Pint to Pint E-Book

The Telegraph

• Herausgeber: Icon Books
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 305

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

For the dedicated pub-goer and the armchair drinker, here is an enticing selection of 'proper' pubs to gladden the heart and slake the thirst.  All of these pubs get the basics right: they focus on the beer (though the food and wine may also be excellent) and on conversation rather than piped music. They may have a roaring fire in winter and a pleasant beer garden in summer. You can probably bring your dog. Above all, they have a notable character that raises them above the bland corporate pubs that blight the land. It can be hard to say exactly why – but you just know a good pub the moment you enter.  Trusted Telegraph reviewers have made their selection for you, based on highly personal but well-informed criteria, resulting in a nationwide pub crawl like no other. This is the perfect book for anyone who considers a good pub to be a British birthright.

Leseprobe

PINT TO PINT

About the authors

The ‘Pint to Pint’ column is written by a diverse selection of regular Telegraph journalists, among them beer experts, architecture buffs, walkers, rock critics, war correspondents, and scholars of this and that. The column enjoys many tens of thousands of fans and regularly receives letters from readers about its selections. A new pub is featured every Saturday.

The Telegraph

PINT TO PINT

A Crawl Around Britain’s Best Pubs

Published in the UK in 2016 by Icon Books Ltd, Omnibus Business Centre, 39–41 North Road, London N7 9DP email: [email protected]

Sold in the UK, Europe and Asia by Faber & Faber Ltd, Bloomsbury House, 74–77 Great Russell Street, London WC1B 3DA or their agents

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Text copyright © 2016 Telegraph Group Limited

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Typeset by Simmons Pugh Printed and bound in the UK by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

