It’s the time of year when the self-righteous became emboldened.

For a month their numbers swell as guilt over a season of indulgence drives flocks of people to pack in the booze and rich food, intent on a puritanical lifestyle of spirulina fuelled sun rise yoga.

It rarely lasts and most sensible folks know life isn’t about binges, and manically see-sawing between Courvoisier and wheatgrass, but about gentle indulging as much as you can get away with.

That’s why The Gourmand could never recommend battening down the hatches in January.

The month is scientifically proven as one of the year’s most depressing.

The last thing you should be doing is heaping on the misery by depriving yourself of some of life's greatest pleasures.

In fact you could go one further and not only abstain from abstaining but actively embrace the pub as a lifestyle choice.

We already spend far to much of the year shivering on picnic benches craning for rays and trying to enjoy beer in the outdoors.

Winter is the only time where we can truly embrace the dark and soothing vibrations of the English public house.

And there are a few places in the city where that sense of snugness and slow burning indulgence is provided for better then The Ginger Dog.

One of four Gingers but with probably the lowest profile, the Kemp Town based Dog has all the trappings of a country inn, with dark wooden floors, Chesterfield style seating and a well-seasoned bar.

The dining area is actually much bigger than the drinking area, but it’s more than enough to create that convivial atmosphere which goes beyond the illusory.

And given it is a Ben McKellar establishment, a chef-proprietor who has probably done more to push forward gastronomy in the city than anyone else, the food is illustrious.

Scallops are a restaurant staple, which well executed can elicit eyebrow popping wonderment – yet can just as easily slip into frowning tedium. Pea and bacon is a classic accompaniment but risks falling into the clichéd category. But this was no ordinary scallop dish. The fleshy lumps were resting on a cereal like scattering of toasted oats, sweet splodges of raison puree to rounding off the breakfast theme. Smoky lardons mingled with the granola, while the peas came whole and shelled. Burnt apple and smoked roe were also writhing around on the plate. It’s a busy, complex plate – but each section plays its part in the marvellous medley.

Given it’s a pub, it’s important to retain a sense of tradition – whatever that is. So the main courses did have that pubby familiarity, albeit at a much higher level than you would get at most others.

It reminded me of one gastronome who judged food at Tom Kerridge’s two Michelin Starred pub The Hand and Flowers “ok” – but said lunch at The Ginger Pig was much more enjoyable.

The confit duck leg was wrinkly and wise from its hours of slow bathing. Crispy salt specked skin held together the bursting sinew of a muscular leg. The plate was dressed up in the colours and shades of winter, all brown roots and leafy zings. A fondant sweet potato, sat beside other roasted roots. Roasted pepper may not be of the season but it gave another hue to the brown-red continuum. It was held together with stickily reduced jus. The craftsmanship and elevation of the humble ingredients was enough to make The Gourmand flush with all the brightness of the pink leg.

Elsewhere on the menu was more perfection testing cookery.

A triple hit of seaside merriment came with the roasted monkfish, which was splashed with butter flushed crab bisque, surely one of mankind's greatest creations. Also onside were lardons of cured salmon, and salsify which had been bathed in lemon and taken on all its worldly essence.

Rooted in classical French cooking, the phrase ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, came to mind, so exceptional was it.

The desert was a chocolate lover’s paradise, with a cremeux – a kind of super rich, hyper chocced mouse – wrapped in bitter sweet caramel.

There was also the rather ingenious option of a liquid desert, with dog-nog, mixing hazelnut liqueur and rum, with coconut cream, and pistachio, for a boozy and sumptuous conclusion.

Foodie fads may bring variety and excitement to dining, but its comforting to know The Ginger Dog and its flame-headed ilk are doing what they do best - consistently excellent classic cuisine in the kind of relaxed place who want to spend time and money in.