Bull

 

I can't - won't - comment on our result in the rugby today. Suffice it to say that Italy made a far better fist of it today against Ireland than we did against England. We now find ourselves firmly in the wooden spoon position in the tables... We went over to Beaumaris - Biwmaris, yn Gymraeg - for lunch at the Bull today: a fine hotel and pub/bistro with its history stretching back before the Civil War, Cromwell having used the place, and where we have eaten well in the past. In recent years, the only food to be had was in the bistro itself, something we kind of lamented, as thirty years ago, we used to have plates of sandwiches delivered to the snug to consume over pints of Bass ale. Recently, there has been a change of ownership and, in what we initially felt was a positive move, they re-introduced bar-food to the place.

It turns out that this was a classic case of be careful what you wish for, as 'twould seem that the kitchen brigade is still the same size as before, as is front of house, whose duties also include manning the bar itself. The upshot is that the number of lunchtime covers has probably more than doubled, taking in the bistro itself, the bar and snug, and the residents' lounge to boot, taking the overspill from the rest. End result: misplaced orders and food of a decidedly lax quality: my eighteen-quid battered haddock having sat for far too long on the pass, resulting in overcooked fish and batter going soggy: previously, I've eaten beautifully-cooked fish there. It's a great pity that new [in this case, probably corporate] owners of small businesses so often get it so wrong, tampering with a winning formula through either naivety or just plain hubris. That said, the Bass and Hancock's ales and the ancient ambience of the place are still worth the visit, so they haven't entirely lost my interest or future custom...