Contents

Publisher’s Foreword

Pint to Pint: The Pub Crawl

SOUTH-WEST ENGLAND

The Marisco Tavern, Lundy Island

The Minerva Inn, Plymouth

The Hyde Park Microbrewery, Plymouth

The Cott Inn, Dartington, Devon

The Steam Packet Inn, Totnes, Devon

The Masons Arms, Branscombe Village, Devon

The Bell Inn, Watchet, Somerset

The King Alfred, Burrowbridge, Somerset

The Three Horseshoes Inn, Batcombe, Somerset

The Plough Inn, Congresbury, Somerset

The Orchard Inn, Bristol

The Salamander, Bath

The Ebrington Arms, Chipping Campden, Gloucestershire

SOUTH-EAST ENGLAND

The General Eliott, South Hinksey, Oxfordshire

The Bear Inn, Oxford

The Wellington Arms, Baughurst, Hampshire

The Willow Tree, Winchester

The Jolly Sailor, Old Bursledon, Hampshire

The Bat and Ball, Clanfield and Hambledon, Hampshire

The Three Horseshoes, Thursley, Surrey

The Grantley Arms, Wonersh, Surrey

The Halfway Bridge, Lodsworth, West Sussex

The North Laine Brewhouse, Brighton

The Snowdrop Inn, Lewes, East Sussex

The Crown Inn, Hastings, East Sussex

The Globe Inn Marsh, Rye, East Sussex

The Three Chimneys, Biddenden, Kent

Four Candles, Broadstairs, Kent

The Swan on the Green, West Peckham, Kent

The Bottle House Inn, Penshurst, Kent

The Queen’s Arms, Cowden Pound, Kent

GREATER LONDON

The Hope, Carshalton

The Jolly Woodman, Beckenham

The Ivy House, London SE15

The Three Stags, London SE1

The White Swan, Twickenham

The Finborough Arms, London SW10

CASK, London SW1

The Windsor Castle, London SW1

The Cow, London W2

The Spaniards Inn, London NW3

BrewDog Camden, London NW1

The Pig and Butcher, London N1

The Grapes, London E14

EAST OF ENGLAND

The Crooked Billet, Leigh-on-Sea, Essex

The Old Lifeboat House, Clacton, Essex

The Swan, Stratford St Mary, Suffolk

The Anchor Inn, Woodbridge, Suffolk

The Village Inn, West Runton, Norfolk

The Lifeboat Inn, Thornham, Norfolk

The Railway Arms, Downham Market, Norfolk

The Brewery Tap, Peterborough

EAST MIDLANDS

The Soar Bridge Inn, Barrow upon Soar, Leicestershire

The Exeter Arms, Derby

The Pattenmakers Arms, Duffield, Derbyshire

The Hand and Heart, Nottingham

The Robin Hood and Little John, Arnold, Nottinghamshire

The Dog and Bone, Lincoln

The Little Mill Inn, Rowarth, Derbyshire

The Angler’s Rest, Bamford, Derbyshire

YORKSHIRE & HUMBERSIDE

The Kelham Island, Sheffield

The Rat and Ratchet, Huddersfield

The Booth Wood Inn, Rishworth, West Yorkshire

The Robin Hood Inn, Cragg Vale, West Yorkshire

The Staff of Life, Todmorden, West Yorkshire

The White Lion, Heptonstall, West Yorkshire

The Adelphi Hotel, Leeds

The Fleece, Otley, West Yorkshire

The Craven Arms, Appletreewick, North Yorkshire

Hales’ Bar, Harrogate, North Yorkshire

The Three-Legged Mare, York

The Golden Fleece, York

The Cross Keys, Thixendale, North Yorkshire

The Lion Inn, Blakey Ridge, North Yorkshire

The White Bear Hotel, Masham, North Yorkshire

NORTH-EAST ENGLAND

The Victoria Inn, Durham

The Dun Cow, Sunderland

The Sun Inn, Beamish Museum, County Durham

The Manor House Inn, Carterway Heads, Northumberland

The Dipton Mill Inn, Hexham, Northumberland

The Lion & Lamb, Horsley, Northumberland

The Centurion, Newcastle upon Tyne

The Bridge Hotel, Newcastle upon Tyne

The Bridge Tavern, Newcastle upon Tyne

The Free Trade Inn, Newcastle upon Tyne

St Mary’s Inn, Stannington, Northumberland

The Jolly Fisherman, Craster, Northumberland

The Red Lion Inn, Milfield, Northumberland

SCOTLAND

The Oxford Bar, Edinburgh

The Bridge Inn, Ratho, Midlothian

The Grill, Aberdeen

The Applecross Inn, Applecross, Wester Ross

Drygate, Glasgow

The West Kirk, Ayr

NORTH-WEST ENGLAND

The Britannia Inn, Elterwater, Cumbria

Hole in t’Wall, Bowness-on-Windermere, Cumbria

The Hest Bank Inn, Hest Bank, Lancashire

The Irwell Works Brewery Tap, Ramsbottom, Lancashire

The Cemetery Hotel, Rochdale, Lancashire

The Healey, Rochdale, Lancashire

The Spring Inn, Rochdale, Lancashire

The Red Lion, Littleborough, Lancashire

The Swan, Dobcross, Greater Manchester

The Britons Protection, Manchester

The New Oxford, Salford, Manchester

The Old Boat House, Astley, Greater Manchester

The Swan with Two Nicks, Little Bollington, Cheshire

The Fiddle I’th Bag Inn, Burtonwood, Cheshire

Gallagher’s Pub & Barbers, Birkenhead

The Yew Tree, Bunbury, Cheshire

WEST MIDLANDS

The Devonshire Arms, Burton upon Trent

Hail to the Ale, Wolverhampton

The Great Western, Wolverhampton

The Shakespeare, Birmingham

The Wellington, Birmingham

The Prince of Wales, Moseley, Birmingham

The Old Windmill, Coventry

The Virgins and Castle, Kenilworth, Warwickshire

The Bear, Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire

The Victory, Hereford

The Bridge Inn, Michaelchurch Escley, Herefordshire

WALES

The Old Black Lion, Hay-on-Wye, Powys

The Harp, Old Radnor, Powys

The Rose & Crown, Porthcawl, Bridgend

Publisher’s Foreword

Welcome to Pint to Pint, a celebration of Britain’s best-loved institution, the pub.

What makes a classic pub? There are as many answers to that as there are pub-goers, but some common ground can be found in all of them: they have a warm welcome, they get the beer right, they may well have good food (though it’s not usually the sole focus of the pub), and they are places for convivial conversation or for peaceful contemplation, as you wish. Above all they have character – they are not an exercise in corporate blandness or desperate commercialism.

Seasoned pub fans know a good pub the moment they see one, but it always helps to have some insider knowledge. Here we rely on the Telegraph’s experts to do the hard work for us, testing each pub against the rigorous standards they have devised over years of pub visits.

We have arranged the pubs into a ‘crawl’ – not to be attempted in one go – starting in the far south-west of England and heading east towards London, then up through eastern England to Scotland before returning down the north-western side of England and into Wales. The crawl begins on Lundy Island in the Bristol Channel and ends at Porthcawl in South Wales, so if you want to complete the last 50 miles you will need to be a strong swimmer.

