The Bitter End - July 2011

 

When I was a little girl I loved colour pencils, in particular “Derwent” brand colour pencil sets.  One Christmas, I asked for and received a box of 72 which was the most colours you could get in a set.  Most people only had sets of 12 or 24.  The box of 72 was pretty special even though I only used about six of them – the bright pinks, blues and purples.  The more mundane colours weren’t so popular.

When I was 14, I was lucky enough to be taken on a 6-month tour of Europe, which included the North of England.  I remember wanting to go to the Cumberland Pencil Company (makers of Derwents) to do a tour of the factory.  Unfortunately, when we arrived it was closed.  I must have been pretty disappointed because I can still remember the time.

So, when Neil and I decided to go to Cumbria for an overnight trip, I decided we had to go to Keswick and to the Cumberland Pencil Factory.  It turns out that when Neil was a lad, he loved “Derwents” too, although he only had a set of 12 and admitted to severe pencil envy of anyone who had a set of 72.  Arriving in Keswick, we found that the Cumberland Pencil Factory, while it is still in existence, was no longer in Keswick but in its place was a Pencil Museum!  Being the nerds we are, we spent hours discovering how coloured pencils are made, and we thoroughly enjoyed it; more “Derwents” than we had ever seen!

Of course, we also tested out a few pubs along the way….

The Bitter End is in the interestingly named town of Cockermouth.  Like the name implies it’s at the mouth of the Cocker River.  It is also famous for being where Wordsworth and Fletcher Christian were educated. The pub is off the main road opposite one of the many Churches. Very pleasant inside; not too Olde Worlde but comfortable and small with a nice atmosphere.  I imagine it would be a great pub after a long winter’s day of trekking in the nearby hills.

The Pub has its own brewery “The Bitter End Brewery” as well as serving Jennings Cumberland Ale, which is the local Cumbrian beer.  The Bitter End Brewery beers are: Lakeland bitter; Lakeland Golden and Lakeland Honey.  Neil was obligingly given a taste of all of them and settled on the Lakeland Golden, which he seemed to enjoy immensely as he had sworn off beer since drinking to excess in the US of A.  The lagers were Peroni, Becks and Fosters.  No Guinness!  There was a small selection of wines by the glass, mainly European and Sth. American.

For dinner, I chose Cumberland sausage with mash, which came with sweet onion marmalade.  Neil chose fish and chips but substituted the mushy peas for regular peas.  Why you would want to mush peas and present them for eating is beyond our understanding.  We were very impressed with the food; it was delicious and served steaming hot with a side of vegetables, enough for both of us.

I would highly recommend the Lakes District to visit, even if you aren’t obsessed with pencils.  The scenery is picture perfect and if you need a good meal, a nice beer and a pleasant evening, look no further than The Bitter End.

Applejack Diner: June 2011

Early Sunday morning; Midtown Manhattan; Broadway & 55^th; Applejack Diner; no better place to be!  Order coffee & pancakes; add some turkey bacon rashers, even if you are a closet vegetarian and you are set for the rest of the day.

Coffee is coffee at a New York Dinner; good, hot & strong and plenty of it.  No decisions need to be made for a Flat White; a Latte; a Cappuccino; full milk; skinny milk; cup; mug, etc etc etc and all the other pretentious nonsense needed when ordering a coffee in Auckland, Melbourne or even London. 

Why can’t we just ask for coffee and get coffee in other parts of the world; in fact you don’t even have to ask for it in New York, it just arrives.  In a New York Dinner, coffee is coffee; common coffee, socialist coffee in the midst of a den of capitalism.  Who was responsible for the pretentious nonsense of forcing people to make nebulous early morning decisions about the type of coffee they want to drink.  I bet it was those marketing people that invade our lives.  In New York, finding a large, skinny, soy latte in a mug is as rare as a copy of “Das Kapital” in a corporate library (unless you go to Starbucks).  Drinkers should control the means of consumption. 

I’m going to move to Manhattan and live above the Applejack Diner, just so I don’t have to make a decision in the early morning about what sort of coffee I want to drink.  The only decision needed at the Applejack Dinner is how much maple syrup you can be bothered to pour on your pancakes.

