Food and Drink

The Duchess

My friend only likes brown pubs. Brown doesn’t refer to colour, nor politics; for him brown pubs reflect a state of mind. Alcopops and 3-for-2 offers are not brown, nor are poker machines and tacky refurbs. His ideal pub is cosy, old, local and unpretentious. And it usually has a dog.
The Duchess had a total renovation recently, but don’t let the up-to-the-minute interior fool you; by my friend’s definition it’s a brown pub. Since it’s a freehouse, the owners – a fine artist and former music promoter – didn’t even have to answer to a brewery. They’ve followed their hearts instead of any corporate manual, and I reckon this could be the secret of their success.
The artist half of the publican pair sourced reclaimed fittings and oversaw the renovation. It’s capacious, but thanks to dark colours and iconoclastic, comfy seating it feels intimate. Unusually for such a trendy looking place, it’s outrageously friendly. We visited on an open mic night, where strangers talked to us, Skippy the dog lay at our feet and the Power Station stood over protectively. (Has it always looked so good? Up close and after four pints it became the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.)
We dined on a heaving board of charcuterie that could have fed a small, lucky army. It’s designed for sharing, which says a bit about the convivial atmosphere the pub promotes. It would be hard to praise the chicken breast that followed enough, especially the lip-smacking, crisp skin and side of creamed kale. My friend battled with a very big lamb shank that was rich and tender. He also seemed to enjoy the Dauphinois potatoes, as I don’t recall being offered any. For afters, brownie and crumble swiftly disappeared, but forkfuls of banoffie pie cadged off a man who at the start of the night had been a stranger were magnificent. It’s rare to come across a refurbished boozer that’s held onto the trappings of the truly traditional public house. The Duchess has done it with grace.