We hope you enjoy the trip, even if only from the comfort of your armchair, and will raise a glass with us to the continued existence of great pubs in hard times.

Disclaimer

This book is a compilation of the Daily Telegraph’s ‘Pint to Pint’ columns, 2013–2015. We have contacted the pubs included to ensure that they are still in business and that no substantial changes have been made since their entry first appeared. We have not updated details of beer range, menus, prices, staff or licensees (with a few exceptions as noted). These were correct at the time the article originally appeared, but should be used for guidance only.

Neither the publisher nor Telegraph Group Ltd shall be liable or responsible for any loss or damage allegedly arising from any information contained in this book.

Don’t drink and drive!

Pint to Pint: The Pub Crawl

South-West England

The Marisco Tavern

Lundy Island

Unsullied by the accoutrements of modern life, the Marisco Tavern is the sort of pub I fantasise about. Quiet, with a traditional but unique interior; no fruit machines, no music and no mobiles, tablets, laptops or gadgets of any kind, thanks to a ban that even someone as attached to their smartphone as I am will revel in.

Drinkers have spent some two hours crossing the Bristol Channel to get to Lundy, and another good half-hour climbing the steep road to the pub. By then they will have dropped back a gear or two to join the pace of island life. They do not want, nor need, to be bothered by the demands of email, texts, social media or other trivialities that detract from life’s simpler pleasures – a pint of beer, chatting with your spouse, sharing time with friends or gazing at stunning views out to sea.

Remarkably for a remote island pub, there are three cask ales from which to choose. I order two pints of St Austell Black Prince (4%), a delicious creamy, chocolatey dark mild that is a rarity on the mainland. It is cool and perfectly kept. The Old Light ale (4.2%) is in similarly tip-top condition. Much later in the day, I’m tempted by a rum menu which boasts such gems as Pusser’s Aged 15 Years and Mount Gay, of which the bartender unflinchingly inquires, ‘Do you want it straight?’

The nautical decor includes an alarming collection of lifebelts bearing the name of ships wrecked on Lundy’s shores, and the date they met their fate. The floor is made of slabs of granite from the island’s quarries. Like all the best pubs there is a variety of seating: a long table for large groups or convivial eating, traditional tables and chairs and cosy benched booths with sea views. It even has a mezzanine. Not that it is so pretentious as to call it that.

Whether you’ve walked directly from the landing place or been for a yomp around the island you’re bound to have worked up an appetite. The Tavern’s menu ranges from cheesy chips (the perfect lunch when arriving during winter – the helicopter drops you off almost at the pub door) via baguettes and jacket potatoes through to seasonally changing dishes prepared from an impressive range of meat reared on the island (prices vary but mains start at £8.20). Lundy lamb is among the leanest you’ll come across; Soay sheep are also resident, their meat is darker, gamier and full-flavoured thanks to a diet of turf and aromatic plants; venison is from the Sika deer population and Lundy pork sausages are available thanks to pigs imported as part of a sustainable waste-management programme.

The Marisco is a microcosm of Lundy’s character. An island out of time, nobly resisting those elements of the 21st century it sees no point in; a genuine respite from the rat race.

Sophie Atherton, 17 August 2013

High Street, Lundy Island, Bristol Channel EX39 2LY (01237 431831); landmarktrust.org.uk/Lundyisland; opening times vary with the boat/helicopter timetable

The Minerva Inn

Plymouth

The sign at the door is a testament to the Minerva Inn’s history: ‘Home to the Press Gang’ says the proud white lettering. For this tiny Plymouth pub was once the place where unfortunate souls had the king’s shilling slipped into their pints, then found themselves huckled through a secret passage and ‘impressed’ on to a Royal Navy ship waiting on the nearby Barbican dockside.

Established somewhere around 1540, the Min claims to be the pilgrim city’s oldest hostelry. It lies a short stroll from the Barbican, on a steeply graded cobbled street which was once home to Sir Francis Drake (he is said to have quaffed a gallon at the Minerva after defeating the Armada). An exquisite stained-glass depiction of a helmeted Minerva (the Roman goddess of wisdom) on the pub’s one window is a relic from the time it was owned by the Octagon Brewery. The pub’s hanging signage features an owl and refers to Hegel’s idea that you only apprehend the historical moment you’re living through as it comes to a close: ‘The owl of Minerva spreads its wings only with the falling of the dusk.’ Classy.

