One of England’s most unique and particular wonders is the traditional public house. A real one is instantly comfortable, beaming hearth and home, the domain of brotherhood, conversation and warmth. Coming from Yorkshire where the noble pub is perhaps even more the cornerstone of day to day living, the institution is particularly close to my heart. London was a struggle at first. Here wine bars reign, champagne bubbles hold supreme and the G&T is King. Conversation between strangers flows not and even the most chipper nod is met with confusion best case, disdain worst. As this sad fact sank in, finding a good pub became less of a wish and more of a necessity for my continued residency.
The criteria? There should be fine ales. These should always take precedence over wine and they should always be on tap. There should be food. Good food. Not the sort to compete with the hordes of fine dining restaurants our nation’s capital has to offer, not complex, nor ethnic nor particularly refined. Just good, simple, tasty British food that doesn’t break the bank. A fire place is preferable and I’d love it if there were plenty of sofas. The music should be mellow, as should the crowd. The Publican should possess eccentricities of the most personable order, and you should never want to cross his wife. I’ll accept it as a bridge too far for the surly South to walk in and chat to my neighbour at the bar, but as long as the staff can raise a smile it’s okay, I’ll choose my battles…
And so, given the extensity of this list and the emotional investment I attach to it, I was not expecting on strolling down some hidden side street in Clerkenwell one evening to find it so easily. But Lo! The Coach and Horses, around the corner from Farringdon station; a cosy nook for me to come, quietly drink and fill my belly in the contentment that only a British pub can bring.
I won’t repeat the above criteria in explaining to you how it fulfils each, and only state that it does, though I’ll spare some text for the food, for it is wonderful and deserves the surplus. Here, they serve dishes to fill the belly and the soul. Flavoursome scotch eggs with rich, molten orange hearts, meaty terrines of game and blood sausage, served with duck eggs and pickles. Fabulous roasts, good gravy (very important) and always a pleasing fish selection. This isn’t food to topple Heston, to shock or surprise. It is just great food.
So please, if you feel like me or are on your own quest of publican discovery, head up to The Coach and Horses, Clerkenwell. Sink a few cold ones, eat some crackling and just tell me it doesn’t feel like home.
Rating: 7.5/10
26-28 Ray Street, Clerkenwell, London, EC1R 3DJ
www.coachandhorses.com
02078371336
And so, given the extensity of this list and the emotional investment I attach to it, I was not expecting on strolling down some hidden side street in Clerkenwell one evening to find it so easily. But Lo! The Coach and Horses, around the corner from Farringdon station; a cosy nook for me to come, quietly drink and fill my belly in the contentment that only a British pub can bring.
I won’t repeat the above criteria in explaining to you how it fulfils each, and only state that it does, though I’ll spare some text for the food, for it is wonderful and deserves the surplus. Here, they serve dishes to fill the belly and the soul. Flavoursome scotch eggs with rich, molten orange hearts, meaty terrines of game and blood sausage, served with duck eggs and pickles. Fabulous roasts, good gravy (very important) and always a pleasing fish selection. This isn’t food to topple Heston, to shock or surprise. It is just great food.
So please, if you feel like me or are on your own quest of publican discovery, head up to The Coach and Horses, Clerkenwell. Sink a few cold ones, eat some crackling and just tell me it doesn’t feel like home.
Rating: 7.5/10
26-28 Ray Street, Clerkenwell, London, EC1R 3DJ
www.coachandhorses.com
02078371336
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