There’s been an interesting discussion on Twitter, sparked by Pub Curmudgeon’s blog, about the worth of the Beer Guide in attracting extra business. That issue might get lost among the fish though.
Inclusion in the Guide feels more like a badge of honour than a licence to print money, and I guess there won’t be too many folk making the attractive walk from central Manchester to Higher Broughton, though I can think of at least one.
It’s mostly a walk through wasteland and abandoned beer cans to be fair, but of course you get great views back to the finest urban skyline in England. This is the only street art I found, and that was as the entrance to a shopping centre.
Higher Broughton is not the greatest suburb in Salford’s armoury, but the Duke of York is a gem, and not just architecturally.
An increasingly rare all-day opener, it was lively enough by 11.30am in the morning with folks who probably wouldn’t shift loyalty to a Spoons if one opened here (it won’t). The regulars all looked older than me, though they probably weren’t.
There are several reasons I love Holts pubs, and the fact they’re often the last real ale pub in a large area is just one of them. It’s a mile to the next decent pub (the Star).
Like Sam Smiths, it is very easy to find a cosy place to sit and hide, or to chat, or to watch Owen Smith on TV. That’s something increasingly rare in modern pubs.
The locals were amused by the sticky foliage my shirt had acquired on the way, which they called stickybacks. I thought stickybacks were fish.
QUIZ TIME – What are those sticky things called ?
The Duke of York isn’t one of their better known pubs, and won’t be featuring on many Eccles-style pub crawls any time soon, but is still very beautiful.
Most importantly, you get a choice of Bitter or an excellent Mild (NBSS 3.5, £1.90). The Mild tastes well above it’s 3.2%. None of those silly guest beers, though I see Holts were advertising London Pride as a guest in some of their houses. I’d be interested to see if they serve it cooler than they do in that London place.
One of these days I’ll meet the man dubbed the “unofficial face of Holts” in one of these marvellous pubs near his North Manchester home. I wouldn’t take photos of him.