The Beacon, Penrith. The world’s stumpiest obelisk.
With time to kill before getting the train back to London I had a few hours to spare in Penrith. Apparently due to the terror threat to the people of the Lakes the train station isn’t doing baggage storage (me neither) so I humped my weekend bag up to the Beacon to earn my pub lunch, thankful that I’d let Sharon and Trav look after the trumpet in the boot of their car.
Lunch was taken in the Agricultural Hotel, picked because it wasn’t showing football. You can go table service or bar meal in the AH and I picked the latter. A pint of Jennings’ Best was the perfect accompaniment to a chicken curry and with a table next to the open fire I’d hit the sweet spot of unpretentious rural dining.
Fellow diners were all locals, mostly opting for Sunday roasts (they looked good, the roasts weren’t bad either (arf)) with a Christmas party in the Saloon. Service was cheerful, it’s easy to see how they’ve built a regular clientèle.
The curry could have been spicier but there was plenty of it with rice, a naan bread (I knew I was back on home territory when they asked if I wanted chips too, thereby achieving the holy trinity of stodge) and mango chutney as sides. A pint of the broodingly dark and powerful Sneck Lifter (a Timothy Dalton of a pint) rounded things off nicely and I was ready for the trip south.
8/10
#Food #LakeDistrict
To see which other restaurants I’ve visited in 2016/7 check out my GoogleMap
