NORTHWICH, THE SPINNER AND BERGAMOT - Dinner at the Spinner

The Spinner & Bergamot is the archetypal country pub. Nestled in the picturesque village of Comberbach, this curiously-titled hostelry is so named for two fillies, whose likenesses adorn the pub sign.

This place has a perennially festive feel to it; the trees crowding the entrance are swathed with lights that twinkle all year round. Interior-wise, it's a labyrinth of cosy corners; a tangle of snug hidey-holes that lead to a high-beamed, surprisingly huge, restaurant.

First off, the wine is expensive. And I mean expensive (for a pub, any road). You're looking at around £18 for house, with our bottle of Marlborough clocking in at around £21. The higher-end prices also translate to the menu (a sheaf whose content seldom changes). It's pub food at restaurant prices.

GET YOUR GOAT'S CHEESE

A starter of deep fried goat's cheese sounds oozy and decadent. It ought to be runny in the middle and implode as soon as cutlery contact is made. A goat's cheese is a thing of beauty; a fried goat's cheese a gift from heaven itself.

FRY HARD

It arrived around two minutes after our order was taken (there's swift, and there's suspiciously swift) and, disappointingly, was absolutely rock hard in the middle, and stone cold to boot. The inferior wares were transported back to the kitchen; their replacements proving far more palatable (but not really that great). Unfortunately, this rather set the tone for the remainder of the evening; and it did kind of make me wonder how exactly the goat's cheese was prepared - freezer to microwave, possibly?

ON THE CREST OF A MICROWAVE

Largely undeterred, we pressed on. Now, the Spinner & Bergamot's main courses are notoriously colossal, so much so that they offer 'small' helpings of various dishes. I went for the small fish and chips (having been defeated by its standard-sized counterpart on a previous visit).

Size-wise, it was more than sufficient. The fish was a decent bit of cod, enrobed in a sunshine batter and flanked by the most superb home-made chips, not to mention several doorsteps of bread and butter.

A FISH OUT OF WATER

I really like the fact that the S&B makes its own condiments. The homemade brown sauce is lovely - sweeter than you'd expect it to be, and not as tart as the HP variety. Likewise, the in-house produced tartare sauce gets a big thumbs-up.

Unfortunately, the adulation ended there. Mrs V's steak and ale pie was, again, cold in the middle. What was going on? Were they having a serious off-night here, or what? She didn't bother sending it back; keen to press on given that we'd already exchanged our starters hitherto.

TARTARE VERY MUCH

All things considered, it was a rather disappointing affair. I've been to the S&B on numerous occasions and have never had a bad meal. I mean, it is a lovely pub whose atmosphere is par none within the locale.

But, during our visit, there was far too much in the way of inconsistency - you wondered, even, if the chef was having a night off - to warrant another visit in the near future - which is a shame, because I used to really like the place!

Food: ✓✓

Service: ✓✓✓

Ambiance: ✓✓✓✓

Value: ✓✓✓

Website: http://www.spinnerandbergamot.com

Phone: 01606891307

Tip: If booking, ask for a table in the back restaurant, otherwise they'll stick you around the bar area. 

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WARRINGTON, CHANG NOI - Thai by Night

Chang Noi was formerly situated on the outskirts of Chester, having relocated to the Birch & Bottle, outside Antrobus, some eighteen or so months ago. The pub is of the spit and sawdust variety – gaudy, loud carpets, chintzy decor - and hasn’t seen a great deal in the way of decoration for, I dare say, some while. 

It was moderately busy on our visit, and, having pre-booked, we were directed to a table near the bar - a table so sticky your shirt sleeves adhered to it as though it were fashioned from velcro. 

STICKY WICKET

There is an extended dining area in the conservatory – which might well be more salubrious but, in light of the screams of a caterwauling child that emanated from it, I was thankful to be well out of the way.  

SIGNS OF THE TIMES

Chang Noi doesn’t just do Thai. They specialise in a kind of hotchpotch fusion of cuisines broadly falling under the umbrella term ‘Asian’. The menu sounded curious, and intensely tantalising. Shortly after the delivery of a tasty Sauvignon, a starter of Ramaquin Madras was received with aplomb. 

