The photographs on this page say all that is necessary concerning the attractive appearance, both inside and out, of Bicester’s new Trinity restaurant. Well, perhaps not quite all.

That of the exterior was obviously taken at night, with lights picking out the appealing features of the former Congregational Church, which was built in 1729.

The indoor shot is a daytime one, and is nothing like the place as it seemed to Rosemarie and me during our recent dinner.

We were enveloped in Stygian gloom as a consequence of lighting – a flickering nightlight per table – presumably designed to assist in the ‘churchy’ feel. I summoned more of these feeble candles from the tables around us, but even so was barely able to discern what was before me on my plate. A pity, because I am sure the food would have looked rather good. It certainly tasted it.

This was our first visit to the place since its changeover earlier in the year from being The Old Chapel. I found this restaurant quite good when I reviewed it at the beginning of last year. Not everyone, it seems, was so lucky.

Trinity, the new name, reflects in part the religious dimension to the building but principally the fact that it is controlled by a partnership of three people. These are managing director Andrew Huffer, general manager Andy Smyth who used to run a chain of diners in London, and executive chef Jayne Smyth who has previously worked with the likes of Gary Rhodes. The head chef is Gavin Austin.

With plenty of space at their disposal, they are clearly out to ‘work’ the building for all it is worth. In addition to the restaurant area there is a tea room serving breakfast, tea, coffees, pastries and light meals, an upstairs function room that can cater for parties of up to 100, and a large bar and associated seating area.

It was to this last, perhaps, that we might like to have been directed on our arrival for dinner. That’s the usual form, isn’t it? A drink . . . A look at the menu . . . Our arrival wasn’t quite like that, however. The young man who greeted us (though that’s hardly the word) had no record of my telephone booking and seemed to suggest we had no right to be there. He scuttled off to the bar, leaving us in the care of a young lady who took us straight to a table – chivvying us along rather when we looked inclined to linger – where a minute or two later she came for our order.

We successfully pleaded for time to be allowed to study the menu (we could just read it amid the encircling gloom). All then went very well until the end of the meal – thanks in part to the courteous attentions of Mr Smyth – when, without our requesting the bill, it was plonked down in front of us by the waitress, who quickly followed up a minute later with a request that it be paid. When I looked slightly perplexed (as well I might!), I was told: “Don’t worry. You don’t have to go straightaway.”

That was some relief, then. In fact, it turned out that this was only the waitress’s second shift. I feel confident that by now this very pleasant young woman – as she quite clearly is – will be better acquainted with the art of restaurant service.

The food, as I said, was very good. My starter was a flavour-packed round cake of rough-shredded ham-hock terrine, which I followed with perhaps my favourite bird of the game season, a partridge. This one was not well enough hung for my taste (are they ever these days, when so many ignorant customers are likely to complain “It tastes off”?), but it was certainly tender. With it came a slab of dauphinoise potatoes, long strips of parsnip crisps and a lovely sweet sauce featuring white grapes and that autumn delight, chestnuts.

Rosemarie started with what I laughingly dubbed a “late, late breakfast” of tempura black pudding, with a poached egg – sorry, hen’s egg – and smoked bacon. First-class. She continued with a huge chunk of confit pork belly, sourced from Wood’s Farm, with date and apple purée, mash, crackling and port jus.

Vegetables – so often a boring disappointment in restaurants – are excellent here. We shared dishes of green beans with shallots and garlic and a buttery carrot and swede purée. They also do peas with lettuce, bacon and cream (yum).

Rosemarie ended with a slice of perfectly constructed apple tarte Tatin, heady with the taste of Calvados, Normandy’s great addition to the drinks tray, and served with vanilla ice cream. I eyed enviously, sipping my coffee.