April 2025. Sheffield.
Spending an hour, an actual hour, in the Rising Sun did allow me to scour Untappd and What Pub for nearby pre-emptive ticks. That’s both a blessing and a curse of the internet, encouraging that extra exploratory pint half schooner.
A couple of years ago in the Boak and Bailey recommended Union HoteI I was chatting to two young guys, one called Mac, who were about to open Crafty One in the smart west Sheffield suburbs above the string of parks running along Porter Brook.
Well, Crafty One became the Wobbly Labrador, as there were already approximately 44 pubs in Sheffield with “crafty” in the name.
And none called “Wonky Labrador”.
It’s that very typical Sheffield neighbourhood bar, no cask but the sort of keg range Blackpool Jane would like.
No Pastore, astonishingly, so I ask for a half of the lovely Cherry Sour.
“A half ? Or would you like two-thirds ?”
It was so beautifully done I didn’t feel the upsell.
“Yes ! Two-thirds is the perfect measure !”.
“Oh, and one of your “local” pork pies please“.
Would I have had one if they came from Skipton, rather than Sheffield.
There’s a lovely atmosphere, mates coming in for a gin to finish off the weekend, and the only downside is having to take the high table next to the loo.
And the mustard. It’s the right mustard, but I apply far too much of it onto my chewy pork pie (NPPSS 4).
Straight up the nose. But at least five minutes later I’m out in the fresh air along the Brook, and up towards the Botanical Gardens.`
But pints and pies take their toll; 45 minutes out, 53 minutes back. Work still to do.
retiredmartin 