Several years ago one of my closest friends moved to a tiny village in
Devon - and I mean tiny. it doesn't have a single shop, but what it does
have is a pub.
The Drake Manor Inn is the centre of the community;
my friend worked there for a while and even got to know her husband
there. 'The pub' as everyone calls it (it almost doesn't need a name)
hosts the village New Year's Eve party, serves as the venue for
community meetings (like the local cider makers club) , sells pints of
milk as there is nowhere else nearby to get one if you've run out and
even offers accommodation ( one room above the pub).
An English
folk singer who I won't name as I don't think he'd appreciate it grew up
there and his parents still live there, and he has been known to give
impromptu performances in the pub.
I'd been to the pub a few
times when visiting my friend and remembered the very low ceilings and
the outdoor toilet (men's - thankfully the ladies is inside) but had
never eaten there. This time I was visiting my friend and her new baby
during the day so said I would treat us to lunch and she suggested the
pub. I later found out that was the fourth time that week she had eaten
lunch there!
I was impressed by the breadth of the menu and the
sound of dishes like chicken with a spice rub; not as run of the mill as
I had expected. In fact the pub prides itself on its food. I was going
to have a baguette or the plough mans until my friend recommended the
vegetarian lasagne - butternut squash, spinach and goats cheese. It came
in a round dish piping hot from the oven on a plate with salad and
garlic bread. The lasagne - homemade of course - was delicious. My
friend had the same thing while my boyfriend, the world's most un
adventurous eater, had a cheese burger. He had been expecting something
snack sized as it was under the 'pub bites' section of the menu and only
cost about £6 or £7, whereas the main meals part of the menu had a more
expensive pulled pork burger. But his meal was huge!
The meal for
three plus soft drinks came to £32- excellent value for money as we
weren't even hungry by dinner time (though my mum, who we then went on
to visit, cooked us dinner anyway).
If you remember to duck when
you stand up, and can find somewhere to park, this is a great place to
stop for lunch or go for a drink - it's the sort of place where everyone
knows everyone else, but rather than strangers being eyed with
suspicion, they are greeted, asked where they are from and drawn into
the conversation. And you may be surprised at who you end up talking to -
what were the chances
that the man at the bar (who my friend knew as Geoff from down the road)
was the now-retired West Country correspondent for - my former employer, the Daily
Telegraph?
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