There are some restaurants which can get away with the cardinal waiter sin, and others which can't. So, as the full pint glass tumbled towards my new linen trousers in horrifying slow motion, it seemed a good moment to consider whether the meal which had preceded this hugely undesirable moment merited forgiveness.

The weather certainly helped, although no restaurant can take credit for that. But Fairyhill does offer the perfect location to enjoy a sunny afternoon, set in luscious countryside on the Gower peninsula, and if you can bag a space on the terrace for aperetifs you'll certainly be set fair to cope with most of what waiters might want to throw at you in the course of a meal. Inside too, the set-up is impressive, with seemingly endless lounges and bars to deliberate over the menu.

But therein lies a hint of darker forces. Fairyhill caters for the upmarket guest, and the owners are keen to keep it that way. Don't misunderstand - service is polite and prompt - but there's a sense that you should worship the shrine fully, and perhaps feel lucky to be there, even though you're paying a healthy sum for the honour.

All of which is fine if the food lives up to the swagger. And in part it does. These are chefs with an enviable eye for presentation, and a willingness to experiment. Scrambled eggs might sound a let-down as a first course, but these were perfectly cooked duck eggs mixed with local cockles, Penclawdd grit and all. Gently seasoned too, and just the right size. The ox-cheek 'pie' was mostly a winner too, although balancing a pastry crust on a rich slow-baked ox stew a-pie-does-not-make in the regular universe we argue.

But there are some misses too. Fairyhill makes great play of its locally sourced produce, and puts much of it to great use. Pride, though, seems to get in the way occasionally. On the restaurant's doorstep, almost literally, is one of the finest makers of chocolate brownies, and yet Fairyhill evidently make their own for the restaurant. Fine if you're going to do a cracking job, but there was nothing thrilling about these little chaps, a triumph of texture over flavour. Certainly no chocolatey exhileration you'll get from the local rivals. And watch out if you're planning to spice it up with a glass of brandy - 9 quid is the cheapest you'll find on the somewhat eye-wateringly expensive drinks menu.

So, what of those beer-stained trousers? If only I could have afforded the brandy it wouldn't have been so bad, but I won't be sending in this particular dry-cleaning bill. Even with stinking clothes, and a lighter wallet, I left Fairyhill with a smile on my face, and that can't be a bad sign.