Milly Mossop

Seven months and one baby later...

Well it took a while but Mozz finally mapped my domain thingy back onto my typepad wotsit so millymossop.com is back, hello!

Since I last checked in we had a baby, in November, and he is cute as pie. In fact he looks much like a pie, having inherited his mother's healthy appetite, and we've called him Jesus after, well, Jesus. 

The first pub we took Baby Jesus to was The Duke in Deptford, South East London, and this will form the basis of my first pub review after far too many months in the wilderness of sobriety (and Asia). A review I will write just as soon as I've finished watching Nanny McPhee...

I am the worst blogger in the world

I quite literally can't believe that I last posted in October of last year. 10 months ago! If this blog were a child it would be handed over to social services quicker than you could say "oopsie".

Anyway, so what I'm going to do is re-design the site, learn how to upload photos and stuff and then do a big re-launch, as if that was the idea all along and I've just spent the last 10 months coming up with a really good plan. Downside of course being that whatever I come up with will seem like a shit plan for 10 months work.

For now I just wanted to share some news, except I don't think I've got any readers left, so this is going to feel a bit like talking to a wall. I'm getting married! Woo hoo! (Wall stares back impassively and thinks 'what, you expect me to go out and buy a hat?')

Well, Wall, just in case you grow some ears and a sense of romance, let me tell you it was incredibly exciting. May 18th in Montgomery, Wales, overlooking beautiful countryside. I laughed then I cried, then I laughed again (then he said "are you going to say yes?" so I did) then we went for a pint in the Crown Inn. Good pub.

The date's fixed for May next year in Northumberland and so far no one involved has fallen out with anyone else which by all accounts is a minor miracle. Still, plenty of time yet.  I have 5 wonderful bridesmaids, recently re-branded boozemaids after our latest attempt at wedding dress shopping (in fairness this time we looked at dresses before drinking our body weight in Chardonnay. Although I wish someone had spotted the cow muck on my jeans before we went into the posh Pimlico bridal shop, I'm sure the lady noticed). And I have a Mate of Honour - Gandolf - who I have to say I'm congratulating myself on appointing. He's just like a Maid of Honour - supportive, encouraging, reassuring, wise - without being a girl about it. With Gandolf it's all short, pithy emails and colour coded spreadsheets. I can't write an email of less than 200 words and spreadsheets scare me. So hurrah for boozemaids and mates of honour! I'm hoping I get to keep them after the wedding.

So, pubs.... Wall, how would you feel if this blog took on more of a bridal tone than a 'pubs I've been to' tone for the next 9 months?... It's just that a) hard not to think about the wedding when I have 20 minutes downtime in front of the computer and b) the pretty wedding dress I saw on Tuesday will look even prettier without a 9 month London Pride baby filling it out.

But I will try, I promise. Ok, what pubs have I been to recently?... The Grosvenor, Sidney Road, SW9 - brilliant and bad as ever. The Warwick, Warwick Way, Pimlico - really like that actually (not that I can remember it after the 3rd bottle of Chardonnay) and the food smelled good too (just wish I'd had some). The Oddfellow Arms in Alnwick has had a change of management again and doesn't do ale at all at the moment - I really hope they do by next May because it's the ideal pub for wedding guests to congregate in before the service, near the church and HUGE beer garden. See, couldn't last 3 pubs before I brought the wedding up again. Sorry.

Mozz is round at Macbeth's doing a Battlestar Galactica marathon (remember they used to live together in Balham? Now they live 500 metres apart in Stockwell. It's sweet in a slightly disturbing way. I don't think Mozz ever grew out of boarding school). When he's not here our sofa is always broken (it only works if we're both on it together) so really I should be grateful for his childish interest in '70s science fiction bad remakes because it gets me in front of the computer with an empty head.

But maybe I should take a good book to bed with me instead. Which reminds me, I read a genuinely excellent laugh-and-cry-out-loud book the other day, Wife in the North by Judith O'Reilly. She's got a blog as well which I'm going to add to my side bar in a gently sycophantic, fawning way (*I want to be like you when I grow up and have babies and live in the back of beyond and write books*).

