Introduction

I am no cook, but I reckon to fry an egg as well as the next man. Why is it, then, that the British pub – ancient symbol of our greatest social institution – finds this simple task so difficult to perform properly, let alone produce an appetizing pie, roast or stew? Whatever the pub and restaurant guides may say about the dramatic rise in the quality of our kitchens (and I do not argue with them), in our provinces at least, any tourist who cares about eating is still unwise not to lay careful plans before embarking on an excursion. In the words of A.N. Wilson, ‘If you are hungry in a pub you either light a cigarette, buy a bag of nuts, or go home and cook for yourself.’