95a High Street, Annan 01461 201999 Food: Scottish/continental traditional with a modern twist Price: £25 for three courses Wheelchair access: No Dumfriesshire is something of a culinary desert, where many chefs appear to have the creativity and flair of jellyfish - not to mention a tendency to serve food that looks like it has been dropped from a great height on to the plate. There are obviously exceptions, such as the Linen Room in Dumfries, but it's a fine day indeed when a new restaurant opens, and an even better day when it turns out to be one to which you would return. And when it's a place you would actually rate as exceptional - well, it's a miracle, frankly.

Del Amitri, in Annan, is such a place, and it's quietly causing a stir in the shire. Despite its name, it is not a shrine to the eponymous pop-rock band, who claim their moniker was invented for its meaninglessness. Nor is it yet another Italian, as many people had predicted it would be because this used to be Pagani's, a pizza/pasta parlour of some repute.

In fact, it turns out this restaurant is simply about good food, serving seasonal, fresh and local ingredients. If you need classification, Del Amitri could be put in the "fine dining" box, but there's nothing patronisingly confusing about the menu and nothing molecular about this gastronomy.

The food is served in a welcoming room, with wooden floors, leather seats and dark brown walls adorned with pictures of nineteenth-century Annan. The staff exude a friendly efficiency that is never overwhelming. The place is run by a couple - the wife is front of house and the husband is in the kitchen, where he changes the menu every week.

Tonight, there is an astonishing array of choices, created by someone who is obviously not scared to stick brave options on the menu. There's loin of rabbit, fricassee of veal and the more traditional rib-eye steak or red mullet.

To start, I've opted for a soft-poached duck egg on a bed of chive pasta and wild mushrooms, while the husband has chosen rillette of hot and smoked salmon with citrus fruit. The thick, oozy, orange yolk coats the fresh, buttery pasta comfortingly, while the salmon is super-fresh and as light as a spring day. The portions are substantial, and after this I feel comfortably replete - I don't know how the Italians get used to pasta for starters.

Then comes my confit of lamb, a meat so soft that I could eat it with a spoon, wrapped in Parma ham to keep its shape. It's obviously been cooked for hours, and I mean that in a good way. Puy lentils run through it, and dauphinoise potatoes, carrot puree, baby turnips and broad beans complement the lot.

The hubby tucks into his veal stew, served in a light cream sauce with spring vegetables and truffle mash. The French would call this a blanquette, and it has echoes of Belgian waterzooi. Either way, it works perfectly, even more so thanks to the rosé wine we share. A plate of green beans tossed in salted butter arrives too, somewhat unnecessarily, but my husband picks at them like they are sweeties.

Fit to burst, we still manage to order dessert, and it's obvious here that the chef has enjoyed himself. The presentation is superb and the taste even better - I have a baby pink rhubarb creme brulee served with the most wonderfully light lemon shortbread and a tower of poached rhubarb and fresh raspberries.

My husband declares his lemon sponge with clotted cream in a brandy snap basket with vanilla syrup "the best pudding he's had in months". Quite an endorsement for someone who has chocolate for breakfast and for whom a meal is not a meal without a sweet. And he's whippet-thin, the traitor.

The whole thing has set us back £54, remarkable for a meal so memorable. This is the kind of food that makes you want to spread the word, and after the good wine we've enjoyed, it's also the kind of experience that makes you want to sing. Robert Burns, who wrote The Deil's Awa Wi' Th' Exciseman on the very spot now occupied by Del Amitri, would surely have appreciated that.