The Abbott’s Mitre

Posted on August 19, 2020

I don’t know about everyone else, but the more I learn to cook at home, the worse pub food seems. Let’s face it, £13.00 for a chicken burger featuring a bit of salad and some mayo, washed down with a £9.00 glass of wine, is not good value.

So, it makes a pleasant change to write a gushing Blog about The Abbott’s Mitre in Chilbolton. I go in there about once a week at the most, with the dog. I get a meal for about a tenner, and a glass of wine for around £6.50. My dog gets a hearty handful of biscuits that he is now used to, which leads to much excitement upon entrance.  

I am always greeted warmly but just as I like it, they are never all over you like a cheap suit. They give the impression they are genuinely pleased to see you. Last night I went in and had a tasty vegetable curry with rice and naan bread, washed down with a tasty sauvignon blanc. The dog got his biscuits.

When I went to pay, I had forgotten it was government giveaway night and the bill came to £13.00 which included the meal and a 250ml glass of wine. I instantly felt a bit bad about that, as it can’t leave a lot to pay staff, so I offered to pay the full amount (about £19.00). They refused to take it.

So, off I went into the increasingly dark autumn evening. I don’t quite know what it is that sets one pub aside from another, but I think it is the feeling that people are treating you in a manner that is natural.

Too often I find people annoying me by persistently asking if everything is ok. I am not rude enough to say “it would be if you fucked off and left me alone” but I do feel like it sometimes; especially when I know a ground-breaking bill for mediocrity is on its way.

I know it shouldn’t be a lot to ask but I think I have worked out how The Abbott’s Mitre appear to be making their business model work. They do the basics well, and by achieving that, I feel obliged to go back. The dog obviously appreciates it too, because when I walked past there the other day without any intention of going in, he dragged me to the door.

He got his biscuits, which meant I had to do the right thing and have a quick pint. I really had no choice.


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