IN MINCE CONDITION

A house special, it comprised lamb and beef mince and peas bound in various spices. It was huge. In fact, it could barely be contained by the perimeter of prawn crackers fencing it in, in the manner of deep-fried riot police encircling a mincemeat mob. The bed of rice on which the dish was pivoted only added to the largesse. It was quite, spicy, too - so far, so good.

CURRY FAVOUR

The main courses can roughly be divided into two camps: ‘Thai cuisine’ and ‘our own recipe’ (i.e. other). I tried the kamikaze curry from the latter section, intriguingly described as ‘our version of a Vindaloo but with a lot more taste.’ I expected something hot, and I wasn’t disappointed. 

However, the duck meat (available at a supplement of £1.50) was sub-par – stringy, chewy and, worse, elusive. It was a real shame. And, although the heat from the dish was phenomenal, the sauce itself was a watery soup in which could be found the odd piece of sinew or fatty duck skin. Moreover, the garlic naan I ordered on the side was straight from the shelves of Asda, via the microwave. Mrs V’s Thai red curry, meanwhile, hit the spot, but wasn’t really that spectacular.

STICKY RICE, RICE BABY

I admire what Chang Noi is trying to do here – set up in a stalwart country pub, offering decent Asian cuisine at reasonable prices. But, on our visit, the fare was a bit hit-and-miss. Granted, they’re trying to be a bit different. Perhaps, if they concentrated solely on producing Thai cuisine of the finest quality - rather than making fusion-based deviations - they might find themselves onto a real winner. 

KAMIKAZE ATTACK

That said, I would return to Chang Noi on the strength of the starter alone, further ensuring that, on any repeat visit, I opted for something a bit more prosaically Thai. I do wonder how this venue will fare in light of the recent advent of Siam Village in Stockton Heath - only time will tell. 

Food: ✓✓✓

Service: ✓✓✓

Ambiance: ✓✓

Value: ✓✓✓✓

Website: http://www.changnoi.co.uk

Phone: 01925 730756

Tip: If ordering a kamikaze curry, be sure to put a toilet roll in the freezer before you retire for the evening.  

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WARRINGTON, THE TUNNEL TOP - Light at the End of the Tunnel

Mercifully, the Tunnel Top has, of late, changed hands. I say mercifully due to the previous tenants seemingly having done their utmost to run the place into the ground – refusing to uplift the sad, dated decor, not to mention being awarded the monumental accolade of a hygiene rating of 0 out 5 from the Scores on the Doors food hygiene agency – the lowest in the entire area. 

Thankfully, the place has been given a complete overhaul by the incoming incumbents – the manky, rotting sign having been consigned to the bin, and the sticky carpet torn up and heaved into a skip. Now, it’s all about bare floors and the shabby chic. Internally, it looks great.

SETTLE OLD SCORES ON THE DOORS

That said, the TT hasn't done itself many favours in terms of self-publicising – no up to date website, no online menu, an irregular Twitter feed; not even a menu board outside the pub. Get it sorted, please!

PORK OF THE TOWN

Our visit found the place dead, but that was hardly surprising given the A533 was closed that night. First things first, the prices - it's cheap. The TT has embraced its location. It isn't suffering an identity crisis. It doesn't think it's in Stockton Heath. It's fairly proximal to Runcorn, a geography it tacitly acknowledges. The most expensive main course would probably set you back around £14; far from excessive in this day and age.

WATERCRESS UNDER THE BRIDGE

My starter of pork belly with black pudding croquettes weighed in at £4.50. The pork was tender and plentiful, but I found the croquette a bit light on black pudding. I am partial to a bit of black pudding so was a bit crestfallen at its absence. Mrs V's chicken and chorizo dish was simple, but bountiful; uncomplicated, but with depth (though initially it proved difficult to behold due to the dense topiary of watercress surmounting it). The chicken was pleasingly moist and the cubes of chorizo generous.

