TO where has the month of January disappeared?

I swear that I only opened the new calendars pinned to various walls of Chez FM and the Potting Shed a couple of days ago. Even the Boy says he has no idea where the past four weeks have gone, so I know it is not simply advancing years that are playing tricks with my time management skills.

The sainted Mrs FM suggested that as we have all been so remarkably busy since the end of the annual festivities, it is unsurprising that we have little enough time for each other, let alone packing so many things into every day.

Repeating her assertion that we have spent nowhere near enough time in each other's company, she suggested that she would not mind dining together for a change, so I set about uncovering a fresh eatery to dine at that very evening.

As we appear to have covered almost every premises in Lincoln itself and the re-visitations have already commenced, I suggested Potters and she agreed that a little drive to Ruskington would make for a pleasant change. Thus, table booked for two, we headed south of the city.

We arrived, found Potters quite easily off the centre of the town and parked.

It needs to be said that the building has a sort of village hall appeal to it. In fact, Mrs FM thought it looked like an outbuilding of sorts, which hardly boded well for its prospects. Yet, it was well-illuminated and offered easy access.

Confronted by a bar and a handful of darts players, the name of the place clearly relates to the snooker tables, just visible through a glazed door, and there were also several young chaps potting away quite contentedly.

The pleasant young lady at the bar handed us the menus, highlighted the specials boards and asked us to name our poisons, the customary G&T for Mrs FM and a bottle of Spanish lager (San Miguel) for Yours Truly.

We picked our way through the simple menu, deciding on a deep fried brie, to be followed by a beef sizzler (whatever that might be) with chips for Mrs FM, while I chose the tomato and basil soup, with a main course of lasagne, accompanied by a jacket potato.

It was all very matter of fact and quite simple. The young lady suggested that we take a seat until our table was readied and just a few minutes later we were guided through to the dining area where our unassuming table awaited.

The décor was uninspiring but clean and not at all unpleasant and soon the young lady brought us our starters.

Mrs FM's brie looked more like a chunk of beautifully beer-battered cod, sitting alongside fresh green leaves and a sliced tomato, with a small ramekin of redcurrant jelly for dipping purposes. It was certainly a most generous portion, had clearly been prepared freshly and the batter was first-class. However, it was absolutely immense, especially for a starter course. Still, Mrs FM ploughed through it with great gusto and declared it excellent.

My soup was satisfyingly hot, packed with chunks of tomato, basil leaf and a delightful creaminess that was most unexpected. It was accompanied by a half French stick that was so oven hot that I almost blistered my fingers on it. The broth was tasty and just the right antidote for the cold damp weather.

The table was cleared efficiently and minutes later our main courses arrived.

While Mrs FM gazed quizzically at her plate of good looking, golden-brown chips, with more fresh green leaves, I explained that her beef sizzler was clearly on the way.

My lasagne looked truly splendid. A golden cheesy crust topped three layers of pasta sheet, which were packed with high quality minced beef, finely chopped tomatoes and the usual béchamel sauce. I enjoyed it from the very first mouthful and its excellently herbed, bolognaise flavour permeated every element of the taste as it passed across my palate. There is nothing particularly stunning about lasagne, which, well-prepared, is just good old-fashioned pub grub, but a bad one with the wrong acidic balance can be disastrous. The Potters' version was superb and the single baked potato was light and fluffy and equally full of flavour. Garden peas completed the plate.

Mrs FM's cast-iron skillet arrived filled to overflowing with stir-fry grade, low-fat, beef strips that had been pan-fried with ginger, onion, sweet peppers, sliced mushrooms, lots of black peppercorns and an interesting sauce that possessed a lightly smoked, perhaps even barbecued flavour. The beef was delicious, although the after-taste was slightly confusing to my palate and I wondered if the chef, as competent as she may have been, may have complicated the dish with too many incidental flavours. I am not suggesting the dish didn't work but rather that it was clearly quite an inventive concoction.

There were no complaints from Mrs FM on the chips front as, once again, the potatoes were clearly picked for their good all-round qualities and superior flavour. They had been perfectly cooked.

Our meals were freshly prepared, the produce was of first-rate quality and the overall impression was of honest food prepared by somebody who loves cooking. This came as something of a surprise given the building's exterior.

As we cleared our plates and discussed the meal quietly, the young lady returned with the desserts board. From a selection of six quite different puddings, Mrs FM chose the plum crumble with cream and I went for the cherry pancake with vanilla ice-cream.

When it arrived, the crumble looked excellent, with a nicely crumbed topping and that lovely edge of tin juiciness soaked into it. It was clear that real plums had been used but their colour was a little off-putting. If anything, the plums tasted more like prunes, although they were a mid-brown in finish, rather than a bright pinky-red. Their consistency was good enough but the overall flavour was lacking slightly.

The pancake was more like a crêpe, albeit a very good one, but I did expect the denser variety. It was folded over a healthy serving of de-stoned red cherries, which had clearly come from a catering pack, probably from the same supplier of the sliced, stewed plums. They were slightly cherry flavoured at the start of each mouthful but the flavour dissipated quickly into a sugary semi-sweetness, which was not as flavoursome as cherries should be, even frozen or, dare I suggest it, canned varieties. The dessert was edible and the ice-cream very good but we both agreed that some more work was needed on the pudding front at Potters.

It was the only demerit in a meal of well-rounded overall quality.