Just Say Hello and Smile

One of the things that is often overlooked when it comes to pub appeal is what is sometimes called "Engagement with customers" or in old fashioned terms, the welcome.

One of the first things I was taught when I became a part time barman back in the early 70s was how to welcome customers.  The Boss, an old school landlord and  stickler for such stuff, was very keen that things should be "done right".  First lesson. Rule number one. When a customer comes in and approaches the bar, no matter what you are doing, you look up and say "Hello" or "I'll be right with you" or some such other nicety.  He explained it as putting the customer at his ease; setting the tone. That kind of thing.  The second was to let people waiting at the bar know they had been seen.  You would preferably say "you're next", or second or whatever. And yes, you were expected to know whose turn it was and if you ever said "Who's next?" you'd be rewarded by a growl in your ear and the Boss saying "It's your job to know who's next".

Now back in those days there were many more pubs and indeed, many more customers.  The Boss reckoned that good service would often make a difference in the customer's mind. (Likewise he always said that if anyone complained about a pint, you should exchange it without hesitation. His argument was that the goodwill thus generated through word of mouth was worth more than the occasional drainpoured pint.) Returning to customer welcome, in that respect I'll venture nothing much has changed about the fact that it works.  Good service, a smile and a word can make a big difference. Far too often these days barstaff  will rarely even look at you if they can avoid doing so and as for knowing who is next - well - not going to happen. I have often been served a pint with no eye contact and no words being exchanged. How poor is that? And don't get me started on the now ubiquitous "You alright there?".

I was reminded of this when I was in Liverpool a few weeks ago. In every pub we went in, we were engaged in some kind of conversation - even in the busy JDW at the station where we met to discuss our drinking plans for the rest of day.  OK, it was lunchtime to mid afternoon and the pubs ranged from busy to moderately quiet, but in each you felt that you were actually important, where as in many these days you do well to be even noticed.

Too often what is missing from the hospitality business is hospitality.  In the days of pubs struggling, that should be an easy win, but one that is so often noticeable by its absence.

Another thing we had to do was say goodbye and thanks to customers. When did that last happen to you?  And then by the way, we had to clean the entire pub including the toilets, before we went home. We were paid buttons and supped it all when we finished. And we loved it.  It is likely where my enduring love affair with pubs was forged.

I wrote about this kind of thing a few years ago. Well 8 years ago. Here  it is. Time flies.

The Thomas Usher ashtray came from that pub. It is the only physical thing I have from there.

Two Local Bars

It is always good to try the local bars when abroad.  It is there you get the feel for a place, though if course it can be a matter of pot luck as to what you come across.  Near our hotel in Amsterdam there were a couple of bars our group of ten met up at for a couple of pre-dinner drinks, having gone our own way during the day.  Both were friendly and accommodating, rushing to make tables up so we could all sit together and generally being friendly and welcoming. But the beers were a bit shall we say, pedestrian?  Nonetheless they gave a great impression of the city as being a place that you'll be treated well. That's just what you need when away.

Now one of the things that you really must do in Amsterdam is going for a "Rijsttafel" in an Indonesian restaurant. These restaurants are a relic of the Dutch colonial past, much as Indian restaurants are of ours.We chose one carefully and bloody good it was too. It was outside the inner city and thus less touristy.  We walked back to our hotel, the night being lovely and of course fancied a beer on the way. We knew by now to avoid these at all costs, any Heineken sign boozers. The choice is pretty poor and the prices rather high for what you get. This meant a bit more walking, Heineken being everywhere.  We eventually came across a nice little boozer that was worryingly empty at around nine thirty in the evening, but the the Gulpener sign assured us we'd find a beer or two that we'd like. Our host, a young laid back Dutchman, was happy to see us. He explained what beers he had available, insisting on us trying a taste of each before we made our choices. Perfect. In typical British fashion, us men sat outside drinking beer and watching the cyclists whizz by, while the ladies sat inside drinking wine.  Our host kept us up to date, by helpfully advising us when the women ordered another round, knowing full well that we'd follow.  This arrangement suited us very well. We left after three or four beers as the bar started to fill up. Great stuff and again the welcome and care was outstanding.  Well done Café Cees.

