Cuisine: British pub food
Location: Pangbourne, UK
Date: June 2014
Occasion: Lunch out
The 1st of June - summer is officially upon us. The weather gods were obviously aware of this, as we awoke to a mostly clear blue sky and bright sun - interspersed by small fluffy white clouds, but clearly going to be a nice day. In the absence of any beach, what better way to enjoy the sun than to find a country pub on the river, and spend a lazy Sunday afternoon eating and drinking?
Fortunately, along this stretch of the Thames there are numerous small towns and villages, all with pleasant eating holes, so choosing between country pubs was more of a problem then finding one. Which, of course, caused the age old dilemma: try somewhere new, or return to a favourite? Eventually, we settled on the latter, and drove roughly 20 minutes along the River to the small town of Pangbourne in West Berkshire. Among the various pubs here is The Swan - an old, 17th-century building overlooking the river, just opposite the lock and with the sound of the weir clearly audible. Inside are all the things one might expect in a traditional country pub - wooden beams low enough to cause serious head trauma to anyone over 5 ft that wasn't paying attention, log fires, wooden tables and comfy sofas and armchairs.
On this occasion, however, we chose to sit outside on their extensive patio - a large area covered in old paving slabs holding an array of wooden tables, about as close to the River as it's possible to be whilst staying dry. When we arrived, at around midday, there were 2 medium-size motorboats moored alongside the patio, and many tables were already taken. Despite the busyness, however, they were offering a full table service and so menus were promptly handed to us once seated.The menu was impressive - 2 or 3 sharing options (such as a British meat board), then a choice of approximately 7 starters and 10 main courses. Since my time in India, I have become more receptive to vegetarian options in restaurants - here, like many places, disappointingly there wasn't a huge amount of choice for non-meat eaters. Perhaps 1 or 2 starters and the same for mains.
However, on this occasion that was not an issue. After the usual amount of time savouring the menu, sipping wine and imagining what lay ahead, we decided to share a starter, opting for the Rare British beef served on a bed of watercress with Parmesan shavings (beef carpaccio by any other name). It was served with beetroot-flavoured balsamic vinegar and truffle oil - and this, for me, proved to be a major sticking point. To be fair, it was clearly mentioned on the menu, and had I been choosing for myself I would have steered well clear - but the dish is a favourite of my companion, so I braved it for her.Now… Truffles, and therefore truffle oil, are a bit of a bete noire for me. I am fully aware how highly prized, revered and eye-wateringly expensive they are, throughout the majority of Europe and elsewhere. I am fully aware how renowned truffle hunters can take on celebrity status, and how many towns and villages throughout France (and no doubt elsewhere) hold highly anticipated truffle festivals and dinners. They are an incredibly respected commodity, seen by restaurant critics and foodies worldwide as the ultimate luxury and treat. The problem for me is that, despite knowing I should worship them, being brutally honest I really don't like them one little bit. There are very, very few things that I really don't like - truffles are one of them. A year ago I bought a small bottle of truffle oil (a cheaper way than actually buying a truffle itself) in an attempt to acquire the taste, but I failed miserably. The smell makes me feel physically nauseous, and the taste is worse - generally, I'm a big fan of earthy, meaty flavours, but really not these.
Anyway, back to lunch. Because of the above, the starter was not my favourite ever starter. I hold no blame to the restaurant for this - it was very clearly marked, and for someone without the above issue it was undoubtedly a very nice and well presented starter. Small slices of perfectly rare beef surrounded a small bed of watercress, delicately covered in shards of Parmesan. Surrounding the plate were little circles of sauce - the balsamic next to the truffle oil. Every bite I had that avoided truffle oil was delicious - the meat was meltingly tender, balanced well by the salty Parmesan and peppery watercress. Unfortunately, however, it was difficult to avoid the truffle oil, but I struggled through.
There was a small bit of excitement during our starter, when we noticed that my wine glass (containing a rather good Sicilian white) was inadvertently acting like a magnifying glass in the heat and causing the wooden table to ever so slightly catch fire. This was clearly a sign to keep moving the glass, necessitating faster drinking.
The main courses then arrived. My companion went for the Caesar salad, containing West Country free-range chicken, a poached egg, croutons and of course shredded lettuce. It was also meant to be served with anchovies, but she asked not to have these - interestingly, so did 2 other tables surrounding us. Should the chef take the hint? The salad, she said, was very good - although, being honest, is there much to go wrong in a Caesar salad? The important thing here is always the dressing, and she said that was very good. The only criticism was with the chicken, which was clearly comprised of some of the less good cuts and therefore contained a fair amount of skin and gristle. But on the whole, not a bad job.
I continued my tour of traditional fish and chips, which on this occasion was line-caught cod covered in a beer batter (made from IPA Gold) served with the usual chips, mushy peas and tartar sauce. The fish, although well cooked (nicely soft and flakey on the inside), wasn't the best I have ever had. The batter was crisp, but the whole thing was rather oily and would have benefited from being better drained. The chips were twice-cooked, and therefore nicely crisp on the outside whilst fluffy within, and the peas were as expected. The most noticeable thing, however, was the size - it's normal to expect a traditional fish and chips to be large, but when alive this beastie would have made Moby Dick swim away in terror. It was described as line-caught - I wonder what size line?
We were too full, and by this time too hot and a little sunburnt, for deserts, so we just had an espresso each to finish. All in all, not a bad meal at all. Would certainly come back, but next time might well avoid the giant monsters lurking in the deep - of either fungal or aquatic variety.
