A tun of fun

Pub 33. The One Tun, 7th March 2012.

Saffron Hill used to be main north  / south thorough-fare round here before the wonderous Fleet was wickedly covered over, and the Farringdon Road was created. It was a very dodgy area by all accounts, so I'm sure many an interesting character has had many an interesting time in The One Tun in its long history.  But I must admit from the outside it does a bit plain, smart but plain. I was expecting a comfy, modernised identi-kit central London pub, like so many more. Bar-staff in smart black shirts and name-badges, and not really wanting to be there. Beer battered fish, and 'famous' pies, Greene King IPA and all that. Not bad things, but very common. So in I went ... and oh! What a lovely surprise.

What a lovely, cosy, airy, unpretentious boozer. They had music on - but it was very quiet and it was the Top 100 soft-love-ballads on VH1 or something like that. Not at all intrusive, so we'll let them off there. The furnishings were how I like it, soft chairs & banquettes, proper pub tables of the sort that are designed for socialising rather eating. Carpet! Wallpaper! AND wood panels! A trendy-design-advocate would probably have a heart-attack, but this is exactly what is required from a pub. Pubs should never be trendy. Trendy is an awful thing. Short-sighted. Daft. Trends by definition don't last. This pub is real. It should last.

Bar puzzling

Comfy

So to the bar, and some important drinking of fine ale - which is what a pub like this is all about. The bar area is wonderfully cluttered with souviners and knick-knacks, giving a nice personal touch. And above is a beautiful illuminated pub sign. I like that font! The choice was good - four ales to choose from... I forget which tho. They all looked good if I remember rightly. I went for a glass of  Cumberland Ale at 4% for £1.65. Very decent it was. By the door to a very secluded beer garden (or should they be 'smoking' gardens now?) there is a corner dedicated to photos of locals and punters and general good pub times. A good sign of a good pub that values its customers - and knows what a pub is about.

Pub people

Round the corner

On the wall opposite the bar they had lists of all the Prime Ministers since the pub opened, and also our Monarchs. But most interestingly they'd also put up a list of all the publicans that had been there. Fascinating stuff! I did notice that the current tenants are by far the longest serving - 20 years this year. I think the landlady spotted me looking at it, so I asked her about it. She was very proud of the list - a rightly so! It took them 2 years to research. She was also rightly proud that they were the longest serving. I asked them if they were going to have a celebration on their 20th anniversary - "Every night is a celebration in here!" chuckled the very affable landlord. What lovely people.

The guv'nors, new & old. 

The guv'nors, new & old!

It was very quiet, being around 3 or 4o'clock, just a couple of lads sat round the corner. Two more men came, and mentioned they were on a pub crawl. They were retired and seemed to spend their time travelling round the country visiting football grounds, guided by a Good Beer Guide. It's a hard life! They'd already been to all 92 league grounds at least twice, and were off to White Hart Lane that evening. So while we talked football, pubs & beer I got another drink. A 1/2 of Harvey's Best for £1.60.

This was my first visit here, although I'd walked past many times I'd never been tempted in before. I think maybe because the frontage looks a bit intimidating? I don't know. But I think now it will be my pub of choice when I'm round Farringdon way. A wonderful, friendly, no-nonsense boozer - no doubt all thanks to Caroline & David, happy 20th! Committed landlord make a good pub. And may you reign long. See you soon.

A-top a top pub.

Bleeding heck.

Pub 32. The Bleeding Heart Tavern. 7th March 2012.

It looks like a pub...

When is a tavern not a tavern? When it's the Bleeding Heart Tavern. With such an evocative and romantic name, apparently dating from the 17th Century and the gruesome murder of one of the Lady Hattons, it's hard to resist not wanting to pop in. But it's not really a pub, it's a wine bar bistro thing.

The ales are just about capable of being pluralised. I'd never seen the Sole Star - one the 2.7% abv  beers that you hear about. For £1.85 a half it wasn't cheap, but was very tasty. You could tell it was 2.7% although - but that's not a bad thing if you've got a long drive home.

There were a few people have quiet and earnest discussions, no doubt about very serious matters. Mineral waters were quaffed, coffees were sipped, wines were savoured. Atmosphere, banter and laughter were for another day. The barman was very polite and hovered as if wanting to chat, but I waiting for to turn round so I could take some photos. Sorry mate!