We had though noticed another bar near the hotel. Again signed for Gulpener, it was tucked away behind the Concertgebouw. On our last night, we were eating in the area, so we called in for pre-dinner drinks.  Our host here was of the more taciturn type, but us ten filled a round table and got on with things.  On the wall was a poster advertising Van Vollenhoven's Stout.  Sounded good and a squint at the price list showed it to be on sale. At the bar, we ordered two from our less than talkative barperson.  He rummaged silently. He had none after all it turned out, but recommended a bokbier from the tap.  Now it wasn't what we wanted, so I asked for a taste. After all he had recommended it. He answered in authoritative style. "No."  One word, that's all. Hmm. Ah well, it might have been the best beer in the world, but bugger him, his recommendation and his lousy attitude, so we ordered Orval and carried on. I reflected we'd brought ten people, along for a drink and we all had two or three, so a taste wouldn't have hurt. In case you are wondering, it is Café Welling. 

So what does all this prove? Well, when you have a choice, go where the welcome is warmest of course.
 
 This advice of course is only good if you go to a place more than once, but I offer it up nonetheless. Would I advise you not to go to Café Welling? Actually no.  It is a nice place with pleasant customers and seats outside. Just don't ask for a taste of the beer, or depend on affable chit-chat.

Annoyingly it is a Dutch habit to lose a bit of beer on pouring. They sort of pour a bit down the drain before applying the glass. That bit would have done me as a taster.

More Pickering Picks

After our success at the Sun Inn, the bar had been set very high indeed. Thus it was that our first stop, while perfectly pleasant, did not reach such dizzying heights.  Rather less attractive that What Pub might suggest, The Royal Oak was anything but "bustling". In fact we four were the only customers.  Nonetheless the welcome was pleasant and the beer was decent enough, with all of us plumping for Purity Ubu which was good. John Smith's on cask was a bit of a rare sighting, but the barman was happy to chat and direct us to other recommendations in town. Can't say fairer than that.

Our next stop, the Black Swan is an imposing looking place and inside you could have filmed an episode of All Creatures Great and Small without changing much at all. Older couples in tweedy things earnestly ate roast beef and Yorkshire Pudding amid an eclectic range of knick knacks including many examples of the kind of valve radios I grew up with.  By way of astonishing contrast, the bar was staffed by three young barmaids with matching corporate style uniforms. The lasses were friendly enough, though they had to be rescued by a colleague from Inverness (she said) to sort out the over foamy beer and who chatted pleasantly while fettling things.  She disappeared and the trio of staff then lapsed into silence in what was a quiet pub.  We asked if the pub was owned by Brass Castle or the company stitched on their aprons. This seemed to confuse them, as did a question about where Brass Castle beers are from.  One actually held her hands up and said "Whoah. Question overload!" Odd, but the beer was actually excellent, even if the staff could do with coming out of their shells a little more.

Our last call after the local pork pie shop was the Bay Horse and a horse of an entirely different colour at that.  This was bustling with locals enjoying the beer, cosy, warm and welcoming. The barmaid, as young as those in the previous Swan was clearly in charge, full of banter and confidence and enjoying herself. That's infectious.  There's a bit of an uphill slope and ridge on the way to and from the bar which most of us stumbled over giving rise to ribald comments from the locals. Clearly a source of local amusement, it was done with humour and we laughed too.  Beer was good and it was a very satisfying end to our Pickering stop.  We left amid a chorus of goodbyes.

Pickering is a smashing town, with many local shops, decent pubs and is very welcoming.  Don't hesitate to go there.



By and large all the pubs in North Yorkshire were friendly and had warm welcomes. That was err... welcome.  It really does make a big difference and it doesn't have to be a long conversation. A smile and "hello" will do.

The Sun Inn Pickering

On my North Yorkshire retreat last week, on the way to Whitby, we stopped off in Pickering for a drink. Four of us had intended to park up in the centre and try a couple of the pubs, as our preferred option, the Sun Inn wasn't open until four according to the Good Beer Guide. Driving past it at the end of a neat terrace in Westgate, eagle eyed Steve shouted. "Stop, the door's open." So we did.  It was open too and we trooped in to a lovely welcoming , bright and airy bar with five handpumps. We were greeted smilingly by the barmaid who explained that the pub had summer and winter hours, but we were lucky enough to call before the winter hours kicked in. "We keep telling CAMRA" she sighed, "but they just get it wrong".  We glanced around. It had obviously been a Tetley pub at some time as much Tetley memorabilia in the shape of pumpclips, signs, drinks trays and more dotted the walls.  "There's more next door" quoth our hostess.