It can be a squeeze to get through the Min’s skinny and low-ceilinged space to the bar; and you might need to breathe in just that little bit more if you’re seeking refuge in the snug at the back bar – with its large open fire, sofas and artefacts relating to the pub’s history. Originally the home of an Elizabethan sea captain, the Minerva was built using timber reclaimed from galleons belonging to the vanquished Armada. Part of one of the ship’s spars forms the core of a spiral staircase.

Until recently, the ceiling was covered in the signatures of celebrities, servicemen and your ordinary punter, but local health and safety officials proclaimed the paint a fire hazard and ordered that it all be covered in something more flame retardant. But the tradition has started all over again.

On a Saturday afternoon there’s a crowd of ex-Royal Navy guys who are a wee bit boisterous, but we can still chat quietly and try some of the ales: regulars Doom Bar and Tribute Cornish Pale Ale and guests including Camerons IPA, Dartmoor IPA and Hoppy Days from Devon’s Bays – a does-what-it-says-on-the-tin short-time brew using green hops. Old Rosie, a honeyed, cloudy, unfiltered scrumpyish cider is a joy.

An enthusiastic local at the bar shows me a chink in the wall that is said to be part of the smuggling tunnel, and a peephole they say was used by the Press Gang to spot their prey coming. He sips a little more of his pint then whispers as he tells me of the time he nodded a hello to a man passing his back. ‘I never believed in ghosts, but I saw the man pass. The bartender didn’t,’ he explains. ‘Obviously it hasn’t stopped me coming back.’

Audrey Gillan, 28 December 2013

31 Looe St, Plymouth PL4 0EA (01752 223047); www.minervainn.co.uk

The Hyde Park Microbrewery

Plymouth

In the midst of swirling traffic, in a not entirely auspicious part of the city, is one of Plymouth’s oldest pubs. It doesn’t have an award-winning heritage interior or a Michelin-starred chef but it does have something more important: charisma. Crossing the threshold, I feel a little like the Doctor stepping out of the Tardis.

It seems I’ve been transported to the pleasant, cosy dinginess of a traditional Eighties pub, before the marketing men rebranded them and brought in silly names. The walls and shelves are full of ‘breweriana’ celebrating the good, the bad and the ugly of the industry’s history. You can even get a pint of Double Diamond or Watney’s Red Barrel (but, now as then, why would you, especially since there is a microbrewery on site and a decent selection of other local cask ales at the bar?).

I order a pint of the pub’s own Made in Mutley (4.8%), keenly priced at £2.50. It’s a light floral bitter with a pleasant biscuity aftertaste. Other cask ales are £3.50 a pint and include the seemingly ubiquitous Sharp’s Doom Bar, as well as several beers from Dartmoor Brewery, including its rather underrated, but very good, IPA.

The time-warp theme continues on screens, dotted around the bar, showing adverts from the Seventies and Eighties. A youthful, long-haired Terry Wogan advertises Currys; people are putting tigers in their tanks and a woman in a hazy field of poppies takes a break from her watercolour painting for a flaky bar of chocolate.

It all adds to the pleasing sense of nostalgia inside the Hyde Park and makes me glad the pub was saved from being turned into an estate agent’s office. It was listed as an Asset of Community Value after hundreds of locals signed a petition, and has been reinvigorated as a thriving boozer.

Thankfully, its retro theme doesn’t extend to the food. Instead there’s an extensive menu that owes more to American diners than it does to that Eighties staple chicken in a basket. There is everything from nachos and flatbreads, through burgers and pub classics such as bangers and mash, lasagne or pie and chips, with dozens of other options in between. Prices range from £3.95 for nachos to £12.95 for a mixed grill with sausages, gammon and steak from a local butchers. I opt for a tuna mayo sandwich and, too late, wish I had added a half pint of potatoes – a glorious stack of chips served in a beer mug (£1.50 for a half, £2.75 a pint).

The coming of craft beer seems to have brought with it a trend for hard seats that even the plumpest buttocks find miserable. The Hyde Park’s seating offers a welcome return to tradition – plush and comfy, an ideal place to park your backside while you chat over a pint.

Sophie Atherton, 13 June 2015

88 Mutley Plain, Plymouth PL4 6JG (01752 601446); boutiquecoffeebrands.co.uk/thehydepark

The Cott Inn

Dartington, Devon

The Cott Inn slumps on a gentle slope, in a spruced-up hamlet just across the river from Dartington Hall, site of the Telegraph Ways With Words festival. It is elongated, cyclopean and slightly wonky, like a sleeping dinosaur. It has been open for trade since the 14th century, but the obligatory markers of antiquity – two inglenooks, copper pans, high-backed settles at every turn – are offset with little contemporary touches.