Cod history

Pub, sort of.

Go here for nice food or to take business partner or fancy lady, but don't expect a proper pubby pub.

If the hat fits...

Pub 31. Ye Olde Mitre, 7th March 2012

There's only one pub in the Borough that not only didn't used to be in the Borough (or earlier pre-Camden Boroughs) but didn't even used to be in London. Sort of. As any amateur pub local historian will tell you - and tell you better than I can - for reasons to do with the Bishop of Ely, Queen Elizabeth, a garden wall, a cherry tree and Sir Christopher Hatton the tavern and its surroundings used to be part of the Diocese of Cambridgeshire. Famously not even the local police had jurisdiction here and ne'er-do-wells and rapscallions could merely leg if down Ely Court to evade capture. Although the police could sit and wait until he came out, but with a tavern down there that might be some time. And I believe that even upto the 1960s or 70s the licence here was still granted by Cambridge magistrates.

The first time I came here the Mitre's mitre was broken and it took
me a little while to find the place. Another reason to like it.

Beers & Ales >>----->  This way from Hatton Garden! A quick aside on Hatton Garden... I do like walking through this area, although I'm not likely to ever buy anything from here. If I do ever wed it'll be the kind of girl that doesn't mind a quality piece of Elizabeth Duke - but I digress from my digression. There's not many areas of London now that are dominated by one trade, sadly. Hatton Garden is a little wonderful throwback to localism in a self-contained city. I hope it never goes the same as Fleet Street.

(Rebuilt in 1778 though)

A prize to anyone who knows how to pronounce 'ye'.

Not only is its surroundings like a step back, but the pub is too. Not quite as far as the pub sign suggests, but a step back to a time when pubs were nice, relaxing places. The Mitre has one my favourite things in a pub - NO music! I do really like steps back in time.

The range of ales are fine indeed. I settled for a pint of the Seafarer's at £3.30. And a pork-pie for £1.70 - I think. The food here is good pub food. Small, simple, tasty and filling. Pubs that smell of gravy and vinegar doth annoy me so. 

The lounge

There's really not much not to dislike about this pub. Couples and a small groups of friends sitting around having a quite chat. (People say music in pubs is so conversations aren't overheard, but in a quiet pub one can talk quietly, so only the intended recipient can / has to hear. There's no need SHOUT when there's no music. By music I mean jukebox type rackets.) A local was chatting football chat to the chap behind the lounge bar - whom I assume was landlord. Later another chap came in the saloon bar and more footie chat went on across the bars. The barmaid asked him if some drunk lady who was in him the other night got home ok. It is always nice to have locals in pubs, and to have the staff know them. Another important - nay, vital! - ingredient in a good pub.

Much laughter coming from the Ye Closet. Nice.

This pub is what any pub should really be - a place for all occasions. Booze and a laugh with your mates, a quiet drink and a book, a date or a lunch-time sit down with your folks. I have done all these things on at least one occasion.

Saloon

I do like the place a lot. The loos are outside - where they should be! And although it's on the tourist trail, it's just not for tourists. Like many boozers round here it's not open on weekends - and I think it shuts at 9.30pm in the week. A licensing requirement of old (olde?) or just because everyone wants to go to bed? Either way, not a bad thing.

The sign about the bar hatch says "Always say hello or hi / Remember to say goodbye", or words to that effect. A nice touch - although should people need telling. No-one said goodbye to me when I left though, but not to worry. I shall be back - and back many more times. One of best pubs in Borough, in London - and indeed in the whole south of England.

Hells on Earth

Pub 30. The Camden Town Brewery. 2nd March 2012.

What better way than to spend a sunny afternoon in Kentish Town than down a side street next to a railway arch. Actually pub or not that sounds like quite a pleasant afternoon anyways. The Camden Town brewery has been running for a while now, first up in Hampstead and they moved down to Kentish Town a couple of years ago I think. I don't really know the exact dates - and they aren't important right now. And now they've installed a bar there too, and today was the grand opening. Ta-daaa!

Is this a pub? Well, not really but it's a bar so yeah, it'll do. So let's continue.

In...

and out.