BUN FROM THE OVEN

The TT's eponymous burger proved quite colossal and, despite the patty being rather an odd shape, it was so large that the burger’s innards spilled out from the bun, as if disembowelled. Underpinned by a smoked rasher as thick as a shoe tongue, this was a burger of heft. (The bun, though, could’ve been fresher.) As interesting as ‘jenga chips’ sounded (comprising, I imagine, a stack in the shape of the titular board game), I went for the fries. 

Mrs V’s lamb tower wasn’t nearly as majestic as its lofty name suggests, but it was a damn tasty hunk of braised meat that lost all structural integrity when nudged with a fork - precisely as something braised ought to do.

LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER

Dessert of a sliver of lemon tart was pleasant, but the accompanying raspberry sorbet was so unbelievably rock hard it could have shattered teeth and, if launched as a projectile, taken some bugger's eye out.  House wine is around £12 for a pretty good Pinot Grigio.

LEMON TART WITH A HEART

All in all, it was an enjoyable evening, let down just a touch by the lack of atmosphere. Let’s hope the Tunnel Top learns to blow its own horn a bit more so that it might attract a clientele a bit broader in terms of demography. It would certainly be nice to see the pub thriving after years of shameful neglect.

Food: ✓✓✓
Service: ✓✓✓
Ambiance: ✓✓✓
Value: ✓✓✓✓
Website: N/A
Phone: 01928 718181
Tip: Use your Tastecard on a Friday night

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WARRINGTON, THE CHETWODE ARMS - Hot Rock and Roll

Despite being located but a stone’s throw from my abode, I’d only ever been to the Chetwode Arms once. I found it to be expensive - astronomically so – and could still recollect with alarming clarity the palpitations, chest pains and shortness of breath that accompanied the arrival of the bill. On a positive note, Pete Waterman was there that evening. Apparently it’s his local, and he’s mighty attached to it. He would never, by all accounts, give it up, let it down, run around or desert it (to quote Waterman protégé Rick Astley, Newton-le-Willows’ most notorious musical exponent). 

LIKE A DUCK TO WATERMAN

This is as picturesque a country pub as you could ever hope to encounter. Located just off the A49 – a road so appealing to tractors that they feel the need to converge on it in vast numbers during rush hour – it sits roughly equidistant between Warrington and Northwich. The proprietors are South African and, whilst this influence doesn’t predominate in terms of the menu’s composition, it certainly informs it a smidgen. The specialty here is hot rocks – cook-it-yourself dinners comprising hunks of hissing meat on a molten slab. The pub’s interior is labyrinthine. It is riddled with nooks and crannies in which can be found hot rock-endowed diners browning meat with a captivated zeal. 

TRACTOR OF FACT

Upon being seated, we ordered a house white at £17.50 from the rather pricey wine list. It was decent, actually, and as dry as could be – ideal for quaffing in the not-unpleasantly smoky atmosphere. I went for the duck pate starter, which arrived in its own porcelain vessel, and was capped by offerings of fruit and chutney, alongside a heap of salad. I’ve never had blackberries dipped in pate before. It felt gluttonous. It felt wrong. But I couldn’t help shovelling them all down - whole, in the main. The pate itself was a touch on the runny side, but – thankfully – fiercely rich. Accompanying toasted brioche lent an almost sickly sweetness I hadn’t expected, contrasting nicely to the hearty pate. 

WHAT A DIFFERENCE PATE MAKES

My hot rock main arrived a short time later. One can choose from a dizzying array of game meats which, by and large, once roamed the grasslands of Southern Africa – Wildebeest, Springbok, Eland, and Impala. Surely David Attenborough would approve. On this occasion they had a selection of ‘guest’ meats on special – Argentinian horse being one example (a ridiculously cute equine quadruped), Alpaca another. 

ALPACA YOUR BAGS

I’ve never been that mad on the prospect of tucking into members of the camel family. They just don’t look that appetising. You’d think they’d be all sinewy, what with all the roaming across endless expanses of emptiness and the like. The alpaca’s no real exception. Our Lass owns a teddy bear made from Alpaca fiber. It is a soft as you like, and exudes a distinct, if rather questionable aroma. It’s had a stint of rotten luck in the shape of a feline nemesis that's rather partial to throttling the thing whilst simultaneously applying rapid, disembowelling strokes to its lower quarters. 

BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HOT PLATE

On this occasion, I decided to stick to more familiar territory. It was going to be the so called ‘Forrest Gump’ for me i.e. wild boar and fillet steak. (How this relates to the eponymous book/film is unclear.) The boar was akin to pork but gamier and, as I determined in the early hours of the next morning when gripped with gut-wrenching cramp, could probably have used some more cooking than the thirty-seconds-on-each-side that I allowed it. Accompanying fillet steak was exemplary, as thick as your wrist and exquisitely tender. Needless to say, it was barely shown to the hot rock. Brown on the outside, cold in the middle – that is what it’s all about. I’d probably have eaten it raw, if truth be known. 

A FRIGHTFUL BOAR

Various accouterments were served up with the meats: mushrooms, onions, some rather greasy home-fried chips, as well as the world’s most colossal onion ring, the latter surmounting the towering fillet that loomed from the hot rock as a monolith – as a trawler through fog, if we’re going to get all poetic about it. Our Lass went for a home-made pasta dish which she extolled as wondrous beyond belief. It featured in its midst several shell-on king prawns whose exoskeletons were swiftly and mercilessly pulverised by nimble, adroit digits. But, at £19, that dish was relatively steep. It might well be the most expensive pasta in living memory. 

TO THE MANNER PRAWN

Suffice to say, I was stuffed after putting all that away. I had, mid-course, deftly unfastened a trouser button so as to release the fleshy subsidence that near threatened to spill from my jeans. It was all getting too much. My eyelids started to grow heavy. I was feeling weary. It was time for a lie down, surely. And, as delicious as several of the desserts sounded, no way was I having one. 

Most pleasingly, I didn’t suffer the onset of a coronary embolism upon becoming acquainted with the tab. It stacked up to roughly £70 all in and, although some of the dishes were on the expensive side, the amount of scran that was forthcoming probably justified the brass I coughed up. Besides, if it’s good enough for Pete Waterman, who am I to argue? I’m sure some folk would consider themselves exceedingly lucky, lucky, lucky to find a quirky hostelry such as the Chetwode Arms on their doorsteps - in their imagination, there’d be no complication – they’d be chowing down there all the time.

Food: ✓✓✓✓

Service: ✓✓✓

Ambiance: ✓✓✓

Value: ✓✓

Website: http://www.chetwode-arms.co.uk
Phone number: 01925 730203

Tip: Hi Life Diner's Card accepted Mon-Thurs

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FRODSHAM, HELTER SKELTER - A Crying Frod-shame

Apparently it's a real effort to fill an upstairs restaurant. For starters, folk can't have a shufty or a nose when they're ambling past on other affairs. Out of sight, out of mind. No such bother at this joint. Helter Skelter (formerly Oswald's) is Frodsham's self-proclaimed 'gem of a first floor restaurant', a loftily-positioned stalwart that proves location need not be an impediment to success. This is one severely popular place, operated by the same lot in charge of the busy boozer beneath, whose denizens you weave through en route to the upstairs eatery. 

The restaurant's decor lends a new definition to the term 'hotch-potch'. Mismatched would be an understatement. Can't-make-its-mind-up might be another. And, as you settle yourself beneath the manifold wall art straight off the shelves of B&M Bargains, you do kind of wonder what they were thinking. Not that there is anything wrong with the wares of B&M Bargains. I'm often down there amassing armfuls of ridiculously cheap pasta sauce. And the stuff they have for the garden is ace. Rakes, spades, hoes, trellises - all at a fraction of the cost of the better-known outlets. 

WALL ART: OWL-FUL?

They are, in fact, moving into Chester Forum, set to occupy the long-vacated TJ Hughes unit. Should breathe a bit of life into that dilapidated quarter whose endless empty shops are rather redolent of a mouth missing most of its teeth. 

