A farewell to Oxford

Various

Better than any travel guide you'd care to read, one anecdote sums up Oxford perfectly. Visiting our local one afternoon, I found Bill Clinton sat in the back room, dressed in white, eating fish and chips, and flanked by no less than fifteen bodyguards. After finishing a pint of Fuller's London Pride (4.1%), charming a few old ladies, and exchanging banter with the locals, Bill left and pushed his way outside through a gaggle of American tourist to a waiting car. A typical weekday in Oxford.

It's ironic that the Mini was designed and built in Oxford. This is a city in tiny form. Everything is here within a single square mile: from China Town, to the West End, to 'ethnic town'. It makes a pub crawl near impossible, as you can drink five pints in the same number of metres. 

A cliche, but Oxford is a city of contrasts. The ancient buildings of possibly the most famous university in the world freeze tourists to the spot in awe; residents barely give them a second glance. Some of those same residents have the accent of a West Country farm hand; others that of a West Country landowner. That same university has an almost ancient Christian heritage; yet May Day is still the biggest festival of the year. The west of the city is one giant cow filled meadow; the south, one giant housing estate. The Cowley car plant is a state-of-the-art German owned facility producing mile after mile of Mini Coopers; the local brewers could probably run their delivers from a single mini.  

Oxford has spawned a disproportionately high number of artists: Lewis Carroll, Tolkein, Philip Pullman, Radiohead, Supergrass, to name a few. And they keep coming, with Foals, Stornoway, and others. The same can be said for brewing, where you have the established brands of Hook Norton, Wychwood, and Brakspear, alongside the new comers: Oxfordshire Ales, The Shotover Brewing Company, and Compass Brewery.

Aside from drinking a pint three feet from a former president, whilst in Oxford I've had Pimm's with monks on the lawn of Trinity College, a beer or two with a former CIA director, blacktie dinner at Blenheim, and meals at countless colleges. My employers have sent me from Oxford to The Hague, Istanbul, and New York. I've been up early running with the cows in Port Meadow and up late drinking in the Jamaican bar. For all my friends - residents and non-residents alike - criticise Oxford for being provincial, it's certainly provides some interesting experiences.

Sitting in the White Rabbit one lunchtime I was asked, if you could take one pub from Oxford with you, which would it be.

The Victoria immediately sprang to mind, with it's brilliant pies, ever changing ales, chilled glasses, and attentive staff. It probably just about edges it, but the more I thought, the more pubs flooded my mind, each the best for different occasions.

On a sunny day avoid The Trout like the plague and instead head to the benches at the front of The Plough in Upper Wolvercote. Alternatively, walk along The Thames to the lawn of The Isis Tavern, a quiet drink at the back of The Gardeners Arms in Jericho, or join the students in the garden of Cafe Tariffa on Cowley Road. 

If you're looking for a tourist's taste of Oxford, you can't go wrong with The Turf Tavern, The King's Arms, The Head of the River, or The Bear Inn. At each you will have to fight for a seat; although, in the dead of winter, the cold scares the tourists from The Turf Tavern, and you can sit outside with mulled wine and marshmallows in front of a roaring brazier. 

For a night out, definitely steer clear of George Street (except for a trip to The Grapes) and the west of the city. Instead, Duke of Cambridge in Jericho offers up great cocktails, and Raul's in Jericho offers up exceptional cocktails, albeit with limited space. Cowley Road is really the only option for a late night; there are enough Moroccan bars to shake a fez at, a couple of unremarkable clubs, and a Jamaican bar which never seems to close.

Oxford is possibly bucking the national trend for declining pubs. Pubs close and re-open weeks later in a much better state. The St Aldates Tavern, The Library, The Rickety Press, The Magdalen Arms, and The White Rabbit all replaced mainly hideous pubs which were never going to last much longer. And they keep coming, with Jacob's Inn in Wolvercote possibly the latest new food and drinking hotspot within the ring road.

All-in-all, I'll miss Oxford's many, many drinking and culinary options. London, of course, surpasses Oxford with number and range, but being a small town (city) of only 150,000 people, there is a hell of a lot on offer.

The Golden Eagle - Marylebone

59 Marylebone Ln, London W1U 2NY

Just off Oxford Street there's a pub which proudly proclaims in mile-high letters above the door to be 'A Traditional Pub'. I've never visited this pub and it may be one of the best in London. Given the location, I can see the appeal of a sign which will attract throngs of Japanese tourists to stand outside taking photographs and perhaps even buy a drink. However, it strikes me that a truly traditional pub wouldn't have such a sign: by virtue of the fact that it's not a traditional thing for a pub to do. A publicans Catch-22 if you will.

Not a long skip away there is a truly traditional pub. Nestled beside the fancy restaurants, expensive handbag shops, and orange Lamborghinis of Marylebone sits The Golden Eagle. This is a pub where the doors are taller than the floor is wide, where the carpet is worn to threads where the regulars stand, and an ageing pianist with the middle-name of 'Fingers' hammers out old cockney classics, including the underplayed 'Hitler Has Only Got One Ball'. 

