The Oldest Pub In Kent

By the Westbere Lakes on the side of the A28 there is a little sign.  A simple sign near a small turning that you can easily miss.  It points down a country lane and quietly announces '14th Century Inn".

You turn down this tiny little country lane, leaving the hustle and bustle of the main road behind you, and enter Westbere village.  A picture perfect, chocolate box village huddled near the lakes filled with beautiful country cottages and white picket fences covered in creeping wild rose and honeysuckle.  In the heart of the village lies the Old Yew Tree Inn.

Built in 1348 (it's 666 years old, making it about 20 years older than The Parrot and officially the oldest pub in Kent), this charming, sprawling pub has serviced the needs of the upper echelons of English society during its lifetime.  Queen Anne, the Archbishop of Canterbury and even Dick Turpin (more notorious than gentry it has to be said of the latter) are all reputed to have stayed here over the ages.  On this particular Friday afternoon the visitors were not quite so illustrious.  Steve, my parents and I came for some lunch following an appointment in town on a much welcomed day off work for us.

Inside the bar we stood and chatted with Wayne, the chef and a friend of Steve's from darts whilst waiting for our draft ales and Bloody Mary's to be poured.   I like my Bloody Mary's really spicy and with a decent salt kick so was pleased to be left with the bottles to adjust the seasoning to my taste.

The interior of the Yew Tree is exactly what you would expect from an ancient pub; thick whitewashed walls keeping out the heat of the day, crooked, pockmarked beams and a large inglenook fireplace that turns the interior of the pub into a cosy sanctuary against the chill of the winter and a barrier against the ghosts who are reputed to haunt the building.  If you are visiting Kent from abroad, looking for a 'traditional English pub', you can't get much more traditional than this place! 

Today was anything but a cold winter's day, and with the blazing sunshine calling to us from the gardens, we gathered up our drinks and found a picnic bench to relax on whilst we decided what to order for lunch.  It was a Friday lunchtime, and the place was pretty quiet as most people were obviously at work, but there were a few other couples and families scattered around, taking advantage of the glorious weather we have been experiencing in the Costa Del Kent recently.

My father spent a goodly amount of time admiring the workmanship and detailing in the period features, such as the carvings on the arched doorway leading from the gardens to the bar.  This is one of the charming features of the pub; wherever you look there is something to admire and catch your eye. 

The menu was extremely attractive, with a variety of fresh produce from local sources.  The 5 starters and 5 mains changes on a daily basis; years ago the rumour of the Yew Tree sandwiches was what had originally bought Steve and I to the pub for lunch, and the sandwiches were fabulous then.  The Inn has changed hands a couple of times since then and the food is even better now under the new ownership.  At the sight of pigeon breast salad on the menu, 3 of the 4 members of our party were sold instantly (with the addition of a healthy portion of chips).  Steve went for the sausage sandwich, in memory of the ones we had enjoyed all those years ago.  It was supposed to be a light lunch as Steve and I were going out for an all-you-can-eat-Chinese that night with friends, but portion sizes were extremely generous and we probably ate more than we should have done.

The pub is incredibly peaceful and we were perfectly happy to spend a good couple of hours sitting, drinking and chatting as thousands of people have done before us over countless lifetimes.  It is a little daunting to sit and think about the stories that the walls could tell about the people who have passed through the stable doors, their hopes and dreams, the intrigues and scandals.  How many of their dreams went up in ashes like the wood in the inglenook fireplace and how many came to fruition?

The Yew Tree Inn is a little off the beaten track, but such a beautiful old place that it would be a travesty not to visit it at least once.  While you are there, why don't you ask if Wayne is in today and tell him I sent you? 

If you like (or hate!) what you have read, please do let me know in the comments below or slap me with a cheeky follow, or say Hi to me on my facebook group or twitter!

The George and the Dragon

The George and the Dragon is a large old pub in the centre of the smallest town in Britain.

I'm not sure how Fordwich is still classified as a town when in reality it is smaller than a lot of the villages around us, but apparently it is due to the fact that it still has a town council.  Either way, it has long been on my list of dream destinations to live in because it is just so pretty!