If you are walking home along Broadway after a big night out, walk up to 55^th and take a seat at the Applejack Diner; you wont regret it and it’s open 24hrs a day, 7 days a week.

Raffles Hotel

I hadn’t seen Suzy for three weeks but chanced upon her in Singapore; she going one way, me the other.  So, when in Singapore where should one seek a cleansing ale and convivial entertainment, why Raffles of course!

Located within an easy walk of our Hotel (thanks Qantas) Raffles requires no explanation, suffice to say that the thirties are alive and well within its walls and even some of the patrons appear to have been there for just as long.  No doubt musing about life over a Singapore Sling or three.

We loved the motorized Punkawallah in the Long Bar (at least I assumed it was motorized; I didn’t see any Wallahs); every home should have one.

The astute reader will note that absence of glassware on our table; that’s because we are still budget travellers and drinks are half the price across the road in the food court!  Still, it was let’s pretend for a while.  Should we ever have an expansive budget, then a week or two at Raffles would be a delight.  Raffles is not a Hotel it is an institution and we wouldn’t mind being institutionalized there at all.

The (Royal) George

This Public House is located about as far away as you can get from Bourne End.  In fact, if you keep going in the same direction as you did to get to “The George” from Bourne End, you would get back to where you started from and it would be the same distance (almost).  Yes, “The George” is located in the Antipodes and on a recent trip home, we could not help but stop by for a cleansing ale or three.

“The George”, or The Royal George if you want to stand on ceremony, purports an eclectic mix of Australian colonial architecture, urban gastronomy & country hospitality; R.M.Williams meets Jamie Oliver.  However, according to “Your Restaurant Guide” – The Royal George Hotel, a remnant from Ballarat’s Gold Rush era, was little more than a dank drinking hole until two years ago”.  We have taken umbrage to that statement as we have enjoyed ourselves at this establishment for many years on visits to Kyneton and didn’t find it dank at all; a drinking hole it might have been but that was part of it’s charm.

However, it has recently undergone a second refurbished and it is now under new ownership.  Nevertheless, we looked forward to revelling in the 30 degrees heat, drinking ice cold beer and eating the local food.

We arrived and had a round of pricey drinks and considered the menu.  Unfortunately, there was more Ritz than Jamie Oliver in the food and drink prices and we decided to search elsewhere in Kyneton for that country hospitality; there is a wide choice.  The fact that Mike’s arm rest came away from his chair (still broken 3 months later - ed) and the dining room hung with assorted electrical wiring yet to be affixed, must have meant that the food would be outstanding, as way of compensation; we had no burning desire to find out.  No tap beer, just bottles which we thought was an unnecessary piece of pomp & circumstance.  Looks can be deceiving; this is not a country pub anymore but a venue for visiting gourmands from the City and good luck to them.  The lone diners in the restaurant and their shiny Bentley out the front said it all. 

12000 miles is a long way to travel for the pleasure of dining at the newly refurbished “George” and we are yet to do so; we will when they fix the chairs & the wiring and return some of that country hospitality.  However, I did like the AGA in the back bar; a touch of English country kitchen, Jamie Oliver style.

The Flower Pot

We were swapping pub stories over Christmas lunch and Chris suggested we visit “The Flower Pot” in a village called Aston!  (Suzy’s family name).  According to Google Earth; “Aston is a hamlet near the Berkshire bank of the River Thames.  There is a charming old fashioned pub called 'The Flower Pot Hotel' in Ferry Lane which has a slightly unnerving collection of stuffed & mounted prize freshwater fish caught locally in the River (sic)” With a recommendation and a write up like that, we decided to drive over and have a drink or three and spot of lunch.
 

However, we arrived at the same time as a load of Ramblers ( ie elderly people dressed in anoraks & big boots often found hiking the walking paths or sitting in pubs and known for their militancy) who charged in and immediately lined up single file at the bar; the line stretching out the front door.  With only one barman taking drinks & food orders; it was a thirsty time for me waiting in line to have our order taken.  When in Rome…  I could see the funny side and was tempted to take a photo.  I wondered how they would fare if they wanted to get a drink at the RNZYS bar after Wednesday night racing.  Served us right for going to the pub on a Monday when we should have been at work like everybody else.

