Last time we went to York, in the early days of this blog, Maieb (now Tweeting instead of blogging) told us in no uncertain terms that we really ought to make it to the Maltings. So, a couple of weeks back, finding ourselves nearby, in a heavy snowstorm, frostbite beginning to affect our extremities, we decided finally to take his advice.
It’s a very cosy pub — a place where the bark of passive-aggressive signs is definitely worse than the bite. There is a tongue-in-cheek tone to some of it (“Our staff are not highly trained — please treat them accordingly”) and the service was very friendly. It was standing room only, no doubt in part because of the roaring fire and huge portions of basic, tasty, piping hot old-school pub grub.
On the beer front, the highlight for us was Sawbridgeworth Stout — so thick and chocolatey we wanted churros to dip in it. As well as several cask ales, there was also a really well thought out selection of bottles and, in honour of the season, hot Gluhkriek, perfect for supping while the snow falls outside.
Yes, we are southern softies. It wasn’t really that cold. And this is yet another pub which we are the very last people in Britain to visit…