And that's all, Wall. See you again in another 10 months. Or the next time the boys are watching Battlestar Galactica, which will be hopefully sooner.

The Duchess, Battersea Park Road, London

You're lucky I can remember anything about this pub to tell you- I drank wine there with Becca last night, and not really that much wine, but it had a strange effect on me...

Now I'm not suggesting for a second someone spiked my drink (I'm a bit of a munter), and in fact I've noticed a common factor in evenings involving booze that go awry, and that's the Becca Factor.

But I think my relationship has just about survived him, having just got into bed, having to drive to Battersea to pick me a up a little, shall we say, worse for wear, so no permanent damage done.

Besides, I really have to applaud Becca for finding a right cracker of a pub. The pipe tapping, chin rubbing chaps of beerintheevening are up in tweedy arms about the conversion of The Duchess from an honest, working man's boozer into a gastropub, but I honestly think it's a commendable success.

This is no identikit gastropub with a clean smell and uniform furniture. Each individual piece, from spongey leather sofars to funky, zebra striped chairs, looks as if it's been hungrily searched out in auction rooms by someone who planned to spend their lifetime sitting on them. It looks like that but I'm sure isn't the case. Still, appearances are everything.

They had Abbott on all 3 pumps, which makes a refreshing change from Youngs around here (and I'm wishing I'd drunk that instead of vast bowls of white Rioja..) so I could take my father there. In fact I could take anyone there; it's got decent, reasonably priced wine, a smashing terrace out the back, and they're going to start doing food very soon. Oh and the toilets are pretty fab too. And, I almost forgot, it's directly opposite Battersea Power Station which is about as spectacular a view as you'll get in London.

I'm giving The Duchess 8 out of 10, and she's only losing 2 points because I had to walk half an hour from Vauxhall tube station to find it; there are closer stations in fairness but generally it's a bit far from anywhere useful. Then again, if it was in the heart of things, it would be too popular and crowded, so let's give her 1 back and call it 9.

Not bad for a Battersea boozer.

Introducing our new local! The ???? Arms, ???? Road, SW9, London

Bad news: I've been alternately too busy and too tired to do much blogging recently.
Best news ever!!!! That's because Mozz has successfully bought a house and we're moving in! Once we've got a bed, fridge, carpet, van, a free weekend to move...

What we have done though, as a priority in fact, is check out our new local, on the day we picked up the keys.

The ???? Arms on ???? Road is everything you could wish for in a local boozer. Which is why I need to protect its identity - call me a selfish cow, but this is one pub I'm keeping for me and Mozz. And all our friends. And of course the other good people of our new local community.

What I will say is that it's the only pub in London I know that took the new 24 hour licensing law seriously...

So, three cheers for the ???? Arms, Mozz's new house, and our first home!

Yours,

Milly (very tired but very happy)

The Ship Tavern, Best Pub in Holborn, London

I'm very fortunate in that in my place of work are a handful of like minded people who enjoy real pubs, real ale, and exploring the area local to the office in search of both.

Chiefs amongst these are the FD, of whom you've already heard, and the FC, and it is to these fine two gentlemen I turn first when I fancy trying somewhere new.

Last Friday that somewhere was The Ship Tavern, an attractive looking pub tucked coyly behind Holborn Station.

We got there at a reasonable time, about 5.45 but it was already heaving inside and out. But if you could look beyond the crowds and the rather overwhelming amount of St George's flag bunting, you could see that this is actually a charming, olde worlde yet well preserved tavern. One of those pubs that's busy on a Friday evening for good reason, it's good. Not just conveniently located.

Now unfortunately, I didn't do my new trick of taking a photo of the beer pumps so I'm relying on memory here... I know I had Bombardier all night, which was superb. The helpful beer mat (it's like they knew I was coming) offers the following analysis:

Style: Premium bitter / ABV 4.3%

Smell: Citrus / spicy / biscuit

Taste: Smooth / sweet - bitter balance

And indeed we all agreed that this was accurate enough. Actually FC stayed with Marstons, and he knows his stuff so that must've been good, and Scott started on IPA, but moved onto Bombardier quick enough.