We turned to beer, like you do, before exploring.  Tasters were offered. All had clearly been pulled through and were excellent.We were the first customers. Top marks for that. Beers were ordered and in the next hour or so, all the beers were local. apart from Tetley Bitter which was not tried.   A local couple joined us and said hello. The barmaid and later, the landlady joined us and kept up amiable chatter throughout our visit, telling us of social events asking about us and our visit and showing us the next room with a large atrium and the biggest Tetley Bitter sign I've seen.  Apart from the brewery wall that is. The Huntsman in his glory and around six feet tall.  The walls were festooned with paintings from a local artist which apparently are changed for a different artist each month. They weren't cheap, but you could buy greetings cards of them for a mere two quid.  Nice touch. They don't run out of artists readily. The landlady explained that "Pickering is a bit of an arty place." Who knew?

Jeff Bell said yesterday in his blog "All the time I've written this blog, and throughout the years I was in the trade myself, I've wondered what it is that makes a great pub. It's clearer to me now, particularly after a night like that. What makes a great pub is a warm welcome and happiness."

He couldn't be more correct. For strangers, visiting a local pub with a warm welcome and a bit of chat makes it so worthwhile.  We'd intended to have one round, but we had two, so it makes business sense too.  We left happy and with great reluctance and I recommend it strongly to you.  

We tried three more Pickering pubs. Results are still pretty good.  This was more or less the standard routine in Yorkshire, which is a great place to drink.

Sorry no photo of the pub. I forgot. It is at 136 Westgate, Pickering, YO18 8BB

Sunday, Lovely Sunday

The Sunday trip home on these weekend jaunts invariably gives the best beer of the trip. It's a kind of welcome Sod's Law with the sting in the tail being that time is restricted by the need to get everyone home and of course, the drivers hours are (rightly) limited by law. The dedicated toper has to use his or her time wisely.

We left Tewkesbury in time for a pre noon pint in Worcester. Pre noon means Wetherspoons as none of the GBG pubs opened until 12. The Postal Order was a typical example and absolutely jumping at around 11.30 when we added to the hubbub. Now the usual suspects will moan about JDW, but this one was filled with all sorts, from soaks to shoppers, with as many teas, coffees and breakfasts being scoffed as pints. It also gave us the opportunity to stock up on sandwiches from the nearby Tesco as we were unsure about the availability of grub in later venues.

A quick stop in Uphampton for the Fruiterer's Arms, home to the Cannon Royal Brewery. The pub is down a narrow country lane, with I assume, fruit fields on one side and a straggling hamlet on the other. The pub was old fashioned, full of locals and had a nice ambience with some outside enjoying the sunshine, locals chatting and a family function kicking off in a side room. Clearly a place at the heart of its community. The Fruiterer's Mild was dark and luscious. Some of us collectors regarded the framed poster from a defunct brewery. The old gent in the smock looks quite content does he not? Radcliffe of Kidderminster was taken over in 1947.





Our next stop shook off the brown beer with a vengeance. Coombs Wood Sports and Social Club is a thriving Cricket Club among other things. It was friendly and had an impressive array of six beers, Mauldon's Silver Adder did just fine for Tyson, me and E and the time passed all too quickly before we made our reluctant way to our final stop, the Waggon and Horses, also in Halesowen. What a pub! Fourteen beers from handpumps, bread, cheese and a rip roaringly hot salsa on the bar, the friendliest and chattiest locals you could imagine and the beers in wonderful condition. Bloody great. I can't list them all - I can't remotely remember, but beers from Nottingham, Oakham, Holdens and more were scoffed by Tyson, E and me. I looked around, We were chatting to a couple of locals and most of our group had a local attached, chatting away. We left with considerable reluctance.

It is worthwhile to reflect that when there are unpretentious, friendly pubs like this (and indeed the Fruiterer's and the Cricket Club) thriving and serving fantastic beer, you really know all this talk of the pub going down the tubes is just that. Great pubs, selling great beer in a great atmosphere will thrive, leaving those that can't cut the mustard to fail and that's just how it should be. I've said it before and it is worth repeating. It is really all about the offer.

No pictures of the Waggon and Horses. Sorry. The time just flew by and I didn't get round to it.

