Time was when Rossendale seemed like the arse end of nowhere - a kind of sprawling micropolis of shoe factories, quarries and millponds set adrift in the Lancashire hills. Unmoored between Bury, Bolton and Burnley, neither haven nor satellite, Rossendale took a long time to develop the profile which parts of it have begun to acquire in recent years.

First the steam train appeared. Then the sculpture trail. The boom happened. Boutiques sprang up. The Irwell was cleaned. Footpaths were marked. Interesting restaurants opened. (Very little of the preceding applies to Bacup, by the way). And now the Witch Way bus hares confidently back and forth across the M66, and ramblers can be found everywhere from Waugh’s Well to Peel Tower. But while parts of the valley, notably Ramsbottom, have cashed in and made their mark on the culinary map, contemporaries such as Rawtenstall have been slower to make a splash.

An exception is Nino’s (245a Bacup Rd, Rawtenstall), which has grown both in size and apparent reputation over the past couple of decades. Confirmed “wag-worthy” in the nationals a couple of years back – this was around the time that local lass and emerging supermodel Agyness Deyn couldn’t get the paparazzi off her backside – the food is consistently praised (“the Ivy of the north” gushed one metropolitan hack).

To step into it you might momentarily think you’ve entered the set of a Martin Scorsese film. It’s the kind of loomy yet twinkling US-style ristorante around which the director happily trundles a camera every once in a while. Mirrors, spots, parquet flooring, granite tiles, soft, sleek banquettes...all in tasteful array. To the left, by the moodily spot-lit cafe bar, lurks a baby grand piano like a chintz monster in hiding. To the right, a bustling dining area, accommodating 150 tightly-packed diners.

As it happens, tonight is ‘Showtime’ – the show being a tribute set of Neil Diamond numbers. I’m not the biggest fan of the supper club format - I prefer to sit and yak - and I’m not the biggest fan of Neil Diamond, either. But the restaurant is full, the birthday party opposite us are buzzing, glasses are clinking, and the hum of the place is good.

There’s complementary bruschetta with mushroom and anchovy. My friend orders campari and orange (£3.80). Her holiday drink, she says, before sniffing that on the continent you get freshly squeezed (and the measures are bigger, of course). From the cocktails menu I order a mohito (£6.50), and eventually locate the drink beneath the mountain of crushed ice in my glass. I have a fleeting flashback of Winfield’s Shoe Superstore in Haslingden, which, back in the mists of time, pioneered the Slush Puppy machine in this part of the world by a good ten years.

The house merlot, Delle Venezie - at 250ml/ £3.45, an IGT which is Italy’s fastest growing ‘super Tuscan’ brand - proves a wiser, velvet alternative.

Showtime at Nino’s spells a showtime menu, we learn, which is drawn from the house specials.

That’s £24 per head for three courses. For primi piatti I order the chicken and black pudding spring rolls with chili sauce - which, on a night of thick flavours, hits the spot. The rolls are light and crisp, the thick chicken and blood sausage tender and huskily tart.

My friend’s asparagus florentine prompts the observation that there’s a certain type of restaurant where everything is sauce, as though the essence of a particular dish is enshrined solely in the suffix of its given name. Thus the ‘florentine’ is enjoyed rather less than the al dente asparagus it conceals. The observation is revisited on the arrival of her main, a tagliata of swordfish in garlic, chilli, tomato, caper, anchovy and oregano. Here though, the slightly wincing Mediterranean flavours of tomato-borne caper and olive hold precedence over the hapless fish.

For my own secondi piatti I go for the crab, which is served whole, gratinated in the shell with rice and thermidor sauce. This is rich and soft almost to fluffiness, the creamy thermidor bringing forth the fanfare of the crab’s crustacean flavours. A side of fresh veg is, like the asparagus, cooked to perfection.

Crab is of course very filling when served whole - so I’m not sure how ready I am for the chef’s homemade trifle when it appears: topped with meringue to stoutly elegant effect. Penetration through the choc-dusted meringue is rewarded with with a light, zingy, fruity sponge. But it’s a less creamy take on the traditional. An earthier, less sinful-seeming trifle, perhaps. No less sweet (in fact the soft meringue is sweet to a tee) but a bit drier and less divulging of some of the trifle’s more traditional vices.

Meanwhile, the singer sings his song: Cracklin’ Rosie, Play Me, Last Train To Clarksville. And with dinner over, there’s a slow gravitation to the dance floor from the birthday party - which is when we leave, lest the drinks bill swell fearsomely out of control.

I was in two minds about Nino’s.

It has some of what Living Room impresario Tim Bacon described recently to Confidential (click here) as that ‘liquid environment’; muted browns, golds and glassware shimmering like brandy. The live music and lunchtime loyalty cards (and not least the evident client numbers) suggest a business connecting with its market. And in an age where the local accent can enliven an HBO serial, Nino’s shows that Rawtenstall can no less do justice to an ambitious ristorante. The baby grand aspires to a cocktail pianist, though; as does the lovely interior.

Please note Nino’s only takes bookings for parties of four or more.

Rating:	12.5/20
Breakdown:	6/10 food 2.5/5 service 4/5 ambience
Address:	Nino’s Ristorante Italiano 245a Bacup Road Rawtenstall Lancashire BB4 7PA Tel: 01706 215868 ninosrestaurant

Venues are rated against the best examples of their kind: fine dining against the best fine dining, cafes against the best cafes. Following on from this the scores represent: 1-5 saw your leg off and eat it, 6-9 get a DVD, 10-11 if you must, 12-13 if you’re passing,14-15 worth a trip,16-17 very good, 17-18 exceptional, 19 pure quality, 20 perfect. More than 20: Gordo gets carried away