere like Ludlow -- a tourist destination without the accompanying sky-high rents -- could permit Hill to open the restaurant of his dreams. The Merchant House occupies the first floor of the Hills' 17th-century half-timbered home and seats just 24 diners. Hill's wife, Anja, is one of just two waitstaff. The couple offer prix-fixe lunch and dinner and refuse parties bigger than six because, they say, they cannot properly look after large groups.

The Merchant House won a Michelin star in 1995, the very year it opened, which caught the attention of national food critics. Good reviews soon earned the restaurant a cult following. As word spread, gourmet pilgrims poured into the town. High-end restaurateurs saw an opportunity. Michelin-starred Mr. Underhill's opened its doors in 1998, Hibiscus in 2000. Ludlow also boasts a marvelous cheese shop, the Mousetrap, which hawks local cheddars and blues, as well as a chocolate shop and the Marches Little Beer Shoppe, which sells an impressive range of bottled beers and ciders.

Not to be left out, the local tourist board has gotten into the game. Each August, it organizes the so-called Magnalonga, a six-mile walk through the Shropshire countryside with five stops, each of which makes up one part of a five-course meal. The annual Ludlow Marches Food and Drink Festival, held each September, offers an ale and sausage tour, a bread-baking competition and dozens of demonstrations by local food artisans. Last year, the three-day food fest attracted about 15,000 visitors. Not bad for a town with a population of less than 10,000.

Twenty-four hours later, we arrived at the Merchant House. Unlike Hibiscus, which has a quintessentially French soul, the Merchant House is certifiably British. Wooden beams, hardwood floors and the inevitable lace curtains evoke an ordinary country pub. But that's the image Hill is trying to project. Nothing fussy or precious. Just simple, well-prepared food. We ordered parsley risotto with English asparagus and wild mushrooms, local rack of lamb with herbs and red wine, and roast brill with whole-grain mustard sauce. For dessert, we gorged on rhubarb tart with ginger custard and a pudding flavored with apricot, walnuts and rum, a twist on the classic English trifle.

We had contemplated going to Mr. Underhill's, Ludlow's third and final Michelin-starred restaurant, for dinner, but even I had to admit that I couldn't eat another mouthful. Which, in a way, was a good thing. Now we had a reason to come back. We'll call it "Ludlow -- The Sequel."

Jane Black last wrote for Travel about San Miguel de Allende in Mexico.