Pub grub. This unique style of "cuisine" has a special place in British life. But what is it? What defines good pub grub? Having spent a significant amounts of time eating in pubs over the last wee while, now is as good a time as any to try and work it out.
First things first, it is most emphatically not "cuisine", this belongs in the gastropub. I have mixed feelings about gastropubs. On the one hand, it makes high-quality dining accessible and reasonably priced. This will hopefully get people interested in food and eating opening a limitless world of pleasure and providing a stepping stone into the restaurant world. However pretty much the last thing a gastropub could be described as is a pub. By that I mean you couldn't go in and order a pint. There is a constant expectation to order food which inevitably becomes the main event. To be a proper pub, the focus must be on the ambiance, the atmosphere and the general conviviality of your surroundings. If food is involved, it should be a supplement.
The first, and main, thing a pub meal should be is good. Bad pub grub is diabolical and will not be discussed further!
Good pub grub is tasty and well made... but not over the top otherwise it will be a gastropub! Essentially what you're looking for is simple, traditional cooking that is well executed and hearty. A typical pub menu will include dishes like Sheppard's pie, scampi and chips, fish and chips, steak pie, burgers, macaroni cheese, a ploughman's lunch (the contents of which are a whole different post), a range of sandwiches and for token exotic dishes a chilli con carne and lasagne.
This is a bit of a double edged sword. On one hand these dishes are traditional and well-known to the point of being mundane. This means that people know what to expect and the dishes have to be spot on to live up to expectation. On the other, it means that people won't be distracted from the social setting by trying to puzzle over the food.
Examples of good include chips: not too big but not too small and nice and crispy. Batter should be nicely crispy, not soggy (a very big must, soggy batter can only be excused from a fish and chip shop) and the macaroni cheese can't bee too stodgy. Essentially, what is needed is the proverbial "mum's cooking" at it's peak.
One pub I've eaten in recently got the quality of the cooking perfect but they spoiled it a wee bit by having dishes that were erring on the pretentious side; gnocci bolognase and thai fishcakes with wasabi sauce. It made the whole pub seem like it was trying too hard. Perversely, another pub I was at recently served beef bourginon (god knows if that's how you spell it) and one or two other exotic dishes still hit the pub grub marker perfectly. This is probably because you pass the kitchen on the way in from the carpark and can look in on the ladies in the kitchen cooking their heart out. It's a farmhouse kitchen scaled up a bit (fitting in perfectly with the thatched roof and the picturesque garden). The food is excellent, well cooked, nicely seasoned, well proportioned and yet you don't feel too guilty about slipping a couple of chunks of the meat to the pub dog that's ambling around. What more could you want?
Portion size is another important factor. Where pub food is concerned, more is more and more still is appreciated. Save the small portions for expensive french places with rude waiters and bring me a portion of onion rings while you're at it.
Accompaniments are essential too. Chips are pretty much a must, mashed potatoes as a distant second. Salad is there for decorative purposes only. Peas are arguable either way. Onion rings and garlic bread as side orders add depth (but reduce your chances of getting off with anyone).
It also can't be too expensive. The upper end of the menu shouldn't be much over a tenner. In most cases I would say that you should have enough change from your main course to buy a pint afterwards.
Before I get completely lost in some rambling essay on pub food, let me encapsulate what pub food is all about. It's a bit of a treat but one that can be had without feeling guilty. Can't be bothered cooking? Let's nip down to the local. Sunday lunch? Drive into the country and get a good-sized roast and a pint in the garden overlooking the countryside. It's an indulgence that can be done during the week to lessen the drudgery of office life (and the onion rings cover the smell of the pint on your breath) but doesn't feel so indulgent that it can't be justified. Really, what's not to love?
JR
First things first, it is most emphatically not "cuisine", this belongs in the gastropub. I have mixed feelings about gastropubs. On the one hand, it makes high-quality dining accessible and reasonably priced. This will hopefully get people interested in food and eating opening a limitless world of pleasure and providing a stepping stone into the restaurant world. However pretty much the last thing a gastropub could be described as is a pub. By that I mean you couldn't go in and order a pint. There is a constant expectation to order food which inevitably becomes the main event. To be a proper pub, the focus must be on the ambiance, the atmosphere and the general conviviality of your surroundings. If food is involved, it should be a supplement.
The first, and main, thing a pub meal should be is good. Bad pub grub is diabolical and will not be discussed further!
Good pub grub is tasty and well made... but not over the top otherwise it will be a gastropub! Essentially what you're looking for is simple, traditional cooking that is well executed and hearty. A typical pub menu will include dishes like Sheppard's pie, scampi and chips, fish and chips, steak pie, burgers, macaroni cheese, a ploughman's lunch (the contents of which are a whole different post), a range of sandwiches and for token exotic dishes a chilli con carne and lasagne.
This is a bit of a double edged sword. On one hand these dishes are traditional and well-known to the point of being mundane. This means that people know what to expect and the dishes have to be spot on to live up to expectation. On the other, it means that people won't be distracted from the social setting by trying to puzzle over the food.
Examples of good include chips: not too big but not too small and nice and crispy. Batter should be nicely crispy, not soggy (a very big must, soggy batter can only be excused from a fish and chip shop) and the macaroni cheese can't bee too stodgy. Essentially, what is needed is the proverbial "mum's cooking" at it's peak.
One pub I've eaten in recently got the quality of the cooking perfect but they spoiled it a wee bit by having dishes that were erring on the pretentious side; gnocci bolognase and thai fishcakes with wasabi sauce. It made the whole pub seem like it was trying too hard. Perversely, another pub I was at recently served beef bourginon (god knows if that's how you spell it) and one or two other exotic dishes still hit the pub grub marker perfectly. This is probably because you pass the kitchen on the way in from the carpark and can look in on the ladies in the kitchen cooking their heart out. It's a farmhouse kitchen scaled up a bit (fitting in perfectly with the thatched roof and the picturesque garden). The food is excellent, well cooked, nicely seasoned, well proportioned and yet you don't feel too guilty about slipping a couple of chunks of the meat to the pub dog that's ambling around. What more could you want?
Portion size is another important factor. Where pub food is concerned, more is more and more still is appreciated. Save the small portions for expensive french places with rude waiters and bring me a portion of onion rings while you're at it.
Accompaniments are essential too. Chips are pretty much a must, mashed potatoes as a distant second. Salad is there for decorative purposes only. Peas are arguable either way. Onion rings and garlic bread as side orders add depth (but reduce your chances of getting off with anyone).
It also can't be too expensive. The upper end of the menu shouldn't be much over a tenner. In most cases I would say that you should have enough change from your main course to buy a pint afterwards.
Before I get completely lost in some rambling essay on pub food, let me encapsulate what pub food is all about. It's a bit of a treat but one that can be had without feeling guilty. Can't be bothered cooking? Let's nip down to the local. Sunday lunch? Drive into the country and get a good-sized roast and a pint in the garden overlooking the countryside. It's an indulgence that can be done during the week to lessen the drudgery of office life (and the onion rings cover the smell of the pint on your breath) but doesn't feel so indulgent that it can't be justified. Really, what's not to love?
JR
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