The Eagle is like a living exhibit from the Imperial War Museum. Nicholas Lyndhurst sits at the bar in a trilby, white crosses of tape adorn the windows, and a small boy will run in shouting that El Alamein has fallen if you stand still for long enough.

Judging by the neighbours, you would have thought that high rates would have forced this waxwork back to Lambeth. References to the barman's name suggest that a loyal clientele keep the place going, and perhaps post-work drinks on a Friday inject sufficient cash to cover the quiet times. Being such a 'traditional' pub though, were it to consider closing the European Union should surely step in with a cultural subsidy; but then perhaps 'Fingers' would need to lay off the teutonophobic songs.

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.

Ledbury, Ludlow, Wigmore - Herefordshire

I think of Oxfordshire as being countrified, but at an hour from London and with flights (almost) direct to New York, it's positively cosmopolitan. 90 miles west, through the Cotswolds, over the Malvern Hills, and pressed against the border with Wales, the county of Herefordshire is the true definition of 'country'. Here, road are caked in thick red mud and towns and villages float as islands in a sea of pasture, furrows and orchards. 

Driving as the crow flies, we passed along A-roads, weaving between the town of Cheltenham and the city of Gloucester. Ledbury was our first stop, with The Prince of Wales marked in the pub guide. A tiny entrance along a quintessentially English cobbled alleyway opens in to a large pub with two rooms around a central bar, a kitchen serving homemade pies, and a knolwedgable barman offering help with the drinks selection. And it was needed. A number of local ales on tap, ciders, and a changing list of imported lagers are on offer. I settled for Butcombe Bitter (4.0%), mellow and light alongside the steak and ale pie.

North from Ledbury, we spent two nights in Wigmore at Pear Tree Farm. A delightfully rustic farm house, with large fires and a nod to the local Wigmore Castle in the flagstone floored dining room. Homemade bread, cake, tea at four, three course dinner (worth every pound), and a full english the next morning to match. A great retreat.

The Saturday was spent in Ludlow, just across the county border in Shropshire. The very stereotype of a town that every tourist expects to see in England. Perched a-top a hill, with rolling countryside and forests in every direction, Ludlow sports a high walled castle, a river, narrow streets and shops selling tweed a-plenty. After a 6-mile hike to the top of the nearest hill, and back down again, we settled in for crisps and cider (the local delicacies) at The Church Inn. A bustling pub on a Saturday, again local ales and ciders on tap. I resisted the £3.50 three half-pint ale taster option and went for Robinson's Flagon Cider (4.5%). Crisp and zingy.

The journey home was made via The Jolly Frog - a French restaurant specialising in seafood, perched on the side of a wind-swept hill overlooking the village of Leintwardine. We also took a short stop at The Golden Heart Inn at the brilliantly named Nettleton Bottom, just south of Gloucester. Otter Bitter (3.6%) alongside a lamb shank.

All-in-all, a perfect escape for the palette.

Oxjam Oxford Takeover 2012 - Oxford

Even though the standard quiz night still seems popular, many pubs and bars are trying novel ways of enticing punters through the door. On Saturday 13th October, the Oxjam Oxford Takeover saw four venues in Oxford host an extensive list of local bands. A charitable event, but for each venue Oxjam brings a larger than usual crowd and the potential to gain some new 'regulars'.

The top floor of the Turl Street Kitchen - another charitable project at the north end of the quintessentially-Oxford Turl Street - is a private function space and makes for an intimate music venue. The ground floor bar set-out like a living room is open day and night, serving coffee to Mac browsing students who then return for something stronger later on. A large selection of whiskey is on offer and there are a couple of ales on tap, including their own Turl Street Stout (4.3%) and Rebellion IPA (3.7%). A good place to visit out of term time.

Next on the list was Modern Art Oxford - tucked down a small side street to the side of the Westgate Shopping Centre. A lively cafe which doubles as a bar, it's much better to visit during the summer months when the covered outdoor space ('The Yard') is set with tables and chairs. They serve beer from local brewers Compass Brewery and The Cotswold Brewing Company. The former offered up Baltic Night Stout (4.8%); a pleasant beer considering that craft stouts are often too strong in flavour. Possibly not one I would have chosen for a basement gig, but then for once I wasn't buying.

St. Aldates Tavern - Oxford

Drinks after work are a political business. The venue, the permitted guests, the timing - attempting to change any of these variables can have mass implications for your 'standing' at work.

Last week, an attempt was made to move from the cosy back-room seats at The Bear Inn to the newly opened St. Aldates Tavern approximately 200 metres away. The justification? Although great in the summer, The Bear has a lack of seating on a Friday post-6.00pm. Simple enough, but a cause for concern amongst many of the regulars who gazed with a mixture of fear and bewilderment at the new establishment.

The result? A success for some, disappointment for others. I was in the former camp, enjoying the Tavern's space, clean feel, hustle and bustle atmosphere, and choice of beers. I opted for The White Horse Brewery Bitter (3.7%). Disappointment stemmed from the overzealous use of the heating and the lack of ketchup for chips - seemingly trivial, but clearly important factors for some.

We may be back next Friday...