It is just up the road from Canterbury, a 5 minute drive if the traffic in Sturry is behaving itself and you don't catch the train crossing at the wrong moment, and right on the banks of the River Stour. It is filled with windy narrow streets and ancient stone cottages covered in purple flowering wisteria all lining the green banks of the river.  There is also a church, a town hall, and another pub.  Even a town this small has to have at least two pubs to its name, otherwise people gossiping about each other will be forced to share bar space.

Fordwich used to be a major port destination for Canterbury when it (and Canterbury) were still cut off from Thanet by the Wantsum channel which has long since silted up, but nowadays the most exciting thing you are likely to find on this stretch of the river is the annual Summer Duck Race.  Which by the way I have already booked into my diary and plan on entering.

The George and the Dragon is a popular destination for us.  We frequently drive out here, especially in the summer to soak up the sun in the garden or play board games by the fire in the winter.  I once got so drunk one Halloween after a meal with friends that I inadvertently cheated at Cluedo and ruined the game for everyone.  It was the first time I had ever played and I'm not convinced that I really understood the rules, at least I certainly didn't after 3 bottles of red wine.  We also got to name a Halloween cocktail that night; it's one of the last things I clearly remember.

The George has been in Fordwich since around the 1400's and as with any building that old, is apparently haunted.   'The Lady with the Green Hat' is thought to wander the pub and grounds and the story goes that the telephone downstairs, although having been disconnected many years ago, still rings at times.  To be honest I have never seen a ghost here, although I normally distracted by other things, such as my food.  And my wine glass.  And the dessert menu.

The menu at the George is extensive, changes seasonally and is normally good.  I say normally as the day that I visited with friends to celebrate Ellie's birthday, we had a less than steller meal and the service was quite slow but this is an anomaly for this place.  I've had dinner here 3 or 4 times and lunch at least 10 times and the food is normally much better, although it can be pricey.  Starters average around the £6, mains around £14 and bottles of wine around £20.

Previously I have eaten the goats cheese tart, the burger, the steak sandwich, the ribs and the fish and chips (not all in one sitting I hasten to add) and they have all been wonderful.  I have had business lunches here and staff development days and they have always been incredibly accommodating.   I had the King Prawn Indonesian Curry this time round and found it to be tasty, but too salty and the same went for my olives which hadn't been rinsed of their liquor and so were almost inedible towards the bottom of the ramiken they were served in.  Steve's burger was unfortunately chargrilled, and not in a good way and his cheesy garlic bread was topped with cheddar instead of mozzarella.  Our friends said that their fish pie, the gnocchi and the duck breast were both very good and the steak and the charcuterie board both looked magnificent as well so it is possible that Steve and I just ordered badly this time!

In the past the George has also done a Tuesday pudding club (great for people like me with an incredibly sweet tooth) but I can't find any information as to whether or not this is still going on.

I love coming here for the atmosphere though.  It is a higgledy-piggledy building filled with truly ancient beams (some of which are so pitted from long dead wood worm that you wonder how on earth they are still holding together), wooden floorboards and huge open fireplaces with worn leather chesterfield arm chairs in front.

Everything about this place is warm and comforting and it is always filled with a relaxed, chattering crowd from Fordwich and the surrounding areas.  The George is divided into three clear zones, the bar, the restaurant and the garden.  It doesn't really matter where you sit though as you can order the same food and drink in any area.

The River Stour is famous for its trout fishing, boasting a breed of salmon trout that is local to Fordwich and you can see signs of the river's influence all over the George (although surprisingly, not on the menu!)

I mentioned that garden, which is one of the main draws of the George in the summer months and can become completely packed with the Sunday luncher crowd, aided by the presence of a boules court.  You may wish to consider booking on a Saturday or Sunday lunchtime in the heart of summer!

When I was little, my parents used to make an hour and a half drive out to the countryside (no idea where) just so we could go for Sunday lunch at a particular pub.  It was the quintessential English pub, utterly charming, relaxed and friendly.  The George has that same feeling for me, it feels like a true country establishment at the center of a community which is holding onto its traditions.  Even the name is about as traditional as you can get!  I think that this is why it feels more like a village than a town - you can imagine it still having a May Day Festival, complete with Maypole!

I love this pub, which is why I was so disappointed with our last visit.  You just hope that you got them on an off day and that they were short-staffed in the kitchen or some such excuse.  I would hate to see this pub lose its focus.

If you like (or hate!) what you have read, please do let me know in the comments below or slap me with a cheeky follow, or say Hi to me on my facebook group or twitter!

