lovelychaos

This weekend I visited previously uncharted territory – Todmorden – somewhere in the no-mans-land between Manchester and Leeds, to see a couple of friends of The Boy and I. I am not noted for my ability to thrive in the middle of nowhere, however, as long as there is a decent pub I will remain happy until I have to trudge home through mud and across dry stone walls in the driving sleet. (This did not happen – merely the image the mention of such isolation conjurs up.)

As it turns out, Todmorden is not as small or isolated as I had imagined (Train station! Roads! Hybrid art gallery / beer shop!). It’s also just down the road from the rather nice Hebden Bridge, home to the ridiculously good Stubbing Wharf. The Stubbing Wharf is a pub as it should be, great beer, and fantastic home-cooked food. It makes a mockery of both the Brakes-fed masses pervading the country and also the gastropubs multiplying their prices while they multiply in number.

The food here is fantastic and restores my faith in pub grub. It’s very well priced (for me, spending all my time in London it was positively bargainous – for the local northerners it is ‘expensive but worth it’), wonderfully fresh and also apportioned generously.

I started with a deliciously chunky venison paté, gamey, meaty and beautifully seasoned. I was hungry after a fair amount of some lovely Sauvignon Blanc and started eating before I remembered to take its photo. Anyway. Beautiful. The boys ate perfect haddock goujons.

For main I ordered sausage, leek and mushroom pie. I can honestly say I can’t remember having a better pie. (And, dear reader, before you start chanting I haven’t eaten them all, but I’ve had a few). It was rich but not heavy, creamy and peppery. Wonderful pastry, and set down with a massive plate of rustic (northern) chips and vegetables.

Goodness me, it was great. It’s places like this that fully restore my faith in the Great British Pub and so the Great British Pub Dinner. In one way, it’s a shame that they are at their best in such isolation (no matter how hard I try, I feel I am destined to never be fully satisfied by the many bastardised gastropubs in London), but conversely this is their nature and yet another part of what makes them so good.

There was lots of satisfaction here. Perhaps I should spend more time looking for similar boltholes in the isolated parts of this green and pleasant land. Perhaps I’m not such a city girl after all…?