So why was he so quiet after taking over Armstrongs in Barnsley and turning it into Limes?

We'd heard whispers. Cary's gone Italian.

Well, he has done a couple of spells in Italian restaurants since he packed in Sheffield's Supper Club.

Oh that it had been quiet on our night.

You walk in the door of this imposing three-storey building on Dodworth Road to a blast of Sixties and Seventies pop at discotheque levels.

You could feel the noize (think Slade) so we hurried upstairs, past the two giant nude paintings, to the bar – which had a rival sound system going.

Here are fake leopardskin barstools and sculpted 'tits and bums' torsos on the walls, while the room next door has a flat screen telly.

You might think you've walked into a tarts boudoir by mistake but it's exactly what Cary and his backer, a millionnaire called Dave, want.

They've seen their catering future and it isn't for the faint-hearted.

They thought hard before adding the word restaurant on the sign board.

The building, once the home of Restaurant Peano and Armstrongs under Nick Pound, "has done fine dining in the past and it hasn't worked," says Cary.

"We just want to make it more accessible."

That means no more six-six-six choice menu and mellow music.

"People expect fine dining from me but I'm more fired up than I've ever been before," he adds.

The menu is basically Italian – pizzas and pastas – on to which is bolted a bit of posh and Cary's Greatest Hits. And steaks. Sometimes both.

There's a slate of pizzas including one with a topping of rib-eye steak and horseradish creme fraiche – sounds like a fancy Domino's Pizza.

You can study the menu in the bar – it's one of those big, fashionable laminated sheets with booze on the back – but order at your table. They even give you a numbered plastic check.

We found ordering a bit of a poser. While this is the first chance Barnsley has had to taste Cary's excellent seafood slammers or cheeky little Thai pot noodle on the starters, let alone his much copied signature dish, crispy monkfish with chilli jam on the mains, we've already eaten those.

Baked camembert? That's party time.

Back downstairs (more tits and bums in the dining room) we are pleased our table is in an alcove away from the noise.

In the end we began with a tomato soup with basil (£4) and chicken liver paté (£4.95).

The next day Cary rang to say he didn't think much of our choice.

You can learn a lot about a kitchen from a soup, Cary, and what I learned about yours is that you make it almost cream of tomato for Barnsley, haven't given it enough depth, forgot the touch of sugar to relieve the tart edge and send it out with three slices of toast, each burned.

However the chicken liver paté is classically good with a zingy little tomato chutney and toasted brioche.

Now Cary would find it hard to cook badly and he mainly doesn't here.