NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL SERVICE

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Back to Northallerton, and the Oddfellow’s Arms.

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Proper pub, by the graveyard

Pleasingly, it didn’t scream “gastro“, but the sign saying “Lunch served 12-2” was even scarier.

We too late for food then ?”

I’ll see what we can rustle up

Now that’s service for you. Compare with this.

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Mrs RM asked for the strongest beer (they weren’t that strong, unfortunately, so I had to buy her two) and sat down looking for the WiFi code.

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Rarely seen pale beers. Plus my new glasses

This was a “community” pub, in the sense that the folk weren’t all blokes aged 50-65.,and there was a lot of comings and goings.

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Watching Sun’land lose again

That part of the crowd were following Sunderland’s attempt to pull back a 3 goal deficit at Cardiff. I thought for a moment they were exiled Mackems, but the disinterest that greeted the 4th goal confirmed them as voyeurs of the car crash that is the Black Cat’s season.

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Four-nil !!!!

Some great bench seating dotted around, and we felt very cosy tucked away in the corner near the unused darts board.

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Surprisingly, the food arrived before Mrs RM had finished her beers (very good, she says).

Knowing how much our Canadian reader enjoys pictures of proper food (being confined to reindeer fat during the winter months), here’s my proper pie (£7).

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It’s a slice of a proper hardcrust pie, too, with really chunky steak. Mrs RM had chosen pie, but insisted on swapping with me when she saw the Ploughman’s came on a slate.

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Pub Curmudgeon view sought

Our culinary experiences were enlivened by a youth who came in to play darts next to us.

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Future Eric Bristow rather than Phil Taylor

I waited for a dart to land on Mrs RM’s slate, but they all hit the wall successfully.

Time for one more, Mrs RM ?”

There was.

16 thoughts on “NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL SERVICE

  1. Definitely a proper pie, although the chunk of slate rather lets the ploughman’s down.

    Judging by the number of people wearing coats in the pub, including the youthful darts player with the interesting technique, I would say the heating needed turning up. Not that I’m saying anything about Yorkshire folk (more than my life’s worth), but??

    Liked by 1 person

  2. PC’s verdict on the Ploughman’s eagerly awaited.

    I’d have a call it a ‘build it yourself Ploughman’s Lunch kit’ – and crackers instead of crusty bread? Bye eck lad – I just can’t see the Ploughman sitting down for lunch in his half ploughed field without a chunk of wholesome bread.

    Pie looks good though – and the chunky carrots

    Liked by 2 people

  3. “I’ll see what we can rustle up” – Now that’s service for you.”

    Of course. Any time “russell” is mentioned is bound to be top notch. 😉

    “Knowing how much our Canadian reader enjoys pictures of proper food (being confined to reindeer fat during the winter months), here’s my proper pie (£7).”

    That does look tasty to be sure. But as for reindeer (Caribou over here) you have been slightly misinformed. Various relatives on my wife’s side go hunting in October, but it’s for moose, not caribou. And yes, they clean it, dress it, and hack it all up the proper way to store and eat over the winter. (they do the same for salmon in the summer). Oh and part of the reason they do that is in order to have enough food to give to the elders who no longer able to hunt themselves).

    I had moose meat for Christmas dinner once. A bit gamey for my taste but apparently is has less fat and less calories than beer but more protein.

    Give me steak and kidney pie any time. 🙂

    Cheers

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I feel obliged to comment on the Ploughmans lunch. There is no such thing. It is just pure invention by pub caterers. I’d never heard of one until I went to live in Guildford in the early eighties. Boak & B allude to it in their pub book. Think about it, when do you plough? Or when did they plough in the days of yore when the ploughman sat under a spreading oak and ate his bread and cheese? Late autumn and maybe very early spring, hardly idyllic weather for an agricultural picnic. Back in the day the farms were much smaller and the ploughman would have walked home for his snap. And anyway, where would the poor chap have put the slate? He must have had big pockets. Imagine what the crackers would have been like after a morning plugging away over a rutted field behind a pair of draft horses? Crumbs!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’d always heard it was a promotional scheme hatched by the cheese industry in the 1960s. So disappointing! But you’ve got to give them credit for having chosen the perfect name. It *sounds* real, and it expertly plays into a pub goer’s idea of “the good old days, when everything was simpler and better.”

      Liked by 1 person

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