We landed at Helter Skelter one Thursday evening, wrung out from the rigours of a riotously stressful week. It was alarmingly heaving for a week night; full of business-types partaking of solitary sustenance with noggins buried in books and in phones. We eschewed the steak-and-wine offers and plumped for the A la carte, which changes fairly frequently but always incorporates dependable staples of the ilk of pork belly, rump of lamb and fillet of seabass. Now, I've had a few scrans at this establishment over the last couple of years. The fayre has generally been of a decent standard, and the value spot on. A three course meal for two replete with zesty Sauvignon sets you back around £65. Can't really argue, generally speaking. But, wallet-pleasing prices aside, there was something generally lacking on this visit in terms of food quality. 

BLAND PUDDING AND POT-HATEFUL-CAKE

A starter of Bury black pudding proved one of the most uninspiring, tasteless offerings I've had in a fair while. The menu effusively detailed its accompanying blandishments - crispy potato cake, rich Stilton sauce - but it was thoroughly bland. Quite how they managed to wring every ounce of flavour from that Bury delicacy blows the mind. Accompanying potato cake constituted a rather soggy mush entirely inundated by a moat of sauce that seemingly lacked its eponymous component. Moreover, the colour of the dish - a rather swarthy hue - did little to enhance its appeal. 

PALADIN PORKER

Still, you can't go wrong with a main course of pork belly. Pork's the new beef. It's enjoyed a singular resurgence of late. A porcine revival. Fair dues to the pig in its unswerving ability to produce innumerable pink and salty delights on which to feast the eyes and sate the hunger. What would we do without it? But this pork belly was a tad under par. It was burnt a touch. Not carbonised, but a bit blacker in places than it ought to have been. The lumpy sauce which engulfed it - purportedly sage and chorizo - tasted of neither. 

In fact, there was something of the school dinner about the whole. You could be forgiven for thinking that each constituent element - pork, fat chips, green beans, carrots - had been splattered onto the plate by means of a ladle, as dispensed by a beefy sourpuss in a hairnet. The only saving grace was the £13 price tag but, for the sake of being stung for an extra couple of quid, I'd rather have had something decent. To stave off further disappointment, I didn't bother with a dessert. 

NOT BELLY GOOD

You can't help but think that Helter Skelter seems to be resting on its laurels. And, in a way, I can almost understand that. There isn't a great deal of competition, locally, for the position of pre-eminent small-town bistro (save perhaps for the more formal Old Hall on the high street). And, as such, Helter Skelter has something of a monopoly. It exists in a microcosmic part of the world that's criminally starved of mid- to high-end eateries. But there's no denying the place has a rapt audience. It's always abuzz. People like it. They know what to expect. It won't be changing anything soon, that's for sure. In the past, though, its offering has been pretty reliable. It's just a shame that, on this occasion, it fell so short of its former standards. I'd probably give it another shot. One day. But that day may be a long time coming.

Food: ✓✓

Service: ✓✓✓

Ambiance: ✓✓

Value: ✓✓✓

Website: http://www.helter-skelter.co.uk
Phone number: 01928 713883

Tip: Tastecard & Hi Life Diner's Card accepted Sun-Thurs

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NORTHWICH, THE HANGING GATE - Decent Scran in Weaverham

The New Moon Pub Company's implicit intent to season the Cheshire plains with higher-end gastropubs was a step closer to completion following its acquisition of long-time Weaverham hovel the Hanging Gate. Following its grand relaunch some 18 months since, the revamped Gate was dogged by problems - not least the  inexpert, neglectful service for which it started to get a bad rep. It was peaks and troughs with this place. You didn't always know what you were going to get. Some nights everything was bob on. Others little short of disastrous. It was all too much down to chance, and that ain't a good thing when you're anticipating a stress-free evening of gluttony. In terms of courting and retaining local custom, the Gate didn't exactly make life easy for itself.

Thankfully, most of those difficulties have been eradicated. Gone are the ill-trained staff. Gone, too, the pea-sized waiting area into which diners were routinely shoehorned (and often forgotten about) prior to being summoned to table. (It's been expanded into a proper bar, far more inviting to non-dining folk who want to pop by and sling a jar down their necks.) And, following several retouches, the menu reads like a what's-what of Proper Northern grub. There are hearty, rustic stews, there are manifold dishes with gravy, there are black pudding-based accouterments. This bill of fare has an identity. 