 There was a small outside bar, and a larger inside bar. A hot-dog stand provided hot-dogs, and a ready-to-light little 'campfire' type provided a tease that it was going to be going on well in to the night. Which it didn't.
So to the nearest bar, I was advised to ignore the actual pumps handles (another tease, as they looked like ale pumps) - they were either their flagship Hells, or US-Hells. I eventually ended up having one of both for £3.50 a pint, or 2 quid a half. I'm guessing that was just for ease of money handling. They were both very nice as lagers go, and the only difference I could pertain was that the latter was unfiltered - imagine if unfiltered lager catches on with the kids! The whole filtering this funny, isn't it? People drink hazey wheat beer quite happily but other beers have to be crystal clear. The fellow said later about there's 2 types of beer, nice and not nice - it doesn't matter if it's cloudy. (Of course that doesn't mean that a 'clear' beer should be served cloudy!) Inside the other bar had a wider range, but the only other one I tried (knowingly - there were a few jugs providing ad-hoc top-ups knocking about) was the Ink Stout, which is very nice indeed.

Just after I'd got my first pint a tour of the brewey commenced so I tagged along. I found afterwards - I think - I was supposed to book, which I hadn't. Sorry Camden Town! When I've been on the brewery tours in the past I've found them very boring. Hoping to leather-apronned fellows shifting malt malt from A to B with an old wooden shovel, and oak caskes being rolled around amongst bubbling vats of steamy yeasty brew... but of course it it's nothing like that. It's all stainless steel and pressure guages. But the Camden Town guys - Jasper & co - were so very engaging and friendly that it was very enjoyable. I even learned a new fact about malt proportions that go in to stout. Education and drinking go together rather well!

Barrels of laughs

Barrels of tables

The whole bar had a bit of an American feel, nothing wrong with that of course. And the crowd were all on the young side. Young men with bushy beards were common-place. Nothing wrong this either. The hot-dogs looked very nice, although I didn't try one. Something wrong there! The queues everywhere fluctuated from very long to nil - except for the ladies loo, which just remained long. A good way for a gent too not impress the girls is to go for a leisurely no.2 while a bevvy of lager-filled lovelies wait outside . Someone mentioned a band wouldn't have gone a miss, and they had a point but I'm glad there wasn't one. Friendly conversation was everywere, I'm sure everyone knew everyone by not too many degrees of seperation. I hear they plan to do more of these, which is good although I'm not sure if the crowds would quite so large if it hadn't been such a gloriously sunny day, but it was so hoorah for that. It was like people were toasting spring sprung.

Recipe for success

Against the grain

I'd always been a bit dubious of the Camden Town Brewey, although never 'anti' or harbouring any ill-will just more a bit of a shrug, mainly as they're now concentrating on keg beers. And am always a big niggled by the fact that they've never been based in Camden Town, and I've always suspected that their name is just an attempt to sound trendy. But after a very pleasant afternoon with such very charming and friendly hosts I have really warmed to them. I'm quite happy that Camden has a decent sized small brewery, producing good beers (and hinting at some future ales again!) on the coat tails of Redemption, Mean Time and Brodies - who all do produce fine ales. Although I'm not sure when I'll be drinking the Hells lager again, perhaps some bottles on a summery Heath afternoon might go down well - or more likely on another day like this, but I really really hope they do well. I like the way they're on pally terms with other small breweries, which I guess isn't uncommon in the craft brewing world. There's plenty of room for all of them - and a penny out of InBev's pocket and in people like Jasper's I don't think anybody would not want. The trouble is that when little breweries get big, the big brewer's often get on the phone to the take-over lawyers. Stay Ltd Camden Town, and thrive!And brew some ales - less profit than lagers but better for the soul.

One bar gate

Pub 29. The Garden Gate. 26th, February 2012.

You can tell it's the Garden Gate because the pub sign is made to look like a door with a painted fence on it.

Today a strange thing happened. I went to a pub with no intention of drinking beer! Am I feeling ok you may well wonder, well yes I am feeling fine thank you. I went to the Garden Gate in South End Green, where the very nice people are offering a free bloody mary if you scan one of those funny ZX81 graphics on your techno-phone, or sign-up here like I did. Some of the more waggish amongst you might like to know that you don't even have to give a real email to claim your voucher, but I would never recommend such a thing. It's a bit disingenuous and also you might miss out on other freebie offers... if they do them.

