Far bit for me to encourage bad language but when doom-scrolling social media this morning I came upon this wonderful picture, which has the following header: ‘Before all the pretentious pricks turned up in pub kitchens.’ I’ve thought the same thing for many, many years, pretty well ever since pubs began selling actual meals. As an old acquaintance once said to me: “I go to the pub to drink, not eat. If I wanted to eat, I’d go to a restaurant.” I saw exactly where he was coming from. I grew up in an era of pub food which mainly consisted of various types of rolls (or cobs, as they were often known), cheese and onion being my go-to roll, or a cheese toastie. Pub food was very much an afterthought, too, a distant second to the beer I had gone to the pub in the first place. Nowadays, many pubs exist to serve food and the beer is the afterthought. It’s quite the big change.
The very idea of a ‘pub kitchen‘ rankles with me. My old local pub, until 1990, was the Kings Arms in the Briz area of Bristol. In my day (just listen to me!), it was just a pub, seven days a week. The only food, if you were lucky, were toasties, which old pal Nick and I would enjoy with our pints of Courage Best after walking back from Eastville on a Saturday tea time, where we had watched our beloved Bristol Rovers. I have not been in the pub since – oh, let’s think: ah yes, 1990 – but from reading the blurb it appears today that the only food is ‘rolls and bar snacks‘. I may have to pay it a visit one of these fine days, although perhaps not when the ‘Tuesday quizzes, open mic nights on Thursday, and monthly live bands and Karaoke on Saturdays’ are taking place.
Of course, I know why pubs serve actual meals and hold quizzes, open mic nights, live bands and karaoke evenings. It’s to make money, more specifically to make enough money to survive as a pub. It’s an economic necessity, not just a simple preference. I can’t blame pubs for changing the way they operate but a pub that sells food plus beer, never mind that ghastly invention, the Gastropub? Frankly, I cannot think of an alehouse I’d less like to visit than a Gastropub. But then, there’s something else to add to the pot: I don’t like to eat out anywhere, full stop. Except pubs that sell rolls and snacks.
One of my main memories of watching Bristol Rovers at Eastville was the pre match pints and rolls in the Old Fox in nearby Easton. It was my introduction to the joys of so-called real ale, with added cheese and onion rolls. We would have two rolls and God knows how many pints before the game and it was a vital part of the our day at the football. The pub is long gone, as is Eastville Stadium, but the memories of beer and rolls remain as strong as ever.
These days, it’s hard to find a boozer that sells simple snacks, although I am very find of The Red Monkey in Redland (great beer, great cheese and onion rolls) and, further afield, the incredible Wellington in Birmingham, which stakes a dual claim as serving the best real ales and the best cheese and onion cobs this side of heaven. There are a good few more and I hope they survive and thrive in a world where going out for a pint is secondary to going out for a meal.
The chip on my working class shoulder has not really shifted over the years and the ‘Before all the pretentious pricks turned up in pub kitchens’ that appears is a comment I wholeheartedly agree with. I detest reading menus that use terms like ‘artisanal’, ‘infused’, ‘farm to table‘ (why not ‘slaughterhouse to table‘?) and having food served on fucking slates rather than plates, but that’s probably just me railing against the dying of the light.
If you want your ‘Pickled & Ice Filtered Strawberry Consommé with Bee Pollen & Black Pepper Meringue Kisses’ (strawberries and cream), that’s fine by me, but I can easily manage with a cheese and onion roll, a pickled egg or just a packet of crisps (ready salted, obvs) alongside my foaming pint of Boston’s Old Thumper, thank you very much. And if there are no bar snacks available, pour me another pint, landlord. That will be why I am in the pub in the first place, after all.