So those settles, which might easily induce a certain tenor of sobriety (they are more suited to adjudicating a witch trial than kicking back to enjoy a jazz set with a pint of real ale), are lightly strewn with Orla Kielyesque cushions; and there are sparsely elegant flower arrangements in random bits of repurposed glassware on the tables.

Nevertheless, it is as the Platonic ideal of a venerable country pub that the Cott commends itself. It is made from impeccably traditional materials: the roof is thatch, and at least one wall is cob, a lumpy porridge of clay, straw, blood and other substances.

Two staircases up to a little row of bedrooms on the first floor are set into the thickness of the wall, and have doors at the bottom; using them confers a vaguely swashbuckling feeling, as if you were bursting free from the Château d’If rather than inquiring about the possibility of a full English for the following morning. There is the classic West British outside loo (which gives you a chance to admire a lovely little garden set in front of the pub).

The Cott’s food looked wholesome and expertly prepared, but isn’t particularly fancy or fashionable (sandwiches and fresh local fish at lunchtimes; hearty, traditional dishes and more fish in the evenings); the range of beers by no means as extensive as you’d find in many similar places. But I enjoyed my Denbury Dreamer, brewed either five or six miles away (the testimony of the bar staff varied); and I liked the look of an extensive wine list – though I didn’t happen to notice whether the ‘tonic wine’ made at nearby Buckfast Abbey, such a success in the Scottish market, was on it.

As for atmosphere: well, the night I went, the atmosphere was what you might call ‘jazzy’, Sunday being live music night. For all I know, as a rule the bar is propped up with locals talking about the price of fish or the categorical imperative, or gazing ruminatively at their pints on the counter as if willing them to launch into a square-dance across its surface.

But I can report that it is a beautiful place, friendly and well-run – what’s more, it’s an easy half-hour’s walk along a well-maintained riverside path from Totnes station, through woods and over water meadows, with the smell of the last wild garlic seeping from the damp greenery, and shards of quartz in the granite pebbles on the riverbed winking in the sunlight.

Keith Miller, 5 July 2014

Cott Lane, Dartington, Totnes, Devon TQ9 6HE (01803 863777); cottinn.co.uk

The Steam Packet Inn

Totnes, Devon

The New Age, upbeat spirit of Totnes is always apparent in summer. So we did wonder, flippantly, if the town’s Steam Packet Inn might have a biodynamic wheat juice bar and ambient whale music. But no, just five minutes’ walk from the long hair and rainbow pantaloons of the town centre we were in a different world of warehouse apartments, jolly boats, and a sunny and spacious pub terrace where the genteel (and older) crowd sip their sauv blanc in the sun.

Or, in our case, tackle a pint of refreshing, lemony Red Rock Pilsner made at the eponymous, tiny, four-barrel brewery in Teignmouth. We idled away an afternoon at the pub, half-sunk into huge-cushioned, wickerwork chairs outside on a day of mixed weather with a busy crowd and a few daring seagulls – happily the Steam Packet has a conservatory dining room by the terrace to which rained-on guests can scuttle, clutching their pints, if the heavens open.

The bar itself feels cosier, all dark wood and log fires; that’s where we’d choose to perch in colder months, hands round a glass of the rich and mellow brown Jail Ale, made by the Dartmoor Brewery and available on draft here. A packet boat originally carried mail packets to British embassies and colonies; later the name simply meant a scheduled ship. We saw no larger ships this time, but the pub is clearly referencing its boaty setting at the estuary of the Dart river. It has four bedrooms above the bar which must prove popular with those seeking out the peaceful end of town during the Devon holiday season.

Beers and ciders are chalked up on a blackboard. We played with food matching, pairing Old Mills’ Blonde Bombshell, a fruity pale barley malt, with crispy fried Brixham squid pieces dipped in delicious lime mayo, and loved a juicy, local Ashridge medium-dry cider with smoked haddock and chorizo fishcakes and a red pepper salsa.

Wines are not as inspiring as the beers and ciders, though they serve decent Provençal rosé, a snappy Picpoul de Pinet, and for those celebrating in style, both Taittinger and Laurent-Perrier from the grandes marques Champagne houses.

Desserts are notably good – Jude’s Dairy ice creams and sorbets, a sublime, light, passionfruit bavarois and a richly flavoured, salted-caramel chocolate brownie. We dived indoors with them as the rain finally fell, finding not exactly a holistic retreat, but sanctuary in the conservatory bar.