Food was classic pub food at London prices plus specials.  The food was OK to good; tasty but small portions for the price although Suzy had ribs (again) which turned into a case of “Olhos são maiores que estômago”.  (translate this Tammy!)  Lots of desserts including Spotted Dick which Neil was tempted to try but being unsure of it’s ingredients, selected sticky date pudding instead.  The Pub is a Brakspears Pub so plenty of Brakspears variety and including:  Wychwood Hobgoblin, a malty taste; Brakspears Bitter; Brakspears ”Oh to be Joyful” & Ringwood New Forest.  The standard lagers were available:  Guinness, Stella, San Miguel, Fosters, Gold cider, Carling.

Plenty of stuffed animals and fish on the walls including a can of Tuna in a glass case; presumable not stuffed.  We thought this was just there so some unsuspecting tourists like us would ask the publican why they had a can of tuna in a glass case on the wall; but we didn’t.  We did manage to find a live specie of animal in the Pub but it didn’t look particularly happy; perhaps it could see its future, up on the wall.  There was a proper fire place burning proper logs the size of tree trunks.

The “Flower Pot” has a large beer garden where on a sunny summer Saturday afternoon would be heaving with people.  Fire up that GT6 Chris, when we get a sunny day and we’ll meet you there!  The river is just down the road and the pub has a wharf that may just fit “Antiope”; although it would be a disappointed person that was balloted for the essential anchor watch.

The Walnut Tree

“It was a dark & stormy night”; not quite; it was broad daylight but we had had a heavy snow storm the day before and been stuck in the house for most of the morning.  A frozen & then burst water main had shut off the village water supply and panic buying at the village grocery store had resulting in only a few tins of SPAM and some stale crumpets left on the shelves.  Suzy expected to go to work but thanks to the sterling efforts of the BAA to remove snow at LHR, was told by QF to stay at home for a further four days.  Consequently, we did what any self respecting Aussies would do; donned all the warm clothes we possessed and headed off under a faltering sky to the pub for an afternoon of cabin fever suppressant.

“The Walnut Tree” is actually just up the road from our place in Bourne End and we could have run there in our underpants but given that the wind chill was about -8c, that idea could have resulted in serious consequences; (& we are not that sort of people).  Once there, we had to substantially disrobe anyway as the inside temp was more than warm & toasty, but very welcome none the less.

The pub is quite old, probably dating from the time of Cromwell & his merry men.  The current décor is a mix of your Grandmothers lounge room and a Transport Café; at least the fire was roaring and a real wood fire at that, and not a forest in sight (see “The Feather”). 

We were the only people in the place, as it was before midday, but at least it was open for business (see “The Feather”).  At the appointed hour, the place suddenly filled with locals, no doubt all having had a similar idea (ie they didn’t like SPAM & crumpets either) or it could have just been the Rugby broadcast live on the big screen in the bar.(we had no idea who was playing but it wasn’t Australia and/or New Zealand).

There was a range of pub food available and it all looked pretty good.  We went for the BLT toasted sandwiches; I forewent my vegetarian principles, yet again, for some animal protein to ward of the cold.  The pub is a tied House ie not a Free House, so the range of ales was limited or so I understand the way it is with English Public Houses.  Consequently, the following are available; Bitter beers: Abbotts; St Edmonds Light Ale; Green King IPA and lagers; the ubiquitous Fosters; Stella & Becks all on tap or in bottles and also Guinness and Strongbow Cider.

I made the mistake of ordering drinks at the bar in an Australian accent and was immediately inundated with questions about where I came from & what I was doing in Bourne End; all in the nicest possible way of course.  We had a number of lively discussions with fellow patrons about innumerable subjects and by that time it was 3.30pm in the evening; (we knew it was the evening because the sun had set) so we made our way back to the house dressed like polar explorers as the pale streetlights reflected off the glistening ice & snow.  The water was back on, but no sign of any food delivery trucks.  We will be back there soon, it’s a pleasant place to be.