The Crown & Sceptre - Shepherds Bush, London

'Build it and they will come' is a quote frequently misattributed to Field of Dreams; it's also the antithesis to the theory of 'location, location, location', and completely apt when it comes to a pubs success.

In Shepherd's Bush - an area of West London the opposite side of the tracks to Kensington, Notting Hill, and Holland Park - the walk from Goldhawk Road tube station to The Crown & Sceptre on Goodwin Road not only takes ten minutes at a pace, but passes at least 8 other pubs.

Being tucked down a maze of suburban streets and being a mile from the tube are not ticks in the location box. Fuller's Ale and Thai food are nothing which couldn't be replicated elsewhere. However, it's the combination of friendly staff, reliable food, clean surroundings, and generally good atmosphere which make this pub worth passing so many other publicans' doors to get too.

The Bear Inn - Oxford

I once ordered a pint of Fuller's London Pride (4.1%) in a New York bar. When presented with some 50 different beers to choose from, and suffering from mild jet-lag, I stuck to what I knew.

Bland brand beer owes it's existence to this phenomenon. People stick to what they know in unfamiliar situations, but also to remove the danger of the unknown - the disappointment of a bad taste or the social stigma from ordering something different. On the same visit to New York, I avoided the Guinness in an Irish bar, only to be served a pint of Blue Moon (5.4%) complete with orange segment. Not the done thing.

When it comes to the post-work drink the same theory applies. There are pubs galore in Oxford: riverside pubs (The Head of the River), suburban pubs (The Victoria), small cosy pubs (The White Horse), and even a vegetarian pub (The Gardners Arm). Over a year's worth of Fridays I could visit every pub in Oxford. But I don't. For the sake of proximity, I choose The Bear Inn - every time.

It's a charming pub. One of Oxford's oldest, it sits aside the historic Christ Church College, just off the High Street. Adorned with cuts from old college ties (a form of payment many years ago, apparently) and featuring an extremely low ceilings, this place attracts the tourists during the day and the office workers in the evening. Consequently, a seat is rare, and when I recently stepped in to find Bill Clinton and his entourage in residence, they were even rarer. The beer on tap is limited to Fuller's, plus one seasonal ale. Of course, I stick to what I know - Fuller's London Pride (4.1%) .

If you're crawling the streets of Oxford, this pub should be in the top 10. If it's raining, don't expect a seat.

BrewDog and the Lass o' Gowrie - Manchester

'On the 6th day, God created Manchester' - so reads the famous inscription outside Afflex's Palace. If true, a large portion of that day was taken up building the cities pubs. The choice in Manchester is over-whelming: stay in the central districts of Piccadilly, Canal Street, or Deansgate; crawl down Oxford Road; or venture out to the suburbs. As expected, dominating the main roads, with their garish fronts and bright lights, the bad stick out; whilst hidden down the many darkened alleys not often ventured, the good tend to hide.

An exception to this rule is BrewDog Manchester. A new arrival in the city, BrewDog sits a short walk from St Peter's Square and the impressive Central Library, directly opposite the site of the infamous Peterloo Massacre. Full glass windows, tall bar stools, and minimalist concrete decor make this a cool, clean spot for a drink. BrewDog - a Scottish brewery - are well known for pushing the delights of high strength ale. However, their crowning achievement has to be their promotion of taste and range in beer - not just ABV. A pint of Dead Pony Club (3.8%) sits alongside the mainstays of Punk IPA (5.6%) and 5am Saint (5.6%), as well as the super strong home-brew and guest ales. Beer is here for every, and any, time of day and occasion. And if you're new to craft beer, a taster menu is a great option.

The idea of a good selection of tasty beers isn't a totally new concept, just one mainstream drinkers have forgotten. Located to the south of the city centre, behind BBC Manchester, the Lass o' Gowrie is an award winning pub - and an institution for many Mancunians. With a strong list of core ales, supplemented by guests, this is as a traditional pub should be. Dark wood, low tables, big screen football, friendly staff, and (seemingly) an event every night of the week. This place is a gem, easily missed by those who don't turn off the Oxford Road or venture from the centre. But at only a fifteen minute walk from Piccadilly, or a couple of quid train ride to Oxford Road Station, 'The Lass' should not be missed.

The Coach and Horses - Norwich

It’s a common misconception that Norwich is flat. The Fens – a seemingly endless stretch of perfectly flat fields – finish some 30 miles west of the city and a train journey from London, via the Olympic Park, Colchester, and Ipswich offers not a glimpse of the famous Anglian dykes and canals. Instead, Norwich City Centre features a number of hills, atop one sits The Coach and Horses – and the Chalk Hill Brewery contained within.

Due east of the station and flanked by offices, The Coach and Horses boasts uninspiring views of the Carrow Road stadium and a retail park from its beer garden. Inside, the pub is steamy on a match day with large-screen TVs and beer served in pitchers. Although Norwich is a strong market for craft beer, the locals seem to opt for the mainstream – Fosters, Carling, etc. It’s a shame. A pint of Brewery Tap (3.6%) dampened the memory of the two overpriced cans of Heinken sipped throughout the 2-hour train journey. Well worth the hill climb.