Branca - Oxford

When I'm old and have little more to do than dress and ride the bus for free from 9.00am, my dream - the dream - is to own a restaurant. Not a restaurant to be involved in and not a restaurant aiming for Michelin level food. One that I can shuffle to every day for lunch, sit in my corner, and wait until closing.

It's an Italian stereotype - the old man alone at the lone table sipping wine, beer, coffee, or hovering a spoon above cold soup. He's never going to move and no-one is ever going to take his place. Why? Because he's the owner.

And if I had to choose that restaurant today, it would be Branca. 

In the heart of Oxford's fashionable Jericho, Branca serves the sort of food I could eat everyday and the sort of cocktails I could drink every minute. We last visited the week before Christmas, when they were  setting the place for multiple Christmas parties. Managing to negotiate the use of a table for a short time, we shared a starter of antipasti, then liver and lamb mains. The lamb was slightly too rich, served with potatoes dauphinoise and a syrup like gravy - I was glad the starter had been light. There was also confusion around the greens. Spinach, chili and garlic were said to be the only thing available, before the lamb was then presented with broccoli. Perhaps they knew this sweet dinner needed an additional green balance.

No pudding or coffee as the coin in the tables metre had expired. Probably a good thing as I was sorely tempted by another mango caipirinha.

The Anchor - Oxford

Good pubs and good bar staff should appreciate detail. In a 'top' London drinkery I've watched as beer dribbled down my glass on to the solid steel beneath, pooling at the base where a beer mat should have been. When beer is served in a sparkling glass, taken back to the pump to ensure that the foam reaches the rim, and then placed carefully in front of you, you gladly hand your money over. When the bar man can advise on the perfect drink for your mood without referring to a brewery placed placard (a masterclass of which was delivered in The Prince of Wales, Ledbury), you itch to tell your friends. Attention to detail brings business.

The Anchor - in Oxford's much idoloised inner-suburb of Jericho - delivers on detail. Traipsing in from the cold after an hour of football to find the embers of a log fire glowing and a half-pint of Wadworth's 6X (4.3%) placed within an inch of my right-hand is perfection pubsonified.

Those from further-a-field often consider The Anchor to be solely a restaurant. The locals have other ideas, treating this as a regular pub. It's both, and done well. Taking the old school approach and having (shock!) more than one bar, The Anchor keeps the Good Food Guide crowd away from those just seeking liquid refreshment with the simple intervention of a wall. Drinks on the left, meals on the right. Ace.

The Victoria - Oxford

Every couple of years there appears to be a new drinks trend. When England last had a summer, pints of cider and ice seemed to be the order of the day. Now it's (alcoholic) ginger beer.

If TV ad revenue is anything to go by, ginger beer = Crabbies (4%). However, The Victoria - a large red brick pub 15 minutes walk from Oxford train station - serves Ginger Joe (4%), a drink rarely seen elsewhere. Neither are craft beers, produced by the makers of Labrini and Babycham respectively; but, it can't be argued that Ginger Joe with ice and lime isn't both tasty and refreshing.

Owning a portfolio of drinks guarantees revenue regardless of the weather. The Victoria, with it's front garden, rear garden, and seats around the coal fire is in a similar position. On a sunny Friday evening or weekend afternoon this pub overflows with punters, although not a soul sits along it's wooden bar. On a cold Tuesday lunch-time, the gardens are empty, but the tables inside surrounded by people sampling delicious pies. And now that the temperature has dropped again, most will be back on the ale.