Nostalgia is alive and kicking at the Hooden Smokehouse & Cellar

At the start of my recent post about Ashford, I brought up the old adage that, “You should never go back.” I said at the time that there is more of a grain of truth in this piece of advice, but this does need qualifying. I meant what I'd said, but with the following provisos, because sometimes you end up being pleasantly surprised, as I'll explain shortly.

Nothing stands still, and things change and evolve all the time, and if you actually embrace the change, then when things aren’t quite what you expected or indeed remembered, that’s not always a bad thing. There is one strict condition here, and that is the change must be positive, as there’s no point in going back and re-visiting a favourite place from your youth, if you find it’s been altered out of all recognition. Even then, it still might represent a positive change, if the alterations that have taken place are for the better, so the key is to keep an open mind when returning to old haunts and places that have sacred memories from childhood.

I experienced this, at first hand, a couple of Friday’s ago, as part of that return visit to Ashford, and neighbouring Willesborough, as they were the places where I not only grew up, but also spent my formative years. So, as part of the planning for our trip, I paid careful attention to somewhere suitable for a lunchtime drink, plus a bite to eat.

As the idea was to walk through the housing development where my sister and I had lived with our parents, between the ages of 3 and 11, I was banking on finding somewhere nearby. Straight away, I thought of the Rose Inn, a pub I visited several times as a child, with my parents and maternal grandparents. The latter made regular visits from London, after we first moved to Kent, and as both enjoyed a drink – unlike my parents, the Rose was within easy walking distance, and a place that the whole family could enjoy.

It was an unusual pub, being built into the side of a hill, and was therefore constructed on two levels. The public bar was at the higher level, fronting the road, and a saloon-cum-games area, which doubled-up as children's room, at the lower level. It was reached by descending a series of steps from the road, and also the car park. I remember as a child, sitting out at some tables in the top car park, enjoying a pineapple juice, and a packet of crisps.

My grandmother’s tipple of choice was a gin and tonic, but my grandfather was definitely a beer man. He preferred bottled, rather than draught, and I think this was quite a common preference during the early 60’s – something to do with variability of the draught beer back then. “Draught” would invariably have been cask, and poor cellar skills shown by many licensees at the time, helped lead to the development and wider promotion of keg beer.

The latter, was originally, nothing more than bottled beer but served and dispensed from a much larger container. My grandfather stuck with his bottles though, and whilst I have no idea of the brew served in the Rose, at the time, I imagine it would have been Fremlin’s. I say this because shortly after leaving school, I became re-acquainted with the pub. It was a Whitbread pub back then, the latter company having acquired most of its pubs in the area, following the takeover of Fremlin’s in 1967.

I hadn’t long turned 18, and along with a couple of former school friends, had taken a job at a local food processing factory, whilst awaiting my A-level results. The work was dull, repetitive and boring, but paid reasonably well, and we were placed on permanent late shift, which ran from 2pm until 10pm. Back in those days most Kent pubs closed at 10.30pm Monday to Thursday, with an extension to 11pm on Fridays and Saturdays.

The Rose was the nearest pub to the factory, and if we left as soon as the shift ended, we just had time to hot foot it along to the Rose and get a couple of quick pints in before time was called. Presiding behind the bar was this fearsome old lady called Norah. She appeared to run the pub single-handed, although we later learned that one of her sons helped with the cellar work and other heavy duties. We tended to frequent the lower saloon bar on our after-work visits, primarily to engage in a game or two of bar-billiards, and despite our relatively young ages, Norah seemed quite glad of our custom.

One friend though, recounted a tale of how Norah had once barred his father from the pub, purely because she "didn't like the look of him,” we paid little attention to this story, as we really looked forward to those after work beers, especially after a gruelling 8-hour shift. As proof of this, the couple of pints we squeezed in before “last orders” were called, barely touched the sides.

At the end of that summer, I left home to go to university. When I returned the following summer, I had a different part-time job at a location that was nowhere near the Rose. I consequently lost touch with the pub, until a few weeks ago, when my interest was re-kindled, following a search on What Pub, for a place in Willesborough, to enjoy that lunchtime drink.

I did something of a double take when I first saw the pub and its address. It is no longer the Rose, but instead goes under the name of the Hooden Smokehouse & Cellar, which puzzled me somewhat as I remember a small chain of pubs all with the word “Hooden” in their title. We had one in Tonbridge, for a while, when the Somerhill Arms was renamed the Hooden Horse.

That was quite a few years ago, and the pub has reverted to its original name, but I’m not sure what the story was regarding the Willesborough outlet. I wasn’t that bothered either, because the pub was open, the food and drink offerings looked good and the reviews on TripAdvisor were also positive, so the former Rose it was then. As mentioned in my Ashford article, the Hooden Smokehouse & Cellar (HS&C), was just a few hundred yards past my old primary school, and as soon as we arrived the outside of the pub looked familiar. One thing which was different, was the upper bar was no longer accessible.

We walked down the steps to the lower bar instead, passing through a covered area which serves as the games room. This led through into the main bar which was the one I remembered as the saloon bar, nearly half a century ago. There was a handful of people inside – a couple having lunch, as the far end of the room, a couple of lads, sitting at the side of the bar, plus the landlord who was doing some work on his computer.

We ordered some drinks and grabbed a copy of the menu. I opted for the Harvey’s Sussex Best, which was the only cask ale on sale. Matthew went for a pint of Heineken. We both chose the Dry Aged Beef Burger and chips option for our lunch, and I have to say the food was excellent, and the service prompt. The Harvey’s was good too, which led me to order a second pint.

Afterwards I had an interesting chat with the landlord, and the subject of the legendary former landlady, Norah came up. He had heard several stories, from various sources, about Norah, and had even met one of her sons. I told him one of mine, which sort of tied in with the tale my friend told, about her refusing to serve his father. The story is too long to repeat here, but if you click the link, it will direct you to a post I published in 2010, entitled Fearsome Pub Landladies.

A few quick lines about the pub, to finish on. It was built in 1648, as a coaching inn, and as remained a pub ever since. A serious fire broke out in November 2016. Because the fire started in duct-work, associated with the extraction system, from one of the fryers, in the kitchen, it was some time before it was noticed. This meant the damage was much more extensive than I might have been, and consequently, the clean-up and rebuilding work necessary, meant the pub didn’t re-open, until March 2018.

Unfortunately, the renovation work revealed some structural weaknesses, which meant that it was not possible to re-open the upstairs bar; without some prohibitively expensive remedial work. The landlord told me that steep, wooden, nautical-style which Norah clambered up and down between the bars, was still in place.

The pub’s menu places a strong emphasis on American-style food, with items such as ribs, pulled pork, chicken wings, as well as burgers, a major feature of the Hooden’s food offering. As for the beer, the landlord did say that prior to lock-down, he was running with 2-3 cask ales on, but had (sensibly in my book), dropped this figure down to one. The pub also features two or three craft offerings. On the landlord’s own admission, these are expensive at around £6 a pint, but they were selling.

The Hooden Smokehouse & Cellar is well worth checking out if you are in the area, and with happy childhood memories for me, I’m really glad that I stopped by, to re-live some of them.

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