Anyways, so in I went with my freshly printed voucher to claim my vitamin-shake. When I've used these before (Young's pubs seem keen on them) they have always caused much confusion behind the bar, as if they'd never seen such a thing before and I was on the diddle. And to make matters worse the computer-till never has a 'free voucher' button. And here was no different, but the confusion and umming & aahhing was brief and minimal, and within a few minutes of getting served (it took an age to get served mind you, but this was a Sunday lunch time in Hampstead) I was sipping a rather generously-proportioned bloody mary. I am no expert in these things, but it seemed a little lacking in Tobasco and Worstershire Sauce, which I mentioned and the barman handed said condiments over to me to add them to taste. I didn't mention the upside drinks-stirrer hidden 'neath the surface.

No beer to day thank you!

They did however have some decent looking beers, although I can't remember what they were now. But I'd certainly come back here for a drink. Everyone was eating today, and there were a lot of posh idiots fresh from a walk on the Heath. One chap was showing off to a girl about his long trek up to Whitestone pond and back. A right little Captain Scott. They then went to talk about moving abroad because you know what it's like when you've just had enough of London, and you just have to live abroad for a couple of years. You just have to. They were in their mid-20s. Another girl could not believe it by around 3ish that the kitchen had closed because they'd run out of food. She kept trying to think of a food item they might have left, preceded by "what, like nothing at all? what about <insert food item here>?" She got more and more incredulous that no meant no. Then came "......... *big eyes* chips??". Idiot.

Anyways, the bloody mary was lovely. I drank it far too quickly, and the daylight outside hit me with a thump. Be warned!

Big ol' beer garden. But not sure what the canopy-bits are for.
So you can be inside and  still be cold?

Writing this has made me want another bloody mary - I might just have to type in another email and don a beard & fake spectacles...

The famous Roebuck

Pub 28. The Roebuck, 26th February 2012.

  

My plan today was originally to go to church. Well, go to a church. An old church. A nice looking old church that had been derelict for years and they've recently done up. For a bring & buy sale. Well, to gawp at its innards - but I got the date wrong by a full 2 weeks. Dashed annoying! So what else can one do ... I know! go to the pub. The nearest pub to said church is the Roebuck on Pond Street (now saldy with neither pond at the bottom, nor cystern at the top), so there I went.

Lots of nice posh people, some dim posh people - "Which ale is the ummm, errr, ummm the lightest? What's banana bread beer?", a middle aged couple both reading papers while they ate to avoid having to talk to each other, and 4 babies - only 1 of which which bawling it's eyes out while the yummy mummy sipped the Chardonnay. The nipper almost drowned out the Six Nations (the RBS Six Nations as the black-board outside reminded us), commentary which had been turned up to 11.

 

Not many of these people are pub people, and this place isn't really a pub people pub. If it weren't for TV and the baby I'd say this would be a lovely place to eat, although the food seemed pricey (15 points on the roast price indicator range). It does however come with 'jus', which I now realise does not need an umlaut - you learn something new everyday. I am still waiting to be convinced though that their bloody marys are famous. Probably very tasty, but have you heard of them? It does annoy me when when people have to describe yourself as famous. If you are you don't have to tell people, and if you're not and you tell people it sounds a bit desperate.

I wonder what the mark-up is for buying a big bag of peanuts and puting them in to little jars?But 10/10 environmental points. Re-using is better than recycling! But I won't be re-using this place, nothing wrong it but I'm a pub person.

Sorry luv, I'm a bit Pem-broke...

Pub 27. The Pembroke Castle, 27th February, 2012.

What's the correct thing to do when walking past a very pleasant busker? Yes, slow right down to have a good listen and then rather than tossing your coins in her hat take them to the nearest pub where you can sit in the beer garden and still enjoy her sounds. The nearest pub on this occasion was the Pembroke Castle - or 'the Pembroke' as they seem to like to call it. But none the less it's still a Castle, and one of Camden's 4 (or 5) UK Castles. Well, one of the 3 that remain. Were they named after steam engines? Or built to serve the various navvies and labourers that had come from all corners of the Kingdom in the 19th Century to build houses and railways? Who knows?!

A small and predictable but entirely decent range of beers, and I like the little chalk-boards with all the basic info on, thus cutting through the cluttered mish-mash on the pump clips. Not that I object to the pump clips of course. I like a good, thick, fancy, embossed and embellished shiny pump clip. I opted for a glass of Tribute, although I forget how much it was. £1.75 I think.

