While heading to the George and Dragon in Clifton, Cumbria, I got to thinking about how rarely this once common pub name gets doled out nowadays. Noble Saint George, battling some sort of ferocious lizard to protect a princess, or something; the details have always been hazy. Anyway, George and his dragon have had their day. It’s much safer to call your new venture something along the lines of Moodz or Fantazee Bar; words with deliberate typos to denote the madcap mood inside: cocktails in fishbowls, plastic “greenery” on the walls, someone playing a “DJ set” off a laptop while their friends film the crowd on their phones, and the crowd films the DJ. Such fun.
Absolutely none of this happens at the George and Dragon, and has not done for centuries. Imagine The Woolpack on Emmerdale Farm circa 1985, but with its own delightful collection of paintings and artefacts from Tudor and Stuart times, plus three wood fires and lots of cosy spots in which to settle. The walls teem with quaint farm, field and local cultural artefacts, and hammer home that this is a very old pub, tastefully restored in 2008, but decidedly unspoiled.
Rustic chic, I’m calling it. Yes, there is now an open kitchen in the large, informal dining room, serving rather fancy curried chicken scotch eggs and fine local cheese with fig tarte tatin, but as you sit by the fire you imagine that, at any moment, a border reiver might pop in for a quick pint and a breather from pilfering sheep. The George and Dragon, you see, is part pub, part living history. American tourists wander in with gasps and squeaks, reading up on Mary Queen of Scots from a wall scroll or pointing at etchings of Bonnie Prince Charlie, as if this is the Olde Britain they’ve been searching for on their tour of “the North”; it certainly has a sense of wildness and brooding that you don’t get at the Costa at the Caledonia Park shopping outlet in Gretna.
All this preservation costs money, of course. The George and Dragon is a country estate pub, and part of the Askham Collection. Askham Hall, a Grade I-listed mansion, is just up the road, complete with its Michelin-starred restaurant Allium and, for poetry lovers, its associations with Wordsworth; the same group also runs another pub, The Queen’s Head, close by. This whole area is both a quick skip off the M6 before you cross the English/Scottish border, but at the same time an isolated hinterland, where public transport is patchy, 3G a fantasy and your journey may be hampered by stray sheep and suicidal pheasants.
When you eventually get to the George and Dragon, however, you can settle by the fire with a plate of truffle and parmesan gougeres, all fluffy, warm and generously proportioned, and not at all like those light bites of cheesy air you get down in London. Bread and butter comes with a rich tapenade and churned butter, while a simple plate of anchovies were some of the best I’ve eaten: strikingly fresh, dressed in oil, lemon zest and vinegar, and breathtakingly good. We could have stopped there and been happy.
But we didn’t. That aforementioned curried scotch egg is warm, with a crunchy exterior covering a pressed chicken casing and a runny yolk, and comes with mango chutney and a soothing coriander raita. We had our eyes on the house-made pies, so I had to forgo the lobster taco and the twice-baked cheese and chive souffle just to save some space. After all, if chef Gareth Webster and his team are going to the trouble of making pies fresh every day, it would be a huge shame not to taste them.
The day we went, there was game pie packed with local venison, with sides of triple-cooked chips and grilled garden greens. The pies are served shepherd’s pie-style, with a buttery mash topping and the filling gently oozing out. The fish option was stuffed with prawns, cod and salmon. You will not leave here hungry. The vegetarian offering was genuinely fresh, handmade pappardelle with grilled artichoke, peas and broad beans, all swimming in truffled butter. I am aware that Italians have very strong feelings about serving pasta with butter sauces, but don’t shoot the messenger: it is still delicious.
I’ve already planned my next trip to the George and Dragon, this time with a bigger group and factoring in a country walk and the chance for me to bore on at my captive audience about Tudor history and the 1547 rough wooing at the Battle of Pinkie. A pub that comes complete with a history lesson might not be for everyone, but at least this one gives you Blue Whinnow cheese with fig tarte tartin, thyme honey and sour apple chutney for afters. Or a crumble. Historically, just about everyone sane loves crumble.
George and Dragon Clifton, Penrith, Cumbria, 01768 865381. Open lunch Fri & Sat, noon-3pm, Sun 1-8pm; dinner Mon-Sat 5-9pm. From about £35 a head à la carte; set Sunday lunch, £24.50 for two course, £29.50 for three, all plus drinks and service.
The fourth episode in the new series of Grace Dent’s Comfort Eating podcast goes live on Tuesday 17 October. Listen to it here. Her new book of the same name is published by Guardian Faber for £20; to order a copy for £16, visit guardianbookshop.com