The Feathers

“Did you arrive by car or are you just a walk up” the barman asked us as we stomped into the Public House looking cold and all in mud covered boots.  “People who arrive by car usually make a reservation”, said the barman without any prompting from us.  Not understanding the logic we meekly requested a table anyway and were shown a pleasant setting in a sunny nook away from the fire side.  It was a sunny day, at last, after a week of snow and ice and we welcomed the pale warmth of the sun.  Unfortunately the open fire wasn’t lit; “we’ve run out of wood” explained the barman.  Further unfathomable logic as this PH is located on the edge of an expansive forest.

Suzy & I with my brother Kim (in London for the weekend) had trudged up the hill from Bourne End through frozen paddocks and pathways strewn with fallen leaves.  We had arrived a little early, midday being the appointed hour of opening.  Seeing the lights on but nobody home, we peered through the small framed windows and a face peered back with an accompanying gesticulating finger which we understood to mean; “kindly take a seat in the comfortable outdoor furniture we have graciously provided and we will open shortly”.  We did as suggested and at a few moments to 1200hrs, the car park suddenly filled and the persons who had “arrived by car”, and they all filed inside.  By the time we got organised and got in the door, the place was full to overflowing.

We ordered drinks and then food after I had read the papers and Suzy & Kim explored the rest of the pub.  The food came promptly and was excellent, if significantly overpriced, in our view.  Suzy & Kim had Ham Hock terrine with piccalilli and I had a tasty Parsnip soup with crusty bread.  The bar is a large oak construction with carved features and with a brass top.  Bitter beer served is Rebellion Smuggler, Rebellion IPA, London Pride and lagers are; Heineken, Becks, Peroni, Bulmers Cider and of course Guinness.  We noted that a bottle of Stoneleigh pinot was selling for £18.95 (NZ$39.70)!

The Feathers PH is located opposite the main gate of Cliveden, the stately home frequented by Christine Keeler & Mandy Rice-Davies in the days of yore, and who were among the main players in the “Profumo Affair”, a real life MI5 espionage scandal from the sixties; not that that has any relevance on the current quality of the ale or food; and is about as relevant as Enid Blyton living next door to the Spade Oak (and you always wondered where she got her inspiration from).

In retaliation for the barman’s supercilious attitude upon our arrival, Kim told him that he had blocked the loo (no malice intended, must have been the Qantas food).  The barman received this important piece of information with the disdain it deserved and we promptly left after paying.

The Feathers is a comfortable but pricey (for us) PH with an expansive outdoor area.  It also has a pleasant upstairs area provided you remained seated or are very short.  There are a few really nice nooks scattered throughout.  This PH would be perfect on a warm summers afternoon and we must go back there (if they’ll let us in) when we can afford it, or somebody we know turns up with an expense account.

The Ship Inn

Successive Spencers from various corners of the world have reminisced with each other and slaked their thirst in this Public House in Porthleven Cornwall, since the early 60’s.  The ceiling in the bar used to be covered in ancient fiscal paper.  I searched in vain for a $A1 dollars note I stuck on the ceiling in the early 80’s, but unfortunately much of the historic collection of paper money has recently been removed, no doubt to go to a worthwhile local cause.  

Getting to the Ship Inn is an adventure.  In a raging south westerly storm, it’s quite a scramble along the sea wall to get to the pubs alternative and sheltered entrance, the main entrance being firmly secured against wind & waves, for good reason.  Windows at the front of the building have been stoved-in by waves.  Getting back along the sea wall to the shelter of the village, in similar conditions after a few beers, is positively life threatening.  Sadly, some haven’t made it and have been lost.  In the 1989 storm surge, I saw waves breaking over the Institute clock tower.  Not for nothing is the inner harbour entrance protected by storm boards the size of barn doors, stored on the harbour wall and able to be craned in place as the weather & high tide threatens.