Fancy bit of stained glass, although I think if this wasn't here or rather was unstained it would give a train-spotters heaven of a view over the West Coast main line behind the Roundhouse.

I also like this other black-board, which sensibly divides the ales up in to 4% and below on one side, and the other 'premium' ales together on the other. Although quite why a higher ABV makes it 'premium' I'm not sure. I'm sure they're priced to match. But still a nice and unusual distinction.

A very pleasant pub inside and out really. The beer garden is strangely peaceful, given that it's facing on to a wide looking road junction. But a quiet one. Peaceful that is until a screeching train goes past - the temptation to stand on one the benches and peer over the wall was only resisted due to being very tired. But also the first beer garden beer of the year was nice too, although generally I don't like beer gardens. Pubs are for being inside of, not outside of. But like music in pubs I seem to be a small minority here.

Finally a shot of the busker. You want to hear her too? Well, let the technology avail you!

Hearty joke

Pub 26. The Queen's Head & Artichoke, 10th February.

The street number reminds of my jeans size before I first went to a pub...

"What a stupid flipping pub name!" a mate of mine commented a while back. And he's sort of right, but rest assured it's not a new fangled silly made up name, much as it might sound like it. Apparently it's as old as the pub - which I assume is of Nash era. And I think it refers to some Queen's penchant to the titular vegetable and her cook having a say in the pub or something. I can't really be bothered to Google it right now - although I'm surprised they haven't taken the trouble to explain in a golden script on a wooden board as many pubs do now when they want to generate some instant heritage. The little reserved sign on the table I say at carried a hearty-stomachy quote suggesting the Queen in question was the first Queen Bess. But I doubt it. And I digress!
















The last time I came in here the little foreign chap behind the bar attempted some feeble light-hearted matey belittlement with me for ordering a half. He obviously had no knowledge of Terry McCann's drinking habits. If the hardest man in London drinks halves, then so will I - I being one of the weakest. All barstaff in the capital should have at least a basic knowledge of Minder. So I got myself a half of Sharp's Cornish Coaster at £1.65 and thankfully got no wisecracks from the barman. Although he did proceed to tell some people that they couldn't move the tables, and his heavy French accent made to hard it to figure out if he was joking or not, so they carried on. Perhaps he was suggesting they should hurry up and buy some drinks before moving the furniture around. It did take them a while. That is a minor irritant to me - buy your drinks and then go and sit down. Bloody tourists! Tch.

On a chilly afternoon like this what nicer welcome can a pub offer than a roaring real fire. But not here. Brr. Of the dozen or so people in I don't think any had taken their over-coats off, and sad forsaken fireplace looked just that. There's not much to say about the pub itself, it's very nice. Lots of wood. One end is loungey, one end is diningy. A pleasant place. The only annoying thing was the piped music. Bland modern light smooth pop FM or some such. Why? It always makes me wonder why they bother. Not one person has come for it, and not one person wouldn't come in if they didn't have it. It generates no income and no atmosphere. Everyone in there was chatting away merrily amongst themselves, and they wouldn't even notice if it was gone. The only thing achieved by its presence was the minor annoyance of me. Surely a real-fire would be more of a draw (no pun intended - if anyone gets it...) than a feeble music machine.

As I went in - at about 4.30pm ish - I noticed the clock was on 10.05 (am or pm I couldn't work out). Nothing unusual there, many pubs have broken clocks. But after a few sips, 3across and 1 & 9 down, I noticed that it now said 9.55 a/pm. Hey? Had the 1/2 gill of session ale already got me in a tizz. Nope.. it was definitely running  backwards. Ahh one of those joke clocks with the backwards numbers so beloved of pubs that also house a Big Mouth Billy Bass. But no... the numerals were clockwise. How peculiar. As I returned my drained glass to the bar I asked the barman about it. The only words I could draw out from l'accent were that "it was the system when the clock was made, they were all like that." Oh? says I. When was the clock made? I enquired. "1920s or 30s? I dunno." Right... so it's a joke clock! "Nooo it's just the system." So now you know.

Perfectly nice pub with a nice range of familiar beers, although the only point of real interest is a joke clock. Sorry - system clock.