Been a long old while since I’ve crossed the threshold of the Lamb & Packet, I thought to myself, but not in those exact words, as I crossed the threshold of the Lamb & Packet Tuesday evening.
Two seconds later, metaphorically rubbing my eyes in surprise, I wondered whether I’d ever crossed the threshold of the Lamb & Packet at all.
To say this Friargate pub has changed since my last visit is some understatement.
In place of the cramped grimy out-and-out bloke’s boozer I last departed all those yonks ago, was a smart and spotless bar clearly pitched across the gender divide.
Proof positive being that between the staff and an albeit modest early evening crowd I was the sole male on the premises.
Which is just fine by me, so long as the ladies do not begin talking loudly about their romantic entanglements causing me to blush furiously, which they promptly did, so I blushed furiously. Well not furiously. Is hard to be furious with a cracking pint of Lancaster Bomber in hand.
Easy drinking old school brown beer this, with a malty scent and big full flavour.
Subtle on the way down though, leaving a flowery note of farewell to warm the cockles nicely.
Nothing else to tempt me cask-wise, am afraid – this being a Thwaites house the ubiquitous Wainwright was all that came close – so I resorted to the bottles.
No great hardship there though, as I’d guess the Lamb & Packet has a roster of bottled craft ale to rival anywhere in the city centre. Except the one I wanted, as it turned out.
‘I’ll have one of them,’ I said, pointing at a picture of a König Ludwig Weissbier in the laminated menu, salivating, soon to be thwarted.
Ah well, an ince cool crisp Erdinger wheatbeer hit just the same spot. A good pub, will not leave it so long again.
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