Political correctness that I cannot entirely reprehend presumably lies behind the decision to promote the Black Boy in Headington with the image of a horse rather than a human.

It was as long ago as 1990 that the sculpted figure of a black servant, which once occupied a niche at the front of the building, was smashed by vandals and replaced by a painted image of a child chimney sweep. Now this has gone, too, and Abi Rose, and chef Chris Bentham, who took over this fine Old Headington pub in partnership last October, have adopted an equine theme (see right) in their advertising.

While traditionalists will no doubt object to this, it seems to me a proper reflection of changed times – even though I entertain a warm regard for the Black Boy as it was. I knew it well, and visited it as often as my liver and nose could stand during the long tenancy of Leigh Jackson, who sadly died (retired some years by then) in 2007. The liver was tested by the need always to taste Leigh’s latest malt whisky discovery and (of course!) compare it with many of the others in his vast collection; the nose suffered through an intake of snuff of which there were always copious quantities in considerable variety behind the bar.

That bar would hardly be recognised (see right) by Leigh were he to return. He would likewise be surprised by the modern decor which gives an altogether airier feel to the place. What he would certainly be pleased with, I think, is the food, for Chris and Abi have had the rather bright idea of offering what is essentially up-market pub grub within the ambience of a restaurant.

The menu features, for example, such ‘comfort food’ main courses as beer battered fish and chips, home-made burger, steak and kidney pie, sausage and mash, and steak frites. Among the starters are . . . er, well, apart from soup there’s not much else you could call ‘pub grub’, but then pubs didn’t use to have starters. Here you can sample, for example, ham hock terrine, salmon fishcake and herb salad with beetroot, goat’s cheese and walnut.

Actually, this should be ‘herb salad with beetroot’ since all ‘bs’ that appear on the menu are printed in bold type. This makes you realised how comparatively infrequently the letter appears: only once, for example, among the 11 hot drinks listed, and that in ‘double espresso’.

Like the sound of the food? I certainly think you might like the taste.

The popularity of the Black Boy is such that Abi could only just squeeze us in when we called on Saturday lunchtime begging for a table that evening. But squeezed in we were – or rather not, since our table in front of the fire gave us plenty of room and a commanding view over the rest of the room and its happy crowd of diners.

I chose to start my meal with a dish that can either be ordered as a starter or (for £8.95) as a main. This was a superb champagne and wild mushroom risotto, bursting with the woodland flavours of the fungi and with the rice just as I like it, not in the sloppy modern style but with a touch of bite to it. For Rosemarie there was the day’s soup – an enjoyable (if worryingly Germolene-coloured) blend of carrot and beetroot with pleasing orange overtones.

My first plan for main course was wild mushroom lasagne but, realising this might have been rather too much of a good thing, I switched to the fish pie. This was excellent – mainly salmon, with some smoked fish and a very cheesy topping. It came with green beans and I ordered a well-dressed herb side salad. Rosemarie had braised Lincolnshire pork belly (I knew she would!) – superb rich-flavoured, moist meat, served with mashed potatoes, green beans and a red wine jus.

She managed after that to find room for a dark chocolate pot, not as runny at the centre as she had hoped, with home-made shortbread. I passed on pud but – with a warm thought for the late Leigh – treated myself to a Talisker malt. Just the one!