Susy Atkins, 11 July 2015

St Peter’s Quay, Totnes, Devon TQ9 5EW (01803 863880); steampacketinn.co.uk

The Masons Arms

Branscombe Village, Devon

It’s thirsty work, the South West Coastal Path. Hours spent trudging into the wind on Portland, scrambling along Chesil Beach, fossicking at Lyme Regis, battling horsetails in the Lyme Undercliffs and trying to work out why they wrote the guidebook from west to east left us footsore and weary, beset by needs that only the frequent admixture of beer and salty snacks could assuage.

Many candidates for inclusion in this column suggested themselves: the Anchor in Beer was one, for obvious reasons. However, a rigorous application of Pint to Pint’s exacting standards led to several deserving boozers (the Crown in Punchknowle – pron. ‘Punnle’ – and the Smugglers near Dawlish) being winnowed out in the qualifying rounds.

In the knockout stages, our selection criteria became more subjective. Dodgy typography disqualified one or two entries (the traditional Roman and Gothic signage of the country pub is under threat from modish sans-serif ‘Keep Calm And Carry On’-type interlopers, while the judges felt the free-spirited nature of the West Country was too freely reflected by the use of Papyrus, a font better suited to a tanning salon in Essex than a half-timbered hostelry on the Devon–Dorset border).

More serious, and more difficult to arbitrate, was the perennial pub/restaurant issue. Many of these places draw most of their prosperity from food, and very nicely some of them do it, too. But where do you draw the line? At the Masons Arms, a thatched longhouse of unimpeachable prettiness a mile or so in from the coast, the answer is roughly halfway along the building.

Go left as you enter, and you’re in a dining area that retains a certain pubby ambience (rough whitewashed walls, huge inglenook fireplace, brass rubbings over the bar, etc.) but where tables are set for eating delicious fresh fish and hearty pies, burgers and the like. To the right lies the ‘Old Worthies Bar’, a more authentically pub-like space (right down to the nacreous Turkish carpet), where, nevertheless, food is available.

Not being especially worthy, we sat in the food bit, but were delighted to find that the Masons is now owned by the St Austell Brewery, whose Proper Job, an aromatic and fruity beer, is on draught, alongside a plausible though not especially wide-ranging selection. It’s a delicious and versatile pint and, despite its very West Country name, ought to be available more widely.

Too tired to see straight, we didn’t get the most out of the Masons’ chocolate-box beauty or rich historical hinterland (actual masons used to work here, dressing golden stone blocks for use on Exeter cathedral). But we did clock the circular thatch hats on tables outside, rustling in the spring breeze, imparting a vaguely, incongruously tropical air.

Keith Miller, 11 April 2015

Branscombe Village, Devon EX12 3DJ (01297 680300); masonsarms.co.uk

The Bell Inn

Watchet, Somerset

Stand outside The Bell Inn on the third Wednesday of each month and, if you shut your eyes, you could be back in the 18th century.

The salty tang of the sea air, the gentle lapping of the water against the hulls of moored ships, and from inside the tavern, the sound of ancient sea shanties accompanied by fiddle and mandolin.

All that’s needed is the stomp of a peg-legged pirate, and you could imagine you were a character in the opening chapter of a swashbuckling Treasure Island adventure. Or at least an episode of Captain Pugwash.

Even the resident ales have nautical, pieces-of-eight names: there’s doubloon-coloured Tribute (4.2%) from the St Austell Brewery in south Cornwall, first brewed to honour an eclipse of the sun; or there’s Sharp’s darker-hued Doom Bar, from Rock in north Cornwall, (4.0%), named after an infamous sandbank at the mouth of the Camel estuary.

It was in this waterside tavern that the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge is said to have begun his epic poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, while walking in the Quantocks with William Wordsworth. These days, beer-drinking bards aren’t perhaps as plentiful as they once were, but the inn’s bookcases are positively awash with stories of old Watchet.

There are picture books showing the town as it used to be: Swain Street, the Cosy Cinema, the Esplanade, the old railway station (closed by Dr Beeching). Not to mention The Illustrated Book of Fishes and a set of Reed’s Nautical Almanacs dating back to the Seventies. There’s even a poem paying tribute to the large number of pubs which once lay scattered hereabouts: ‘A movement very soon begins/ Towards the ever-open inns./ The Greyhound, Ship, the Star as well;/ The Archer, London and The Bell.’

Not that more recent cultural events are overlooked: alongside the historic monochrome photographs on the wall, there’s a framed copy of ‘Something Is Happening’ by Herman’s Hermits.

