The Brewers Arms

Several months ago I did a review of a burger I had in the Brewers Arms, in which I commented on the laughably small size of the portion I was served. My comments didn’t go down too well with the landlord. What size of burger did I expect, he wrote, for £2.50? How did I manage to get the price wrong in the review? And how dare I call our front room faux posh? After a flurry of e-mails, I promised to return to the pub in the future to do another review.

I order a burger, of course. An eight-ounce cheeseburger, to be on the safe side. With chips and side salad. This time my companions, who have all gone for the breaded fish and chips options, don’t laugh. In fact, I think I can see envy in at least one pair of eyes as I pick up the beast and prepare for my first bite. All is well with the world. It’s Friday, and England have been racking up a great score in the cricket next door. I’m hungry and there’s a large plate of food in front of me. And a pint of Harveys, too. I take a bite. It’s good beef, and cooked just right, so the juices run in your mouth. There’s a nice aftertaste of cheese. The floury bap is the right size, it doesn’t interfere too much with the taste of the meat. And the best thing is that after my first bite, I know there are at least seven or eight to come. Best burger in town? Watch this space. AL