My introduction to exciting food was at the local pub in Fifefield, the Cotswolds (near my Granny's house). I think I was all of six when I ordered my first frog's legs and escargot from the daring pub menu. I'll never forget the excitement of ordering my own food, seeing it arrive on a huge plate and eating amongst the grown ups in our dark, cosy corner by the fire.
Pub food in England can be some of the best in the country. Jamie Oliver had his start cooking in his parent's pub if that tells you anything. These indigenous treasures are pumping out grub with flair all over the country and giving the high end restaurants a run for their money. Most of the ales and food is locally sourced, giving each pub it's own unique feel.
We didn't flock to any of the famed spots but chose to pop into whatever pub that tickled our fancy (read: ones that matched our meal timing). Messing with children's hunger is not something you want to unleash on a crowd of lunching Brits. We got it wrong a few times and found ourselves squirming alongside our wild and hungry kids.
Here are some of the bites we bit along the way.
Liver and onions on a bed of mash. Charlie's choice, but I made sure to eat half.
Local beet and whipped goat's cheese salad. A surprisingly light offering.
British beef tartare. A little heavy on the ketchup for moi.
I ordered escargot at a pub in the Cotswolds. I was hoping to re-live that moment back when I was six. Instead, Sophia scarfed the whole lot back herself.
Sophia enjoys food she has to work for like escargot. Alfie enjoys all types of implements. He almost left holding the escargot pincers. I had to pluck them from his grubby hands.
Our little stag waiting patiently for his late lunch.
Life is hard. Sometimes you have to cry.
There you have it. I love pubs.