There was also a bar snack menu, and exactly the kind you want on a friday night: pork pie, scotch egg, pickled egg. A pork pie each with our last pints probably rescued me from a hangover the next day. Oh, it's worth mentioning that after only about 15 minutes of standing awkardly thinking 'if we don't get seats soon let's move somewhere else' we got a big table, which definitely helped.

My only quibble with the Ship Tavern is the music: WHY?!?? Call me a grumpy old luddite, but in my world, good beer and banter don't mix well with last year's top 40. But even this isn't enough to topple The Ship from it's newly crowned glory of Best Holborn Pub (I just had a little ceremony under my desk whilst colleagues weren't looking). Ta da!

Canton Arms, South Lambeth Road, London

Where are we? Monday, right. So yesterday Becca ran the Marathon -majestically, seemingly effortlessly (although she went on to sleep under a dozen bags of frozen peas and couldn't even sit down to pee today) - Saturday I got pished with Molly and Nic, Friday I, ah yes! The Ship Tavern, I'll do that next. And Thursday, Thursday I went on a pub crawl of Stockwell where Mozz is hopefully (keep your fingers crossed!) buying a house.

Sadie already lives in Stockwell, so she volunteered to take us on a magical mystery tour of all her favourite haunts, with her boyfriend Face, and then I roped in Becca and Mrs Fox, and then Angus joined us too, oh and Face's friend the Gardener.

And, as you've probably experienced yourself, trying to keep eight people moving on a pub crawl when they all arrive at the first one at different times with varying appetites and individual needs and desires etc etc, well it's quite tricky. So we just stayed in the first pub all night - The Canton Arms.

For some reason that I'm not entirely sure of, I'm putting off putting any thought into the Canton Arms, or rather trying to interpret the fuddled thoughts I do have into words. Don't get me wrong, I had a wicked night, great to see everyone, and I'm looking forward lots to (hopefully) being neighbours with Sadie, and Becca works just down the road as well which is uber skill.

Sadie wants me to make the point that the Canton Arms isn't normally full of City wankers in suits taking up all the oxygen with huge, great big laughs and no discernible jokes. And it was weird seeing them so far from the City, they looked as out of place as a Welsh farmer in the Corney & Barrow.

To protect our ears and eyes therefore we sat outside, which was pleasant enough. The choice of ales was nice and varied: Deuchars, Landord, Hobgoblin and guest ale Side Pocket for a Toad (Tring) which I started on. And moved quickly on to Landlord. Thing is, since then I've looked Side Pocket for a Toad up on t'internet and gather it's a bit of a celebrity in the ale world, so I have to conclude that either my ale taste buds haven't matured yet (well I am only 30, and a girl to boot) or that the Canton Arms' dishwasher leaks into the cellar. Landlord was great though.

But to compensate for my fall from ale grace with the Toad, I did persuade lager boy Face to drink Landlord, which I'm especially proud of.

We ate at the Canton Arms as well, very well in fact, from the curry menu. I had lamb curry and then 'helped' Mrs Fox with her veggie curry as well (she's got a much smaller tummy than mine, doesn't need as much to fill it).

And, a little bit randomly, the Gardener brought a tomato plant seedling in a mug for Sadie to nurture. Which reminds me, I'm going to start a new category - Milly's Garden - to track the fascinating progress of my tomato, chili and courgette plants. And olive tree! New (hopefully) garden is South facing which, as I understand it, means we are going to enjoy Mediterranean style cuisine from garden to plate, as Hugh Fernley-Thingystall would put it.

Anyway, I digress, albeit deliberately.