(Nearly) All Smiles in Yorkshire

It isn't that usual for me to spend a day drinking with the legendary Beer Hound, Tyson, late of this parish, but yesterday, in a persistent drizzle, I did. Huddersfield, considered by many to be a beer Nirvana was the destination. Naturally we warmed up a little first with a pint at Sinclairs in Manchester City Centre. Both of us felt that the Sam's Old Brewery Bitter was, on this occasion, just off the mark, but it set us up nicely for our rattly train trip over the Pennines.

Our first stop was the well known Rat and Ratchet. It is years since I've been there and Tyson had to be dragged off his usual wrong route to the place, which is admittedly in a bit of an awkward spot, being down a hill across a very busy ring road with many unforgiving motorists. It was quiet when we arrived and the welcome was warm from a knowledgeable barman. We sat in the main bar which has wooden floorboards and has a very cosy feel to it. We tried six or seven beers each, with for me, the stand out being the locally brewed mild from Mallinson's. The Ossett beers were excellent too in this Ossett tied house which does guests.

Next after a trek back up the hill and a hoof through a car park is the Grove, which neither of us had visited before. An end of terrace local, it has a lounge and a tap room and is done up simply but attractively, with many prints and cartoons on the wall. Around twelve cask beers were on offer and a number of draught foreign beers too. The eclectic beer list for bottles is umpteen pages long. Even the snack menu - and I'm talking packet snacks here - is nearly four pages long with some dangerous chilli concoctions and flavoured crickets being noteworthy. Cheese and Bacon cricket anyone? The menu advises you to have A & E on your speed dial before eating and may well not be kidding!

The super landlady was friendly and welcoming and guided us happily through the various offerings and made us feel most at home. The beer? More Mallinson's, this time Town Pride Bitter which was very bitter and various other halves of this and that including for me, Vale Black which was overpoweringly chocolatey. Then the landlady mentioned she had Moravka Lager, the krasnicove (unfiltered) version. We had both been keen to try this for ages and ordered two halves eagerly. We tried to like it. Honestly we did, but it had a strange spoiled fruit aroma and a slightly eggy taste did not add to the enjoyment. We should have tried the "ordinary" Moravka, but didn't realise it was on too until looking at the web site today. Much better was the excellent Jaipur IPA which for once was almost clear and had good body and condition as well as excellent bitterness. Reluctantly we took our leave, Tyson sighing about the lengthy list of things we simply didn't have time to try. We'll be back and you should go. It is a classic already. You could spend all day there and not tire of it. One odd thing though. All the cask beers are served through short necks and no sparklers. Strange for this part of the world. Their website is here.

It was all downhill from there, both literally and figuratively. In steady dripping rain we hoofed down to the Cherry Tree JDW as it is run by a regular at my local pub. Maybe for that reason the welcome was again warm and service was prompt. Pints of Phoenix Last Leaf were thoroughly enjoyed, though a taste of Abbott Special Reserve didn't make me keen to have any. It was easy from there on in. Just round the corner to our last two destinations, both on the platform of the station. The Head of Steam and the King's Head complement each other very nicely, though for me the sheer cosiness of the right hand bar of the Head of Steam takes some beating, though you'll probably find more interesting beers at the King's. A Swift One 's Beer Blog describes it all very well here, so I won't and my camera battery had died by then anyway. We drank E&S Beyond the Pale under the doleful eye of the dour Czech barmaid, who had obviously modelled herself on the sinister Polish lasses from Harry and Paul. We only found out where she was from by a long and challenging guessing game, where each guess was met with a single word "No". Not the merest hint of a smile was forthcoming as our guesses got wilder and wilder, though she did utter the word "Brazil?" with a modicum of disbelief. As we shrivelled under her withering gaze, we left and went to the barn like King's Head where we drank lots of something pale and hoppy - their speciality - and mine, though by now note taking and remembering was a thing of the past.

Back in Manchester common sense took over for me at least. Under Tyson's unerring guidance we weaved our way through the back streets to the Hunter's Indian Caff where rice and three sorted us out. No more beer for me, but Tyson is made of sterner stuff. He was off to meet a mate in the Northern Quarter for more liquid refreshment.

It was a good day. Apart from the Head of Steam - and perversely that made the visit all the more interesting and nothing could take away from the sheer comfort of the place - we were greeted warmly throughout by bar staff who were genuinely glad to see us and made us feel appreciated. Well done Huddersfield.