A pub performing not at all badly

THOSE who remember Neil Morrissey playing one of the lager-loutish lads in the TV sitcom Men Behaving Badly will probably think it sort of inevitable that the actor would end up as the owner of a pub.

That it should be a tiny village boozer in out-of-way Marton-cum-Grafton, near Boroughbridge, is a little more surprising. But what brought “Tony” to North Yorkshire was another “lad” – co-owner Richard Fox, the “beer chef” from nearby Harrogate – and what Mr Morrissey has described as the perfect village pub, Ye Olde Punch Bowl.

It is a fine looking pub, but no more so than hundreds of others in the county and further afield. What may have made it perfect for Mr Morrissey and Mr Fox is its proximity to York, Harrogate and Leeds and its well-heeled patrons of gastro-pubs.

Mr Morrissey made it clear when he re-opened Ye Olde Punch Bowl that he wasn’t playing at being a publican, he was doing it because he loved beer and he loved pubs, and he wanted to make money too.

The pub is by no means an ego-trip for either gentlemen.

On arrival last Sunday lunchtime, there was little to suggest the celebrity connection apart from discreet references to Morrissey Fox ale, the beer that’s produced by the micro-brewery at the back of the pub.

The interior is traditional country pub (lots of old beams, exposed brick, oak floor) with a contemporary twist provided by a cream and sage colour scheme and modern arty prints on the walls. The bar lies at the centre with lots of small nooksand- cranny dining areas to the front and side. On collecting a half pint of Morrissey Fox Blonde Ale (looks like lager, tastes like a slightly floral bitter) and a Coke, we were taken to a table in one of the larger dining areas, an attractive enough table to be sure, but with the disadvantage of a large and very unyielding cast iron central support which it was difficult to avoid banging the knees against.

The Sunday lunch menu is simple with five starters including a soup of the day and a black pudding dish along with our choices, a poached haddock and prawn salad with dill mayonnaise for Sylvia and a chicken liver parfait with onion marmalade for me.

Sylvia’s salad was delicately presented within a large, curled salad leaf. She thought the seafood elements a bit bland, but the haddock was almost meaty in texture and the dill mayonnaise rich and creamy.

My parfait was a thick slice of earthy terrine, a bit on the crumbly side perhaps, but the onion marmalade provided the necessary sweet counterpoint.

Bread and butter was served with the starters. The bread was on the uninteresting side of dull, the butter, according to the butter expert, was “absolutely first class”.

Main courses included sirloin of beef with Yorkshire pudding, baked salmon, a sweet potato and wild mushroom risotto and, for Sylvia, lemon roasted chicken served with the pan juices. She considered this pretty good, flavoursome, if a little dry at the extremities.

My Gloucester Old Spot pork loin came with an apple cider sauce and some excellent crackling. The three good slices were again of excellent flavour but just a little overcooked, something of a sin with a cut which has a tendency to dryness at the best of times. Salvation came in the form of a rich and well seasoned gravy.

I thought the very crunchy roast potatoes, swede, broccoli and roasted julienne carrots and parsnip rather good, apart from the lukewarm swede. Sylvia thought the roasted potatoes and vegetables in particular were too skizzled for her taste.

Proceedings were brought to a close by a nicely sharp glazed lemon tart with mango sorbet. I liked the tart but wasn’t sure the combination with the sorbet worked.

Perhaps the sorbet should have been a mite sweeter.

Conversely, Sylvia loved the sorbet, but was less keen on the tart.

Service by the all-female team was mainly efficient and charming. On a couple of occasions we thought we had been forgotten but only momentarily.

With two halves of the Blonde beer and two diet Cokes, our bill was £37, which we considered fair value for a better than average Sunday pub lunch served by willing and enthusiastic staff.

Of Mr Morrissey, there was no sign. We suspect his acting commitments means he doesn’t spend much time pulling pints behind the bar of his pub. Clearly a man behaving responsibly.