The Canterbury Tales

If you are at all familiar with Canterbury, or even if you are not, you should have heard of Chaucer.  The medieval author of saucy bawdry who to this day is capable of making school children sob into their school dinners as they try to translate what is effectively gobbledegook to the modern ear. 

Middle English has that effect on people.

The 20 or so tales that form his magnum opus describe the antics of a group of pilgrims as they travelled from Southwark of all places to Canterbury.  During the long journey they needed entertaining and so told stories to each other, some lewd, some romantic, some tragic and some farcical.  These stories collectively became known as the Canterbury Tales.

Now, I can't say for certain exactly what sort of stories you are likely to overhear in The Canterbury Tales these days, but I'm pretty sure that there will be some lewd, some romantic, some tragic and some farcical in there.  After all, human nature hasn't changed all that much in the 700 odd years since Chaucer got his quill out.

The Canterbury Tales is located opposite the Marlowe Theatre, next to Pilgrims.  It has a very different vibe to Pilgrims though.  The Tales (as it is affectionately known by the the locals) attracts a slightly rocky, indie crowd and is definitely a student magnet pub.   The shot list is a fairly strong indication of this.  Sinead and I decided to try out the Cherry Bakewell's (or I may have impulsively marched to the bar and ordered a couple then force fed Sinead - I forget).  They taste just like cough syrup, something my parents used to have to hide from me as I would quite happily gulp it from the bottle, sickness or no sickness. 

The Tales is a bit grubby, a bit shabby and a bit rough around the ages but it is warm, welcoming and inviting, filled with people who are more interested in art and music and debate and conversation than in standing around, waiting for other people to notice them (anyone else think of Cocktail when they read that - fairly sure I just ripped off a line from that film).

The atmosphere is definitely what draws people in -it is unpretentious and friendly and you can banter quite happily with the bar staff and the other punters as you wait to be served.  

In addition to the shooters there is a broad mix of ales, some of which you may find on offer and spirits (boasting the largest spirit measure in Canterbury), as well as your usual mix of lagers.  Prices are reasonable, just watch out for the interval queues from the Marlowe Theatre - you don't want to time your glass running dry with the masses from next door descending!

We finished rehearsal relatively early one night so rocked up for a couple of quiet bevvies and a relax on a Friday night.  This is probably the quietest I have ever seen The Tales.  I've tried to blog it before but given up as all the photo's just came out as the back of someone's jacket and their head, and I'm not tall enough to reach over the crowd for the wide ranging shots like other people.  Tall people.  People who don't need to climb on the kitchen counters to reach something from the top shelf of a cupboard.

The Tales is a late night license venue so attracts huge crowds of people as all the other places give them a kick in the backside at closing time out of the door.  Get here at 11pm and you won't fit in the door, I don't care how hard you suck your gut in.

There is a bit of a gothic vibe to the Tales with its blood red walls, baroque wall paper,  raging fire place, rough hewn wooden furniture, creaking sofas and creepy Victorian portraits.  Like a lot of Canterbury pubs it is also a bit windy inside, more a connection of small, intimate rooms linked by the bar than one large, anonymous space. 

Candles stuffed into Jack Daniels bottles long since drained of their liquor litter the table tops, dripping trails of red wax begging for an inprint of a seal. 

It was these corded bottles that provided the inspiration for one of the most baffling games I have ever witnessed the boys play.  Ben and Tim spent a good 15 minutes staring in fixed fascination at the oozing stub of the candle softly dripping the last of it's life down the neck of the bottle, debating the exact moment in which it would plunge into Jack's belly.

It was fascinating stuff.  You can tell by the fact that Sinead has given up trying to talk to them and is now on her phone.  I'm photographing them, although it has to be said this is more out of puzzlement than fascination.

Elsewhere the crowd was entertained by the mixture of music spilling out of the Jukebox.  Approaching the Jukebox is an act of courage itself - you will be judged based upon your song selection (music snobbery - it's a thing) and woe betide the individual who puts One Direction or Justin Bieber on.  The Tales also puts on regular theme nights of music, such as the Disco evening at the start of March to celebrate the last showing of Thriller at the Marlowe.

I like the Tales.  It's not the most fancy of pubs in Canterbury but it feels genuine, unpretentious and real.

Also the music selection is superb.  Sadly the vocal range of the customers isn't always as good.