Pub review
They say:
"Very nice pint good head chilled meals hot roll on eating inside I'd recommend this pub and it's getting lots of outdoor seating under cover with heating be rally romantic come autumn children's play area safe flooring plenty of parking." --Blackthorn Twigs
5/5
I say:
All it took to normalise the hitherto luxurious exoticism of table service in bars and pubs was a worldwide pandemic. It does feel a little off and somehow not proper in a pub but then my fantastical image of the perfect pub is crystallising (or fossilising) in my mind, aided not a little by these reviews. If I should become irresponsibly wealthy one day and escape my life of quiet desperation then I can see myself building such a pub. Touring reclamation yards for great slabs of aged dark wood that would glower over slate floors insulated by faded persian rugs. Unfussy open fireplaces stoked by urchins on uneconomic wages. Armchairs. Pewter mugs on hooks and not a single dish on the menu invented after 1890. Strictly no piped music, excepting some pipes on Burns night, just a fella with a fiddle in the corner. I think combining the best of English, Irish and Scots traditions in a pub might be rather wonderful. I'll hire some Welsh bar staff. The Quantock isn't quite like that. It sits at the limit of my range of Bridgwater pubs, 15 minutes walk from the centre of town. It's a spacious Greene King affair and not old but, with large single glazed sash windows and beam vaulted ceiling, some aesthetic care has been taken. I find an even corner-ier corner than usual and start to dry out from Storm Barra. Standard music plays and the TV on the wall in front of me relentlessly reminds me of the new covid restrictions via BBC News 24. As I've now made a habit of insomnia in Bridgwater my mind is a fuzzy mess of gloom and glee glomming for any thought or feeling that might anchor me to the living world. But i'm in the netherworld, the shadow realm of Tuesday and Wednesday where my days begin and end far from home. A place where my waking hours (which is all of them) are less my own than at any other time. Like a lock-in in at and empty pub. Much like this place is becoming. Anyway, it's a dinner pub with none of the regular drinkers the pubs in the town centre entertain. The most heated arguments this place ever see is over who is driving. I could offer a food review as I ate here but it's the standard Greene King offering. My only real disappointment is that the battered salmon with hollandaise sauce wasn't on. Truly a dish of inspiration and horror. As rain starts flecking the windows again and the christmas lights gamely twinkle in the wind I step back into Barra's cold embrace.
3/5
They say:
"Very nice pint good head chilled meals hot roll on eating inside I'd recommend this pub and it's getting lots of outdoor seating under cover with heating be rally romantic come autumn children's play area safe flooring plenty of parking." --Blackthorn Twigs
5/5
I say:
All it took to normalise the hitherto luxurious exoticism of table service in bars and pubs was a worldwide pandemic. It does feel a little off and somehow not proper in a pub but then my fantastical image of the perfect pub is crystallising (or fossilising) in my mind, aided not a little by these reviews. If I should become irresponsibly wealthy one day and escape my life of quiet desperation then I can see myself building such a pub. Touring reclamation yards for great slabs of aged dark wood that would glower over slate floors insulated by faded persian rugs. Unfussy open fireplaces stoked by urchins on uneconomic wages. Armchairs. Pewter mugs on hooks and not a single dish on the menu invented after 1890. Strictly no piped music, excepting some pipes on Burns night, just a fella with a fiddle in the corner. I think combining the best of English, Irish and Scots traditions in a pub might be rather wonderful. I'll hire some Welsh bar staff. The Quantock isn't quite like that. It sits at the limit of my range of Bridgwater pubs, 15 minutes walk from the centre of town. It's a spacious Greene King affair and not old but, with large single glazed sash windows and beam vaulted ceiling, some aesthetic care has been taken. I find an even corner-ier corner than usual and start to dry out from Storm Barra. Standard music plays and the TV on the wall in front of me relentlessly reminds me of the new covid restrictions via BBC News 24. As I've now made a habit of insomnia in Bridgwater my mind is a fuzzy mess of gloom and glee glomming for any thought or feeling that might anchor me to the living world. But i'm in the netherworld, the shadow realm of Tuesday and Wednesday where my days begin and end far from home. A place where my waking hours (which is all of them) are less my own than at any other time. Like a lock-in in at and empty pub. Much like this place is becoming. Anyway, it's a dinner pub with none of the regular drinkers the pubs in the town centre entertain. The most heated arguments this place ever see is over who is driving. I could offer a food review as I ate here but it's the standard Greene King offering. My only real disappointment is that the battered salmon with hollandaise sauce wasn't on. Truly a dish of inspiration and horror. As rain starts flecking the windows again and the christmas lights gamely twinkle in the wind I step back into Barra's cold embrace.
3/5
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