WE MIGHT almost have been dropped into a series of game shows. Ciro's, we were told, was the place to go in Chester.
 But, for Chester read Pulford, well south of the city. And, in true Anneka Rice and Treasure Hunt style, we drove past a few times before we found the place. If someone had said the Grosvenor Arms in Pulford, we'd have found it straightaway. It's a familiar watering hole on a Sunday afternoon in summer, a great place for a bar meal and a drink and the prices are reasonable. Yet that's another story. Get into the place and then try to find Ciro. We decided to ask at the bar. But, ah, so obvious. Through two sets of double doors right at the back of the pub, veer right and you're there. If everything were that simple, especially if a restaurant is looking for business. When we actually found the place, things did improve, though we were left waiting at restaurant reception a fair while before anyone took notice. Once through the interrogation as to whether we had a room number we were assigned a table. And then Mark started sniffing. "Chlorine," he said. "It smells of swimming pool." He may be hypersensitive in the nasal department, but he was right. The aroma pervaded the whole restaurant. A quick wander once we'd paid the bill proved the point. There's an extensive gym attached, which explained why there was a procession of flush-faced, wet-haired, fit-looking young men walking through the restaurant every five minutes or so. That apart, this is a superb place. It's light and airy, conceived as an open-air Italian venue. There's a glass roof and a range of trees and other plants which give an air of being al fresco. Chairs and tables are fashioned out of wrought iron and there's a spacious feel to the whole place. Once we sat down, we were asked if we wanted drinks and chose to wait awhile when looking at the menu. The wine list is far from extensive but hugely well chosen. Add to that some beautifully presented bread - for which we did not ask - and pureed black olives and some lemon mayonnaise. What a way to go. Save for the accompaniment of the Gypsy Kings. "If this lot got a royalty for every time they play in a British restaurant," said Mark, "they'd never need to pluck a string again." Agreed. Silence, please. Mark immediately settled on fresh sardines for starter only to be told they were off. Good start. | 
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