Farmers' markets have become London's new salons, according to last week's Spectator. (According to various other publications they have also become a place for swindling butchers to con the public with a massive mark-ups on fake 'organic' meat but let's not go into that now.) Frances Osborne, in the Speccie, quoted the opinion of one 'gastronomic doyenne' who said: "Even I doyenne indeed! am surprised at how obsessed with sourcing food people have become."

This obsession, no doubt, also contributes hugely to the popularity of a farmshop such as Daylesford Organic, near Kingham, whither many of these same 'salonistes' on day trips or weekend 'leave' from London journey in their Bentleys, Porsches and Range Rovers to stock up with goodies such as honey, chutneys, meat (nothing fake here, of course!) , speciality cheeses, freshly grown produce and wonderful home-baked bread.

Sometimes they stay for lunch at the well-managed caf, where many of these ingredients can be enjoyed in a tantalising range of imaginative dishes prepared by a team of excellent chefs. At this time of the year, lunch and, indeed, mid-morning pastries and other snacks, or afternoon tea can be enjoyed out of doors, amid examples of exotic topiary. Like to take one of the bushes home? Yours for around £900.

Oddly, we 'locals' seem for some reason to have overlooked the excellencies of this booming business, which was set up three years ago by Carole Bamford, the wife of Sir Anthony Bamford, who owns JCB diggers. Though dimly aware of it from mentions in the 'foodie' press and glossy magazines, I had somehow concluded that it was not for 'local' people except perhaps for those in Kingham itself, recently voted Country Life's favourite village. Had this been the case it would have been the precise opposite of the celebrated shop featured in The League of Gentlemen, where only locals are welcome.

"There is nothing here for you," said Rosemarie, as we passed between its well-stocked shelves, in unconscious repetition of one of the catchphrases from this popular TV comedy. She meant that all the lovely home-made cheeses, the Daylesford speciality pork pies, the rich yellow butter and the thick cream were off-limits for one on my low-cholesterol diet. But there were other things, including delicious-looking vegetables and fruit white asparagus the size of Christmas crackers and rhubarb that might have doubled (the sticks still had leaves) for parasols.

One of these might have been needed to shield us from the sun after we arrived for lunch last Thursday and found all of the outdoor tables with umbrellas already occupied. But this was to reckon without the determination of one of my companions. Eyeing the huge wooden table next to us ("Those benches are so comfortable"), Ali deduced that its occupants would soon be leaving. A moment or two hovering over them were those incantations I heard under her breath? settled the matter and they were soon off. They bequeathed us a wine glass stuffed with stubbed-out fags. What filthy manners some people have.

Ali had been for lunch at Daylesford the previous week hence her knowledge of the comfort of those benches; hence her certainty that there would be 'something there' for me. She had made off with a copy of the menu so I could look at it. Last Thursday's was just as good but almost completely different. What rich variety is here!

With four in our party, we were able to range widely through the dishes on offer, bringing considerable enjoyment to all of us. On my right, Marcelle started with a big bowl of glorious chilled avocado soup (£6.95), the menu's Healthy Option which would have been my choice if I hadn't wanted the nostalgia of artichokes vinaigrette (£5.95). There were two of them, served steamed and entire, as they always used to be in the seventies when this dish was the height of metropolitan chic though the picking, dipping and cleaning of the leaves always proved a lengthy distraction from dinner party conversation. The pot of bright yellow vinaigrette was heavenly. We all thought it contained walnut oil and hot English mustard, but the waiter returned from a questing mission in the kitchen with the news that the white wine vinegar was accompanied by Dijon mustard and humble rapeseed oil.

Rosemarie, whom I would have expected to have the Daylesford ham hock terrine, opted for the next obvious favourite of hers, rillettes of pork (£7.95). There were two generous chunks, less greasy than she likes (but, as she acknowledged, the healthier for that), with a sweet red onion marmalade and toasted sour dough bread. (We already had plentiful supplies of bread in various varieties a dark rye was my favourite.) Main courses maintained the standard. My large chunk of pan-fried salmon (£12.95) proved that this much-maligned (and much mishandled) fish can still taste wonderful, especially teamed, as here, with freshly grown asparagus and an elegant sauce mousseline, to which on this occasion fresh chopped chives had been added.

Ali, too, had Daylesford's asparagus as a main ingredient of a well-judged risotto that also featured the farm's smoked bacon and parsley (£12.95). Marcelle enjoyed the vegetarian option of tomato and mozzarella tart with tapenade and dressed leaves (£8.95), while Rosemarie went to the opposite extreme with Daylesford shepherd's pie (£12.95) made with lean minced lamb (or possibly mutton, which is also available here). It came with buttered vegetables cauliflower florets, carrots and shredded cabbage. We shared a bottle of elegant South Australian Sauvignon Blanc (Shaw Smith, £16) and a couple of bottles of sparkling mineral water. (I see as I write that we were only charged for one we owe three quid!) Good strong cafetieres of coffee (£1.75 each), scoops of strawberry, chocolate and vanilla ice cream (£4.95), and a rich chocolate brownie (£3) were enjoyed around the group to complete this lovely lunch in the country.

Eschewing the £200 wellies on sale, I carried home a large bag of hand-picked spinach and a lovely white crusty loaf. They tasted much better.