‘We call you DFL’s round here’.
Nice to meet you too, new pub friend. DFL means ‘down from London’ and we couldn’t really defend ourselves on that one. Our new pub friends softened up once we told them we had got married yesterday. After a nice chat about where else we should go for dinner in Bath (whilst I surreptitiously took photos of their caramel dog) we tucked into our Sunday roast.
The King William Pub in Bath was the first place we found on Tripadvisor. We’d arrived at our accommodation early that day and taken an extended trip to Morrisons whilst the cleaner cleaned. As dinner time approached we couldn’t face more decision-making having spent the past eleven months making wedding related decisions. It had a nice picture, high ratings, was a 5-minute drive away and had free parking (on Sundays) across the road.
The turquoise frontage was inviting and we walked in to a quirky pub with equally quirky looking clientele and staff. We were seated in a corner and took all of 3 seconds to agree that it was Sunday and the only suitable food for two tired newlyweds was a fat roast dinner. It did not disappoint.
The Yorkshire pudding was the size of my face and it harboured a roast potato inside. Juicy roast chicken and an assortment of veg were sat in the richest and silkiest gravy. It hinted dark chocolate and I made a mental note to ask the chef what was in it but in the end, I completely forgot to ask. My husband of 24 hours and I didn’t speak for 20 minutes whilst we gorged, meeting eyes every now and then to agree, by grunting, that it was ridiculously delicious.
Neither of us could particularly move once we’d finished but the dessert menu was placed in front of us and the words ‘sticky toffee pudding’ leapt into our eyes. Our favourite. Now, we could have shared. We’d literally said ‘all that I have I share with you’ in our vows the day before, and we were stuffed. But no. One each please, kind waiter.
This sticky toffee was Bruce Bogtrotter enormous and it sat in a puddle of shiny toffee sauce and rapidly melting vanilla ice cream. It was deeply sweet and stuck to every corner of our mouths. We were not defeated and our tummies were fit to burst once we’d finished. I can’t describe the feeling of being so content from eating. Suffice to say we went back to our Air B&B and had a wild night of sleeping.
Over the next two days in Bath we did go to a couple of our new pub friends’ recommended eateries. We ate our bodyweight in steak and chips at Hudson Steakhouse and drank cocktails with unpronounceable ingredients in a Prohibition style, shadowy cornered basement bar called The Dark Horse. I felt squiffy after one, which I think is a good sign especially when the price of each drink was in double figures. Our only misdemeanour was (our choice, should have stuck to local knowledge) heading to Thaikun for dinner one evening – we had a nice time, but the food was pricey, ok tasting and the décor tried much too hard to be authentic. We were trying to evoke our honeymoon to Thailand later this year but agreed to leave our culinary Thai adventures until we are actually in Thailand rather than Bath.