The Canton Arms: actually I think it's a fantastic pub to meet in, and if it were a teenage girl it would have lots of friends because it's eager to please, a sort of virginal tart. I kinda wish she were a bit more a careless bitch, and only wanted to be friends with Sadie and her crew, but all I'm really doing there is demanding perfection. Not a bad aspiration for someone whose blog is subtitled 'In search of the Perfect Pub', but if I'm honest I was never expecting to find it in London anyway.

Very happy to have found the Canton Arms though, and definitely looking forward to a weekend visit with just locals and chums hanging out, no try hard work 'mates' having a who-can -laugh-the-loudest contest.

By the way, I almost forgot, I went for a run tonight! Got a bit lost, and had to walk some of the way, but think I just about managed to post justify the weekend's considerable beer intake. Life's a see-saw like that, innit?

O'Neills, Cannon Street, London

I've not got a problem with O'Neills pubs. This one on Cannon Street is particularly appealing - good location, good space for outdoor drinking, non smoking area that doesn't breathe piety through the rest of the pub, table service for drinks - yep, it's a good option when there's no proper, CAMRA approved type pubs nearby (which there probably are in fairness, but Mozz and Benny were already in O'Neills).

There. 5 pubs and a picnic reviewed in under an hour. Do I get a medal for that?

I had to clear the backlog because tonight I'm visiting at least 3 pubs in Stockwell with Sadie, and tomorrow I've lined up a corker of a pub in Holborn with the FD, then meeting Mozz and his friends visiting from Manchester (the Mozz school of planning dictates that I won't know which borough of London, let along which pub, until about 6.00pm tomorrow).

Anyway, back to the day job...

The George, Balham Hill, London

The George is a pub that should generate more affection and loyalty than it does. There's nothing wrong with it per se, and there's lots right with it (Adnams Broadside, outdoor seating, decent Sunday roast, opposite Benny and Moos' flat, near the Common), it's just lacking the 'je ne sais quoi' that turns a pub from bland to grand.

It's probably a good place to meet lots of people though, with big tables and enough space. But to be honest, if that's the best thing I can find to say about a pub, then it's probably a good time to stop.

La Pampa Grill, Northcote Road, London

I'd read brilliant and awful reviews of La Pampa Grill, and having been I'm firmly in the brilliant camp.

Yes it's rowdy, jumbled and the service is more burnished bronze than silver, but that's exactly what you want 4 pints down on a Friday night. We loved it. And the steaks are as good as you'll get in London. Mozz , Lola and Jimbo had theirs with two fried eggs on top.

Afterwards we went to The Duck, where Lola used to work and still knows the staff, but I'm afraid I'd had a drop too much wine with my steak and don't feel I can do The Duck justice based on my memories of it from Friday. Damn it, I'll just have to go back and experience it properly.

All in all, a tip top bantertastic night. And I rather think Angus may be a little sweet on Wilma... stay tuned to watch this romance unfold... (or if that's all you're interested in, come back in two weeks, Wilma's just buggered off to Sri Lanka).

The Pitcher and Piano, Northcoate Road, London

After my sharpener in Holborn last Friday, I hot footed it to Clapham Junction, there to meet Mozz, Lola & Jimbo, later on Wilma and Angus (who hadn't met each other before, cue clumsy match making from me and Mozz...)

After walking up Northcote Road for quite some time, looking for some al fresco seating, we ended up at The Pitcher and Piano. Now, I wouldn't normally bother mentioning a Pitcher and Piano on this hallowed site, but the one on Northcote Road is actually worthy of differentiation.

It's a bit of a tardis, so when you see the 5 or 6 occupied tables on (but off) the street you'd assume the smallish looking building inside is heaving, but actually it sort of tulip bulbs into a rather spacious seating area at the back. And the furniture looks like someone (not necessarily someone with taste, but someone nonetheless) chose it, rather than having been delivered from head office.

We didn't sit inside though, we perched on the low wall outside and glared at a table of City Boyz until they left, and took their table.

But the main item on the evening's agenda was Argentine steak, so after a couple of pints we traipsed back down Northcote Road to La Pampa Grill...