This can be Number 1 in a series of posts advising American visitors to Sussex where to visit, or avoid.
I can’t imagine that Dick and Dave will be able to contain their joy when they enter the Squirrel,on the western outskirts of Battle, to be handed a John Denver LP. Or if you’re really lucky, a James Last.
On closer inspection you’ll discover this is the “menu“, not an addition to your vinyl collection, and you’ll realise you’ve been asked those magic words “Will you be dining with us?”.
Your call. It’s a standard menu of pub food that looks a bit less pretentious than the norm, including a steak suet pudding. On slates.
What’s wrong with plates ?
The skillet below contained the veggie fajita, with soggy fries and a salad that slipped off it’s plate. Shoulda hadda burger.
Choosing a beer is made more entertaining by the absence of proper pump clips.
What’s wrong with pump clips ?
You’ll be fine as long as you can read. As you can see, the jam jars do an essential job of distinguishing between the different colours and flavours of the beer.
I had a half of the Conquest, which was undrinkable. Returning it, I quietly suggested it might be the end of the barrel.
“Yeah, it probably is”
As Dick and Dave will know, in England it’s the customer’s job to ensure the beer is OK. Three people were called to assess the problem, before I ended up with a half of Harveys, which was little better (NBSS 2.5)
A visitor to this busy eating pub on a sunny Friday in May would conclude
a) The beer on handpumps is always warm.
b) Beers you haven’t heard of, including Harveys, should be avoided at all costs.
c) Beer comes in stem glasses, salt and pepper in handle jars.
What’s wrong with straight glasses ?
They didn’t do Guinness or Carling either apparently, which led the Aussie barmaid to offer samples of their alternative stout (Black Cab ?), and Peroni, possibly a first.
Signs proclaimed “Craft beer of the day” (Yardbird) and an upcoming Greene King Beer Fest featuring beers from Greene King. Dick & Dave may even catch it.
Those barmaids are the strongpoint of the pub, whose six staff asked me on three separate occasions whether I was OK. “Awesome” “Cool” etc. etc.
From my posing table hell I was well placed to have old people bump into me at regular intervals, and observe the hell that is polite society in all its glory. Two ladies who lunch extolled the virtues of Bastille Day, and their Brittany gite. Mrs RM will know how uncomfortable I would have been in this company.
“What’s the pie of the day”
“It’s chicken and mushroom, but I can’t tell you anymore than that”
“OK, I’ll have something else“.
Battle, of course, is known for it’s history, here commemorated with some pictures of Hitler on the dining room walls. I’m not making this up.
I hope this hasn’t mucked up Dick and Dave’s itinerary completely.