Archive for the ‘Salisbury’ Tag
For what it’s worth, today we have beaten the Statutes of Limitations on most felonies in the United States: 7 years and a day since we moved to England. Here’s the breakdown of this most recent year (noting that the annual run review already covered the calendar year 2015 so this will be a relatively brief look back at the residence year).
Speaking of residence, we were granted Indefinite Leave to Remain in June. I visited 167 new pubs (plus 10 in the new Irish category) and ran slightly more than 2515 miles (including 86 miles in one go). There were trips to Maastricht, Tennessee & Atlanta, and Ireland (where we celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary). There were 22 new Fish and Chips entries to the blog (and 3 kebabs) but not a lot of experimentation in the kitchen (only 6 Recipes added).
Going into year 8 there are no goals, no major plans, and no great expectation of many new pub visits (unless we move house or I do a lot of travelling this year). Maybe I’ll try to write a little better…don’t hold your breath on that one, though.
Looking at annual recaps, past:
At 1 year, 290 pubs and impressions on British running, mostly in Cambridgeshire
2 years saw more maps (2000+ miles that year), travel, and 240 more pubs
3 years ended with 280 pubs and links about another house move
The 4th year ended with 255 more pubs, another house move, and some brilliant racing
Year 5 yielded 134 pubs, some decent travel, and yet another house move
The 6th year entry was very brief, but the anniversary kind of snuck up on me (only 95 pubs)
I had no luck getting fed at the Salisbury Food and Drink Festival as mentioned in the write-up for the local kebab stand that actually deigned to sell me some food (or, whatever it was that I brought back to the music tent — delicious, but really a mystery).
The beer tent was much easier to deal with and with a variety of ciders on offer I was soon seated in front of a jazz band and easily the youngest person in the crowd. I didn’t come down here for the festival which is good as it would have been a massive disappointment; as it turned out it was an okay way to kill the hour or so till my bus home was ready.
I tried to get food at three separate stalls in the Salisbury Food and Drink Festival but left each when people who came after me were served before. I just wanted something to soak up the alcohol from the five pub stops, so I went off the square to the nearest kebab place, Saray on the Endless Street.
It’s not great, but it was more substantial than a similar amount of money would have yielded back at The Event, which if not for the beer tent could have gone and fucked itself.
Good music, Hopback Brewery ales on tap, and middle-aged lechers chatting up young stuff at the bar. If I felt at home in the Village and the Cat, then Deacon’s was like another sort of home-away-from-home. I managed a souvenir from here, as well.
Except for the couple of old guys trying to pull the metalhead girl, I seemed to be the only person there alone. It’s probably as friendly as the other two but folks either came as a group or were on a mission. Short visit, but not necessarily the last one.
Only marginally closer to the rail station than the Village sits its slightly darker and rougher cousin, the Cat Tavern. I was in love with the place from the moment I entered.
I didn’t notice the hole in the roof but was just shooting the clutter at the top of the shelves. Gary (or Geoff) slapped me on the arm and demanded, “what are you taking a picture of that hole for?” “There’s a hole? I was taken by the clutter,” I responded with a sweeping arm movement.
“Oi, you’re an American? We like Americans,” Geoff (or Gary) piped in.
“Really? I don’t.”
They looked at each other and laughed and one said, “neither do we, really.”
My Black Rat arrived and Gary/Geoff/one of them commented, “good man, there, likes his cider.”
So, over the course of the pint I let them in on the Endless Pub Crawl and they asked where I had been in town and I limited it to the day’s journey. “Where to next?” and I told them the Bird In Hand. “That’s been closed for years.”
“What’s good nearby, then?”
They looked at each other and then back to me and as one said, “Deacon’s.”
The Village Free House is the shit. After the dismal Mill (dis-Mill?), I was pleased to find the delightful Duck but reckoned my luck would end there. Not at all the case as the Village lived up to everything the Reckless Engineer a few nights before posed as and ticked all my own bar boxes: seedy but friendly, great beer selection, and the gratuitous nudity was limited to photos of professional models and none of the fine, physical specimens attending in person:
Ii had a pint of Black Jesus because I like it but I knew that from ordering elsewhere because I liked the name (a point the next several customers pointed out, à la “ooo, I like that name but I think I’ll have…”).
I was speaking to one guy who was seated near a whippet that sprawled across the walkway to the toilets (I think the dog was just really relaxed, but it could well be some clever taxidermy) about the pub and he suggested the Cat Tavern, for comparison. Turns out, that was where I was heading next, anyway.
I love the building Stoby’s is in and as it had just opened for the day as I passed on my way to The Duck I felt compelled to grab a nosh. The fellow couldn’t have been friendlier, suggesting I do a bit of tourism for the five minutes the fish would take but what I really wanted to see was the upstairs. “Dining opens a little later. Sorry.”
What really matters, though, is the food and this was pretty good. I didn’t add any salt because chippy batters tend to already be salty but this one could actually have used it.
(Note: this post is a continuation of the 2014 Chippy Challenge, with all related entries linked to this map)