Pilot guides the way to perfect fish & chips

Looking back over 15 years’ worth of blog posts, it’s hard sometimes not to spot a recurring theme, a location that gets numerous mentions or a topic that keeps cropping up. It’s inevitable, I suppose because no matter how much we search for something different, and new, there are times when we hit the “repeat” button by returning to a familiar theme or end up revisiting and experiencing somewhere we’ve been before. This goes against the grain of perceived wisdom that says you should never go back, and whilst I’m all for checking out new places that I’ve never been to before, it’s often equally good to return to somewhere you are not just familiar with but are extremely fond of.

I’ve probably over-egged that last statement, but the gist of what I want to put across remains the same, and what I’m leading up to is the trip I made with the family, last Friday, down to Dungeness, for a lunch of fish & chips, at the renowned Pilot Inn. Looking back, I’ve written about the Pilot on at least four previous occasions, and whilst one or two of these articles were solely about the pub (and the excellence of its battered cod and chips), the rest were pieces about this famous watering hole, but combined with other topics – local towns, landmarks etc.

So, on Friday, with Matthew having the day off from work, and Mrs PBT’s taking a well-earned rest from the world of VAT returns, we jumped in the car and headed off to Romney Marsh. This sparsely populated wetland area, which stretches between the counties of Kent and East Sussex, has long held a fascination for the Bailey family, and it’s no exaggeration to say it’s one of our favourite places. Covering an area of around 100 square miles, with much of it lying below sea level, this south-eastern corner of Kent contains one of England’s most distinctive landscapes and consists of wide, flat fields, endless skies, meandering ditches dotted with isolated farms and villages.

Eileen and I both have fond memories from our respective childhoods, of visits to Romney Marsh, and this tradition continued when we became a married couple and then a family. We spent our honeymoon at Rye and later, following the birth of son Matthew, had a number of family holidays in the area. This included renting a cottage at Winchelsea Beach, in the shadow of the dunes and the seawall, and literally a stone's throw from the sea. A short drive from Winchelsea is the southern tip of Romney Marsh, where the great sweeping expanse of shingle known as Dungeness, juts out into the English Channel. It is the largest such shingle structure in Europe and was the destination for Friday’s trip to the coast. We normally follow a well-driven route that takes us in a roughly south-easterly direction, from Tonbridge down to New Romney, via Goudhurst, Tenterden and Appledore.

The adage of never travel on a Friday proved apt advice, as road closures between Goudhurst and Tenterden, meant a lengthy diversion. In addition, umpteen sets of road works – most of them seemingly connected with new housing developments, meant it was after 2pm, before we arrived at the Pilot. Leaving late hadn’t helped either, but this was unavoidable, as both Matthew and I had errands to sort out in Tonbridge that morning.

Friday was dry, and a welcome relief following what has seemed like weeks of relentless rain. It was also bright and sunny, although with a strong, cold northerly wind blowing, it wasn’t a day for standing on the shingle bank and admiring the views of the English Channel. Our late arrival did mean that the pub was relatively quiet, so with no difficulty finding a parking space, and also a table, it wasn’t long before we were tucking into our lunchtime feast of fish and chips.

To be pedantic, it was the family that had the fish and chips – huss for Eileen and haddock for Matthew, I went for the "Dungeness Fisherman’s Pie", consisting of cod, salmon, smoked haddock, and prawns, topped with mashed potato and melted cheese. I’ve enjoyed this dish before, and it didn’t disappoint this time around.  As far as the beer is concerned, the Pilot features a couple of “house beers” produced for the pub by Romney Marsh Brewery.  As on previous visits, I opted for the B17 Sleepytime Girl, an American-style IPA that was the perfect accompaniment to the seafood.

It's worth noting that I’ve never failed to be impressed at the slick operation in place at this family-run pub. Food orders are taken at a separate counter, whilst drinks are ordered at the bar. This means drinkers don’t have to wait whilst diners faff over what to order from the menu. It also means there never seems long to wait before the food is brought to the table, piping hot and ready to enjoy. As well as appealing to fish lovers, meat eaters are catered for too, as are those who prefer plant-based concoctions. Daily specials are also available, and food is served from noon right through to 9pm (8pm on Sundays). Given the above, the Pilot is justly popular with a wide range of discerning customers.

The cold wind meant we weren’t tempted to go for a walk along the beach afterwards, but the breezy conditions did make for good visibility had we wished to view the shipping moving up and down the Channel. We did, however, take a drive along to Dungeness point, where the two lighthouses stand guard over the two nuclear power stations. Dungeness “A” was decommissioned some years ago, and I believe the “B” power-generating unit is also now undergoing the same process. Nearby, is the terminus of the Romney, Hythe & Dymchurch light railway, although being term-time, as well as winter, trains didn’t appear to be running.

On the way home, we called into Jempson's Superstore at Peasmarsh, just outside Rye. Jempson’s are a local company, and their shop is well-stocked with from the surrounding area. The adjacent filling station is also renowned for cheap fuel, and a lengthy queue had developed. I’d already purchased my diesel, before leaving Tonbridge, and with the gauge hovering just on the reserve mark, there wouldn’t have been sufficient for the drive down to Romney Marsh, especially with the diversions and roadworks encountered, on the way.

Eileen bought a couple of packs of Jempson’s famous sausage rolls, which we had for tea, the following day, and also purchased a bag of freshly baked jam doughnuts. I took a look at the beer aisle, noting that Cellar Head Brewing seem to have taken over from Old Dairy, as the store’s supplier of local beers. This is not surprising, given the sad demise of Old Dairy, earlier this year. The store itself was buzzing, and as I’ve mentioned before it's good to see an independent, family-owned supermarket more than holding its own against the bigger boys.

Like I said at the beginning, this piece is a little predictable and familiar, but occasionally it doesn’t hurt to stick with what you know and love.