Christopher Middleton, 12 October 2013

3 Market Street, Watchet, Somerset TA23 0AN (01984 631279); visit-watchet.co.uk/Members_Pages/Bell_Inn

The King Alfred

Burrowbridge, Somerset

On the outdoor terrace at the back of the King Alfred, a couple of local blokes, pints in hand, are watching men and machines at work. You might be forgiven for thinking that this is a case of the ale-drinking work-shy watching the workers, but the contemplation of this duo is more about remembrance.

At the start of the year, standing on the same terrace, you’d have seen nothing but grey, rippling sheets of flood water stretching out across the Somerset Levels. Throughout the crisis the King Alfred acted as a community centre for the surrounding farms and villages.

Now, on a benevolent autumn afternoon, the floods seem far away apart from the chug-chug-chug of the diggers and the presence of the sluggish River Parrett as it wends its way to the sea. I nod to the two men and return to the bar downstairs.

The contrast to the thoughtful situation outside couldn’t be any different. The bar is an elemental place of pews and settles, hardy wooden tables and a tiled floor; it’s lively and noisy, roistering and rollicking as locals, walkers and cyclists chat and caress their glasses of ale and cider.

Framed black-and-white photos of the pub throughout the years line one wall, while the top gantry of the bar is covered with hundreds of pump clips of past beers, a sign that they take their drink seriously here. Live music is also important; details of forthcoming gigs are chalked on a solid wooden beam.

There’s a family of eight in the window: three generations, all tucking into their Yorkshires with gusto.

Meanwhile, at the bar, a middle-aged couple settle themselves on stools and discuss the renovation of a friend’s waterlogged cottage. You can’t get away from the floods that easily.

I catch the warm comforting waft of roast beef in the air as Sunday lunchtime continues on its merry way. The menu is a hearty digest that includes roast topside, home-reared lamb and Wessex free-range pork. From previous experience I know the portions are large. I’m not in the mood for food today, so I elect to sit at the bar and order a glass of Heck’s cider.

‘Which one?’ asks the barmaid, pointing to a chalkboard with details of local ciders on offer. I am told that the one made with Brown’s apples is crisp and tangy, while the Kingston Black variety is soft and slightly sweeter. I opt for the latter: it is smooth, full-bodied and has a dry finish. There are also three local cask beers, but the Heck’s is delicious and having drained my glass I order another and muse on the pub’s lively, likeable nature and raise a glass to its resilience.

The waters might have receded but this lunchtime crowd demonstrates that the pub’s community spirit won’t be forgotten in a rush.

Adrian Tierney-Jones, 18 October 2014

Burrow Drove, Burrowbridge, Bridgwater, Somerset TA7 0RB (01823 698379); king-alfred.co.uk

The Three Horseshoes Inn

Batcombe, Somerset

It’s an ironclad law of rural England that your best bet for finding a pub in a strange village is to head for the church. Beer-pump and pulpit share a long history and Batcombe is no different: the stern and stately tower of St Mary the Virgin overlooks the soft honey-coloured stone of the four centuries-old Three Horseshoes with benign paternalism.

Given that I passed a brace of boarded up pubs in villages within several miles radius of Batcombe, you might think The Three Horseshoes could do with divine protection. Not so. The Almighty can rest easy. This gem of a country pub is doing just fine.

The place looks warm and welcoming from the outside and confirmation comes as you open the door. There’s an inglenook with an open fire on one side and a log-burner on the other, making the place toasty. The décor is restrained rustic with exposed stone walls, a low-beamed ceiling and a smattering of prints.

Landlord Cav Javvi holds court at the bar, dispensing drink and handing out menus with an easy manner. Beers such as Butcombe Bitter and Bath Ales Gem tantalise on the bar-top while local scrumpy and a pleasing selection of wines offer a handsome alternative.

I plump for Wild Beer’s Madness, lovingly crafted in nearby Westcombe. It’s an appetising India Pale Ale with a Carmen Miranda hatful of tropical fruit on the nose colliding passionately with a palate-zinging bitterness. It is mouth-watering; the kind of beer that gets the digestive juices going, which is just as well as The Three Horseshoes also majors in great grub.

I order the smoked chicken, game and leek terrine for starters, followed by a cheddar cheeseburger and skinny chips. The cheese is lush and unctuous as it drapes over the juicy burger. It’s also made in Westcombe, one of only three cheddar cheese-makers to gain the Slow Food seal of approval.

