The Isle of Wight is a place of balance and harmony. Its shape is satisfyingly symmetrical and even its eastern and western rivers have the same name.

In summer 2010, Cowes - the Island's most northerly town - offered the incongruous yet successful marriage of the municipal and the Michelin, with Robert Thompson at Northwood House. In the autumn of the same year, Matt and Cat tried out the southerly version of the grand restaurant embedded in a council park; the Royal Hotel has expanded its empire into Ventnor Botanic Garden, rebranding the tea room as the Royal Garden Café.

Matt and Cat were in the deep south for the launch of Hoppiness, an alcoholic union of the garden's hops and a local brewery. Among the hop fayre's rural crafts, beer-hawkers and local produce was the grandest barbeque M and C had ever encountered. OK, so the equipment was pretty standard; but the man flipping the burgers was none other than Alan Staley, head chef at the Royal Hotel. The smell of the singeing meat wafted into Matt’s nostrils and it took a mighty strength of his will to walk past the bbq en route for lunch in the café on the lower terrace.

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The lure of the new beer combined with unseasonally clement weather meant that the Hoppiness festival was extremely well attended. Consequently, the café was undergoing the mother of all stress tests. Although the queue was snaking out of the door when Matt and Cat arrived, there were still tables both indoors and on the little suntrap patio. Parking Matt at a sunny table inside the café, Cat joined the queue. The choice for Matt was a no-brainer – straight from the specials board, beef hotpot with Hoppiness and dumplings. Cat's own choice was less immediate. Fannying about between eggs on toast and cream tea, she finally chose sardines on toast once it was her turn at the counter. Tea for Matt and a glass of elderflower cordial finished off the order.

The counter was well-staffed, which meant that the wait to order had not been a long one. Cat’s till-jockey was particularly attentive, maintaining an unexpected and welcome level of eye contact throughout the transaction. Cat thought she may have been rumbled, either that or there could have been some 'Mrs Robinson'-type scenario brewing. Alas for the old bird, it was just her imagination - there was nothing brewing but the tea.

Back at the table, Matt was admiring the decorative rosemary plant on it, the pot of which was wrapped in a bit of rustic sacking. All very Sunday-supplement. He'd also been watching the staff busying themselves with clearing tables. The business of the café was processed very slickly; customer turnover was quick and the tables were made ready for the next incumbents without delay. Cat returned with the cutlery and drinks and there was just enough time for a quick tweet before their food arrived.

Cat's sardines on toast was a simple but beautifully presented meal. The little silvery fish were draped over a pile of hot buttered white toast and garnished with a sliver of lime. The salty sardines were delicious, and went well with the lime. Alas Cat's slice was a thin one but she wrung it out to the pith.

Matt's stew was a real winter warmer: delicious, hot stew, heaped with chunky meat and veg, and some aromatically herby dumplings. In fact, given the unseasonably warm weather, the dish seemed incongruous, but Matt nonetheless ate it with the requisite gusto. Anyway, it just isn't the done thing to pick at a dumpling hotpot. You wolf it down, wipe your chin and look for more. Matt, a stickler for propriety, was obliged to conform to tradition.

The tea came with all the trimmings: milk jug, china pot. The pot probably started out intact but, after a tour of duty serving Ventnor's afternoon tea-goers, was a bit the worse for wear. However, the chipped spout did not detract from the flavour or effectiveness of the tea and Matt was much restored by its drinking.

For those who fear that the Royal Hotel's caterers can only produce meals that County Press trencherman Keith Newbery might scoff at, the Royal Garden Café offers clear evidence to the contrary. The menu features very reasonably-priced and unfussy lunches, even including the unreformedly proletarian beans on toast. However, in the delightful setting of the botanic garden and with service a cut above your average tea shop, a cup of tea with a magnificent meringue is elevated to a grand experience.

After their lunch, Matt and Cat once again approached Mr Staley's barbecue out in the garden. This time Matt gave in to temptation. Accepting a (complementary) burger in a bun from the cheery and smartly-uniformed Royal staff, he finally had an excuse to obtain some Hoppiness beer to wash it down. The combination was really splendid. The beer, which Matt had expected to be a bit of a novelty, actually turned out to be a very decent brew, which certainly lived up to its name. The burger was just a burger. Yes, friends, a simple, uncomplicated burger. Just like every other you've ever eaten at any barbeque... except somehow so much better. What those clever Royal people do to their food is quite simply a mystery, but the touch of Staley's skilled team seems to transform even a beefburger into a notable eating experience. Maybe the elevation of the pedestrian burger is a metaphor for the reborn old council café at the Gardens - new ideas and investment are lifting that stalwart from a distinctly average venue to something that is fresh, exciting and has much promise. Matt and Cat were very pleased with what they found down at Ventnor - let's hope these new kids on the block will keep going throughout the winter too.

Visit the website: http://www.botanic.co.uk/pages/cafe.htm