The White Horse Inn
Stout had to think a bit about this edition of the column. Wondering if he could make this entry work and wondering if he should try.
It is not a regular Stout and About. But then it wasn’t a regular day.
Stout journeyed to Bradford, way up in Yorkshire. He had a great Granny who thrived up there until she bade farewell a few weeks ago.
That’s great as in brilliant, rather than the mother of your grandmother!
Granny Stout was an artist with a lust for life. She had the spirit of adventure and once toured Ireland and Scotland in her camper van when well into her 70s.
She would stop randomly along the way to paint scenic vistas, some of which hang in the Stout family home and the homes of many others too.
There was hippie-spirit to Granny Stout. She could play life cool when others grew stale from the heat, which is probably why she’d enjoy a Guinness review entry from one of her favourite retreats, on the day of her farewell.
After fitting goodbyes and warm tributes, the extended family Stout retired to The White Horse Inn which was suitably perched on top of a hill in Thornton with scenic views in every direction.
It was a sombre occasion but the day was bright, the pub was warm and the welcome was “that and all,” as the locals would say.
The gang sat and chatted by one of the big open fires (you don’t get those in London) and enjoyed a pint with relations and cousins, who were filled by hearty food and watered by tea, and or Guinness.
“Are ye avin one lad,” asked Stout’s uncle in a thick northern accent. With that, the tap went down. So did elbows on the bar. The atmosphere was peaceful, the pour, easy and slow. Perfect even!
When the pints were rested on the counter, the dome lipped just above the top of the glass, just like it should too. The appearance was picture perfect — Granny Stout couldn’t have drawn it better.
“Ehhhhh they look good lad,” said Uncle Stout and they tasted damn good too. But then Stout kinda knew they would be– Granny Stout always had great taste. She knew a thing or two about a thing or two and if The White Horse had her stamp of approval, then it was beyond debate. No reviewer could argue otherwise.
So Stout took a slug and looked out the window as the setting winter sun peaked rays between far away hills.
Granny Stout – 89 years young. At heart she always was.
The verdict: A last farewell
The Pour 4
The Appearance 5
The Taste 4
The Ambience 5
The Price: £3.10