I worked at home last Friday just because I could, and by the end of a longer-than-expected day I was hungry and ready to get out of the house. I took my stuffy head and runny nose with me out into the drizzle and headed up to the village local for, I thought, a quick pint and a bite. (Of course, I ended up staggering home six hours later after an impromptu solo pub crawl, never having gotten that bite. But that’s a different story.)
We consider The Holly Bush to be our village “local,” even though it’s not quite as local as we’d like. The Holly Bush is eight tenths of a mile from our flat by the shortest route (which involves a muddy slog up a hidden alleyway), and nine tenths of a mile by our usual pram-friendly route—either way, it's a solid 20-minute walk, mostly uphill. In contrast, there’s a pub on Finchley Road called The Castle that’s only four-tenths of a mile away, and one in West Hampstead called The Lion that’s seven-tenths of a mile away. In fact, even The Old Bull & Bush is a mere half mile walk, and that pleasantly across the Heath.
But there is no place quite like The Holly Bush. For starters, it is the only pub in London (so far) to which I have some sentimental attachment. The Holly Bush, you see, was also my local pub when I spent a semester studying here in 1985 (our flat is only a few hundred yards from the college I attended). That time was as eye opening and life changing for me as Lucinda’s year in London seems to have been for her, and I remember those six months fondly.
Then there is the pub itself. Its location is unique, tucked away on a quiet cul-de-sac at the top of Holly Mount, accessible from the High Street only by a steep stairway or an uphill climb along a narrow road. The result is that, although it sits only 100 yards from Hampstead Tube station, it has a decidedly quiet, country-pub feel.
And the building is worthy of its location. The pub was built in 1643 as the stables of a house later owned by painter George Romney; shortly after Romney’s death in 1802, the stables were converted to a tavern, and pints have been pouring here since 1807. Artist John Constable (who is buried at nearby St. John-at-Hampstead Church) gave an art lecture here in the early 19th Century; physicist Michael Faraday (who refused internment in Westminster Abbey, and is buried instead across the Heath in Highgate Cemetery) participated in a gas-lit debate here on whether electricity might prove useful. There are rumors that Samuel Johnson and Boswell drank here, and that the ghost of a long-departed waitress still takes the occasional food order.
The Holly Bush is now a Fuller’s pub, so one should expect that most or all of the five cask ales would be Fuller’s products. On this visit, they were pouring Fuller’s London Pride, ESB, Discovery and Seafarer’s. They have also always had Harvey’s Sussex Bitter available when I have been there, and in fact The Holly Bush is reputed to pour the best pint of Sussex in London. (I have not yet had the opportunity to verify that claim.) A pint of Sussex from The Holly Bush is indeed a fine bitter beer.
If I have a complaint about The Holly Bush, it’s that the gastro portion of the business has become too dominant – specifically, the pub accepts bookings for most of its tables for diners, including those in the very popular coffee bar. This can leave the drop-in punter feeling a bit squeezed out on a busy evening, as there are relatively few tables and it is a popular pub. On the other hand, having had an excellent (if pricey) braised venison shank and a superior steak-and-ale pie here, we would have few qualms about booking a table ourselves if we were looking for a place to eat and drink, rather than just to drink.
Update: We returned to The Holly Bush for dinner again last Saturday night and we were pleased. We tend to eat early by London standards (the better to accomodate Jack), and yet the place already was buzzing with a Saturday-before-Christmas vibe. Sure enough, our dinner was pleasantly interrupted by a round of communal caroling as the village choir came to call.
Score a big one for The Holly Bush -- although they never received our reservation and despite the crowd, they found us a table promptly. (We made our reservation through Toptable; this is the second time we've had trouble with reservations made through them.) We started with a very nice terrine of foie gras and chutney dish. For her main, Heidi again had the steak-and-ale pie, which looked so appetizing that it tempted the drinkers nearby to cancel their dinner plans elsewhere to get their own. My roasted lamb breast was equally attractive, and although the cut was fatty and the texture a bit chewy, the flavor was very good.
Update: We returned to The Holly Bush for dinner again last Saturday night and we were pleased. We tend to eat early by London standards (the better to accomodate Jack), and yet the place already was buzzing with a Saturday-before-Christmas vibe. Sure enough, our dinner was pleasantly interrupted by a round of communal caroling as the village choir came to call.
Score a big one for The Holly Bush -- although they never received our reservation and despite the crowd, they found us a table promptly. (We made our reservation through Toptable; this is the second time we've had trouble with reservations made through them.) We started with a very nice terrine of foie gras and chutney dish. For her main, Heidi again had the steak-and-ale pie, which looked so appetizing that it tempted the drinkers nearby to cancel their dinner plans elsewhere to get their own. My roasted lamb breast was equally attractive, and although the cut was fatty and the texture a bit chewy, the flavor was very good.
The Verdict: There is no question that The Holly Bush will be on the pub crawl, and will likely be the first (and possibly final) destination.
No comments:
Post a Comment