Eating out, not just once, but twice in one week!

Over the past week and a half, I've managed a couple of early evening pub meals, something that's quite unusual for me, as Mrs PBT’s is an excellent cook and usually takes care of culinary matters. If she doesn't fancy cooking, then a takeaway is in order, normally fish and chips from the excellent Avebury Avenue Fish Bar, but sometimes we go for a Chinese. Unlike the chippy, the Mandarin delivers, but then it is situated at the other end of the town. A new kebab shop has opened there too, just a couple of doors down from the Chinese, and it has ended up replacing old favourite, Kebab Express. 

Sited rather too conveniently, in the parade of shops opposite Tonbridge station, and offering some of the best chicken shish kebabs in town, a recent change of ownership has seen the closely knit team move away. New people are in charge there now, and the food, plus the welcome doesn’t quite seem the same, so a kebab now means a drive up to Martin Hardie Way, at the other end of town.

Back to the story, last Friday Eileen was out for a meal with a group of her girly friends, for one of their regular get togethers. The girls first met when they were expectant mothers, although I can’t remember if this was at the ante-natal or post-natal classes they attended. It doesn’t really matter which, as the main thing is the group has stayed together for the past 35 years. They meet up for a meal, plus a few drinks, two or three times a year, invariably at Christmas, but also on other occasions, and Friday evening was one of those. To Eileen's relief they have stopped going to a certain, nearby establishment, that wasn't delivering, particularly in terms of service. I’m not sure whether it's changed, following a recent makeover, but it’s reportedly being run by the same team.

The girls also had a rather poor Christmas meal experience, at a Tunbridge Wells bar-cum-restaurant, close to the Pantiles. Mrs PBT’s wasn’t impressed there either, after the group found themselves crammed into the first-floor restaurant, that was accessed bar by a narrow, and rickety looking staircase. I gather the food wasn’t all that special, either. I won’t name or shame these two establishments, but it was interesting that the same group member had chosen both venues. Several years previously, she had scored a hit with her choice of the Grey Lady, situated at the other end of the historic Pantiles.

Last December, I experienced the Grey Lady myself, when the company selected it for a pre-Christmas get-together, with some of our Japanese directors. The group were over, for a board meeting, and we enjoyed a good evening, that helped promote good relations between us, and our parent company. I'm digressing, although I’m pleased to report that the new favourite hangout for the ladies, is the Ivy House, at the top end of Tonbridge High Street. It's a pub that needs little in the way of introduction, so I won't repeat what I've written previously about the place.

So back to little old me. Matthew was out that evening, staying the night at his girlfriend’s place. This left me footloose and fancy free, but not in the mood for a take-away. I decided that a pub meal would be the best idea, especially as the combination of good food, equally good beer and comfortable surroundings, is hard to beat, but which one to choose?  I spent some time online, exploring the various options, and concluded that I would almost certainly have to drive out somewhere. I was looking for a place that sold decent beer alongside, reasonably priced food, with none of that gourmet nonsense, but just a good, old-fashioned, no-thrills pub. I also had to bear I mind that Friday evening was likely to be a busy time, so I needed to make my mind up fast.

Without too much hesitation, I opted for the Dovecote, out at Capel. I’d eaten there a few times when visiting with members of West Kent CAMRA, the last time being whilst attending the pub’s Dark Ales Festival. I wasn’t sure whether the chef was still the same person, but on that occasion, it was Yvonne, the former landlady of the Royal Oak in Tunbridge Wells. What I saw on the menu looked familiar, so I picked up the phone and booked a table for one. “It sounds a little sad,” I explained, as I made the booking. “Don't worry,” the landlady said, “we’ll look after you,” and I’m pleased to report that she and her staff did.

Come Friday evening, Eileen’s friend Trisha's husband picked her up and drove the pair of them down to the Ivy House, leaving me free to make my way over to tiny hamlet of Capel. Situated within easy walking distance of the nearby village of Five Oak Green, but not close enough to walk, safely, from Tonbridge, I checked the public transport options, but bus companies seem to think no one wants to use their services after 6pm, leaving people with little option to drive there, or get a taxi. I'm not a fan of taxis unless I really have to use them, although I do admit that the door-to-door service they provide can be handy, at times. However, without the option of sharing a cab, they don't come cheap, so on this occasion I was quite happy to drive to the pub and stick with just the one pint.

I'd already checked the Dovecote’s cask offering on the Real Ale Finder app on my phone and was pleased to see that one of the beers on sale was Micklegate Dark Mild from Brew York. Coming in at 3.4% abv, that was a beer unlikely to impede me from driving.  Following a 10-minue drive over from Tonbridge, I parked the car, noticing that the extensive car park behind the pub was more than half full, and walked into the pub. After checking in with the landlady, and being shown my allocated table, I went to the bar and ordered a pint of the aforementioned dark mild. Sitting at the bar was a couple I knew from the days when they were regular customers at our old off licence. I had a brief chat with them, discovering that being a similar age to me, they had both taken the plunge and retired.

I also ordered my main course of chicken, ham & leek pie, with mash potato, vegetable and gravy, a choice my family would describe as “somewhat predictable.” It was rather nice, and also quite filling, so much so that I decided to forgo a dessert. There were quite a few other customers dining that evening, although given the reasonably priced menu, plus the high quality of the meals, this wasn’t really surprising.  So full marks, once again to the Dovecote, not just for the food and the beer, but for the friendly welcome of the staff, and the ambience of the pub, in general.

Less than a week later, I enjoyed another early evening pub meal, this time at the Little Brown Jug in Chiddingstone Causeway.  The Jug is just over 5 minutes’ walk from my workplace, and it was a work-related function that brought me to the pub. A colleague, who is a similar age to me, was retiring, having just reached the biblical, three-score years and ten. Unlike me, she’d decided not to continue at work, although she could have carried on in a part-time role. The company had booked the Jug for a few “farewell drinks,” with an open bar between 4.30 & 5.30pm.

With Thursday being one of my “non-working” days I took the train over from Tonbridge, alighting at the conveniently sited, Penshurst station, directly opposite the pub.  I recall being told that the LBJ was originally called the Station Tavern, and that its name was changed by a former licensee who was a massive Glen Miller fan. “Little Brown Jug” was a well-known number, played live, as well as recorded by Miller and his big band, but unfortunately, I have never been able to substantiate the story.

This aside, there was quite a crowd of company employees, standing outside the pub and enjoying a drink, as my train pulled in at 16.32. I joined them, and enjoyed several pints of Larkin’s Traditional, which were on top form – I hinted at this in the previous post. As company “dos” go, it was pretty good and acted as a good send-off for our retiring colleague. 

As the clock ticked on, and the tab behind the bar came to an end, people started to drift off, but a hard core of us stuck it out, and ordered ourselves some food. My Mac ‘N’ Cheese, with added bacon, was very good, and accompanied by a side of mixed salad and garlic bread, formed just the right portion for an early evening meal. The Italian Tortellini Pasta, with crayfish and prawns, that one of my colleagues enjoyed, looked equally tasty, with both dishes demonstrating the quality of the food at the LBJ. I caught the 18.56 train back to Tonbridge, leaving the hard-core drinkers, to carry on with the evening. For me, two pub meals in relatively quick succession was a rare treat, but a welcome one, nevertheless.