Having written enthusiastically last week about the food and ambiance at one of Oxford’s riverside pubs — the newly named Punter on Osney Island — I shall conduct readers a mile or so downstream today to sing the praises of another.

This, too, has seen a name change, though not a radical one, becoming the Isis Farmhouse rather than the Isis Tavern (once it was the Isis Hotel) when new owners Jonathan and Jane Price bought it from Greene King in 2008.

Dating from 1861, the pub is exceptionally handsome from without, sitting solidly in a huge expanse of garden, which Jonathan is steadily taming and improving. He has completed a well-managed barn renovation, creating a popular venue for events and live entertainment. Inside the pub the decor is, to say the least, eccentric, with its bare pink-plastered walls and pendant boat hulls lit up like Christmas trees. But squishy sofas and the like make for comfort.

Our archived story detailing the Prices’ takeover refers to Jonathan as “a part-time psychiatrist”. I read this with a smile since from what I know of customers’ demands and expectations of a pub landlord he is now likely to be in full-time work as a shrink.

Seriously, he and his staff bring polish and charm to the business of looking after their many visitors, while Jane satisfies the inner man (and woman) with excellent home-cooked food. The range is not extensive: during the winter months, when the pub is open only between Friday and Sunday, there are a couple of hearty, freshly-made dishes on offer (just one on Friday), as well as wonderful cakes which have proved one of the big draws of the place under the Prices. And there’s the house novelty (as it seems to me) of beans on toast with cheese.

Situated in fields between Donnington Bridge and Iffley Lock, the pub can be visited only by people in boats, on foot or on bikes, to which I must add ‘in pushchairs’ to take account of the junior customers whose presence (along with that of dogs) introduces a true family spirit to the place.

A bike is my usual option, since I pass the Isis most days on my rides around the city. Last Sunday, on what might perhaps be the last such outing of the year, I sat in the sunshine with a pot of freshly brewed tea and a wedge of super blackberry and apple crumble cake — £3.90, the lot, a snip.

In the previous few weeks, Rosemarie and I had made three visits by boat. Two were with our friend and neighbour Jill Moss, and other pals. On the second we were, bar me, an all-female party on Jill’s Capella II. They proved an able crew, leaving me with nothing to do but assist in pouring the gin.

Brightwell Gold, from the Appleford Brewery, was the tipple of choice for most on arrival. Made with wheat and Goldings hops it proved every bit as refreshing as the Cotswold lager I sampled.

Besides the beans on toast, there were four choices chalked up on the blackboard. Two of them — autumn vegetable casserole and poached salmon with new potatoes and salad (£8) — found no takers. Rosemarie, Shirley and I all went for the beef and mushroom casserole with pumpkin mash. You can see what it looked like in the photographs, and it tasted every bit as good as it looked, with glorious gravy (and fresh bread to dunk in it) and loads of tender meat. Pom and Jill had a dressed salad somewhat in the style of a niçoise — chunks of pan-fried tuna, with green beans, radicchio, olives and new potatoes.

All was in quantity sufficient for the heartiest appetites, though this did not prevent the ordering of shared portions of cinnamon-flavoured carrot cake and a moist-but-crunchy rhubarb crumble cake.

These could become seriously addictive.