Nevertheless, it was a fine evening when six of us, a mix of friends & relatives turned up for dinner and an ale or three.  We went in the front door.  It was crowded as usual and we had trouble finding a table for all of us but after a bit of negotiation with some fellow imbibers, we accommodated ourselves in a comfortable corner spot near the open fire (which hadn’t been lit yet).  The pub is never deserted regardless of the weather conditions and once safely inside there is no better place for a beer and a feed.  The interior is quite small with a number of small spaces connected by the bar.  Service is always cheery and one is never in a hurry to leave.

I had a warming bowl of broth followed by a veg. lasagne.  Suzy had real lasagne, as did the others; there is a wide range of excellent food available and not all fish dishes.

We had recorded the type & variety of beer etc that was available but Suzy accidently deleted the info from her iPhone (wots wrong with pencil & paper).  Anyway, this PH is an institution to the Spencers and a Free House so what is available now probably wont be in the future unless it’s well worth drinking.  I will be returning here for the next thirty years as I have for the past thirty; by that time I probable wont be able to make a run for it along the sea wall in those SW busters.

(thanks Mark for the use of the wave picture)

The Garibaldi

The Garibaldi is in Hedsor which is a short walk from our house, either along the road out of Bourne End or across some muddy fields.  Apart from the pub, Hedsor has a community hall and a huge garden/food/gift centre called Flowerland; there are a few houses.

Since it's not on the main road and pubs close down all the time here, we thought we should give it our custom.  We had been here once before, but they had run out of Guinness and also had a power outage, so it wasn't a great visit and we thought we would give it a second chance, this time for lunch; and what better time than a wet and miserable Friday afternoon.

The building is about 200 years old.  It's pretty small inside but cosy with the typical low ceiling and some comfy sofas. Traditional pub food is served and of course Sunday roast. I had scampi and chips and Neil had chicken soup. It wasn't exactly haute cuisine but the price was right.

Not a huge choice of wines available but I had a passable Pinot Gris. Lagers are Fosters, San Miguel and 1664. Bitters are Abbotts, London Pride, Adnams and Doon Bar is to come. They also have Strongbow cider on tap.

Friendly proprieters who encouraged us to come to the quiz night (Thursdays) which we jmay just do one day. All in all a very pleasant place to spend a wet Friday afternoon.

The Old Success Inn

“It’s a bit gloomy”, I was told, referring to the only pub in town.  Suzy was stuck in Singapore so I ventured alone to Sennen Cove in Cornwall and what better way to while away a cold & windy Saturday night than with an ale or three and catch up with old friends in a warm pub.

Sennen Cove is within walking distance of Lands End with all the inherent windswept ruggedness of the landscape and the local inhabitants.  Legend has it that many years ago, Sennen Cove was a poor & isolated fishing village, surviving on pilchards & mackerel and some would say wrecking & scavenging; that quaint Cornish custom of lighting false signal fires on the headlands to deliberately drive sailing ships onto the nearby reefs & shoals , then rowing out and nicking anything of value.  The locals would then celebrate their “success” back at the pub.  (It is not recorded if the pub also welcomed the shipwreck survivors).  The other version of the legend refers to the success of catching a boat load of fish, but why let the truth get in the way of a good story.

The pub, the village and the people now seem strangely at odds with the new surfing culture sweeping Cornish beaches; (apparently started by some Australians) with Sennen Cove subjected to ski-lodge type buildings & a large sea side carpark; but I went into the pub anyway as it was almost next door to my lodgings.  Drinks were at London prices (they don’t get many shipwrecks these days); service was immediate as there were few people there even at 1900 on a Saturday night and the food appeared unremarkable with a lot of fish dishes.  Apparently it’s heaving with surfers and live music on a Saturday night in summer.

I didn’t eat at the pub as the offer of home cooked Shepherd’s Pie, back at the house, was too appealing, even for a closet vegetarian.  Larger Beers available are Carlsberg, San Miguel, Carlsberg Export with Bitter Beers: Tribute, Tinners; HSD, Guinness.  Blackthorn Cider & Cornish Rattler if you like apples in your drink.  Wine on tap from Australian, Sth African & Californian vineyards gave Chateau Cardboard a whole new meaning.

With all the history, I thought this Public House unremarkable, although a pleasant enough place when the Cornish weather is blowing dogs off chains.