CHESHIRE CURDS

Now, I've heard it said that Cheshire Cheese is the most venerable in the country. I've also heard it claimed it's one of the more underrated. Call it heresy, but I find it hard to get excited over a wedge of Cheshire. It's a bit like chowing on a block of salt; leaves your North and South bone dry. Doesn't even have the texture of a cheese. It's something you'd do well to position atop a mousetrap to lure a dauntless rodent to its demise. So, it was against this biased backdrop that I ordered the Cheshire Cheese & Pickle Sandwich from the HG's starter menu (I really feel they ought to rename it 'buttie' in keeping with the nomenclature of the Norf, though in actual fact it is neither). What arrived was a triumvirate of deep-fried bonbons, perilously rolling around a wooden board as if vying for freedom. Each was separately seasoned, with attendant herb toast and some class of a homemade chutney.

CHEESE TO EAT YOU

I'm a bugger for a deep fried cheese. I can't deny it. Is there anything more decadent, more expedient at clogging the arteries? Cheshire or no Cheshire, I had to give it a whirl. The fact that each bonbon packed its own distinct punch (ranging from neutral to quite piquant) lent a novelty to the dish that I hadn't expected. And the sweet chutney served, thankfully, to offset the saltiness.

MEAT INJECTION

Main course arrived in the shape of the lofty-sounding 'Five Bar Gate'. Now, I don't know whether the Hanging Gate's proprietors have taken a trip down Chester way to Hickory's Smokehouse Grill (which peddles the most intimidating-looking, colossal burgers known to man), but the eponymous Gate was every inch the tower. Armed with beef brisket, onion rings, a chilli injection (see photo) as well as the ubiquitous Cheshire cheese, this was a man's burger. 

It exuded testosterone. I feel sure it had biceps. In fact, I was a little afraid of it. And, as I gingerly attacked the meaty mountain with stainless steel implements (picking this thing up would've been asking for trouble), I could have sworn its torn bun became twisted in an evil snarl. This was something to be reckoned with. This could given anything in Hickory's armory a sound drubbing. 

A PHALANX OF ADVANCING FIVE BAR GATES, YESTERDAY

But here's the puzzler. The brawny burger was seated on a plank, and yet was accompanied by a miniature jug of gravy. I couldn't figure that. There are too many planks and slates out there these days. Bring back the plate. Let it have a renaissance, a rejuven-'plate'-ion. That aside, that gravy was right proper tasty. There's no point denying that. That was fact. So, at length, I was well relieved to have laid the Five Bar Gate to waste. Despite its bellicose appearance, this was as good a burger as I've had. The brisket was so deftly braised that I didn't even have to chew. It just slid down. And the the fat chips were as good as ever. Accompanying Pinot Noir so cheeky a bouquet that it was near begging for a clout round the chops.

CURRANT AFFAIRS

As much as I've always secretly longed to don a hernia belt and frolic with something vaguely approaching abandon, I really couldn't manage a dessert on this occasion. I have had the Eccles Cake offering previously, and this is noted for its lashings of, yes, Cheshire Cheese. That pervasive dairy staple finds its way into everything in the Hanging Gate's oeuvre, sweet or savoury. And I can kind of understand why. Celebrating the local, right? That's what it's about in this day and age. Rightly so, to my mind.

I haven't yet been to any of the other ventures in the New Moon's catalogue, though the one in Kelsall looks mighty appealing, and the enticingly-named Beef and Pudding in Manchester sounds as though it's hitting the right notes.  I think I'll stick with the Hanging Gate for now, butch burgers, Cheshire Cheese and all.

✓✓✓✓Food: 
✓✓✓✓ Service: 
✓✓✓ Ambiance: 
✓✓✓ Value: 
Website: http://www.hanginggate.co.uk/
Phone: 01606 853009
Tip: Hi Life diners card accepted on Friday evenings (2 for 1 on 3 courses). 

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