The food style is robust British – great ingredients impeccably cooked. I watched people tuck into beer-battered fish and chips or chomp on a swirl of plump Cumberland sausage, nestled on a mountain of fluffy mash. Home-smoked haddock Florentine offered a lighter option. Local suppliers are used as much as possible, to the extent of reaching out to Batcombe’s allotment addicts. A note on the wall declares: ‘Allotment amnesty – if you have a surplus from your veg patches bring them in and swap for a pint or two.’

With its calm, unfussy décor and its almost evangelical passion for good food, The Three Horseshoes could so easily have become yet another gastro clone. Yet the pub welcomes all and pulls in the locals with its quiz nights and darts. All in all, it serves its congregation well – a cosy ambience, amiable company and good drink and food. Amen to that.

Adrian Tierney-Jones, 2 February 2013

Batcombe, Shepton Mallet, Somerset BA4 6HE (01749 850359); thethreehorseshoesinn.co.uk

The Plough Inn

Congresbury, Somerset

The Plough has flag floors, low-beamed ceilings and smells enticingly of wood smoke from several log fires. There are four or five small rooms, all more or less opened up to the bar – take your pick.

One haven celebrates today’s Mendip Morris Men and their antecedents, with old photographs and a glass case with the full regalia of the Thirties: the hat, the baldrics, the bell pads and rosettes. Another small cosy corner by the bar tends to fill with older folk chin-resting on their walking sticks and putting the world to rights.

There’s a room with its own bar window, but today is Wednesday and this evening there is a skittles match, so all the tables are reserved.

The pub is almost full, abuzz with conversation and laughter, and it’s only 7.30pm. I hear a few cut glarse accents, some rolling Zummerzet burrs, and a lot in between; an ecumenical mix.

The visiting skittles team are called ‘The Townies’ and apparently they all drink lager. ‘That’s all right,’ says Garry Polledri, the landlord, ‘we’ve got a couple of lagers on tap, so they’ll be happy enough. But this is a real ale pub.’

Indeed it is. There are half a dozen barrels at the back of the bar – the beers are served straight from the barrel. It’s all south-western stuff. I spot St Austell’s Tribute from Cornwall, Yeovil Brewery’s Summerset, Palmer’s Dorset Gold, Twisted Oak’s Fallen Tree, and Butcombe’s Bohemia. These last two breweries are in the same village, Wrington, just up the road.

A menu announces all sorts of seasonal goodies – game pie, pheasant and suchlike – but there are other names on the list that are hallowed to me, such as calves’ liver, faggots, bubble and squeak, mushy peas, chips fried in beef fat.

I go for the faggots, which come with delicious onion gravy, chips, peas and a salad. It all sets me back £7.95 and there’s so much on the plate that I can’t finish it. Twisted Oak’s Falling Tree, an amber beer at 3.8% with a surprising hop kick at the end, goes well with the meal.

Now to the skittles. This is the game played on a small table, with a ball on the end of a light chain. The skills on display are amazing – not just the players but also the scorers, who have to do the lightning maths on the chalkboard.

The chat, the jokes, the special lore and language of the game are wonderful. The beers flow. I try quite a few – they’re all good. No notes, I’m afraid. Ho hum.

‘What happens here in summer?’ I ask. ‘Ah,’ says Garry, ‘we have sixteen petanque teams who play out back – you should really come and see.’ Do you know, I think I might just do that.

Arthur Taylor, 22 November 2014

High Street, Congresbury, Somerset BS49 5JA (01934 877402); the-plough-inn.net

The Orchard Inn

Bristol

Hanging on the wall of The Orchard Inn is a photograph of the pub as it was in 1851: a small, unprepossessing, box-shaped building, the last in a terrace which ends rather abruptly.

It’s the kind of place which might long ago have been bulldozed to the ground. Yet apart from the fact it used to be called The White Horse, the pub looks practically the same as it did 160 years ago.

The change of name is, however, significant. For what makes the Orchard stand out from its more comely counterparts is the fact that it serves not just one, not just two, but 23 different ciders.

Yes, there’s no question what drink most appeals to the Orchard’s core clientele. Just reading the chalked list is like taking a tour of the West Country, each with its own potted biography, plus wooziness rating (between 6% and 7% ABV).

There are board games in the bookcase (Monopoly, Mid-Life Crisis, Trivial Pursuit), and cheery characters at the bar; among them, white-bearded Mick the Boat.

‘Have the Surfin’ Turnips,’ he suggests. ‘That’s my favourite cider.’

‘Pay no attention,’ says Des the barmaid. ‘Have what you like.’