Wait until next year

The Tamworth Tap is a three-time CAMRA National Pub of the Year. I felt a degree of trepidation before entering. There’s always a worry with anything so acclaimed that it might not live up to its billing, might be a disappointment, might be something I just don’t get.

I get this feeling with books, films, TV, as well as pubs. I don’t think it is quite inverted snobbery, a sense that if something is popular it can’t be good. More, I think it is a feeling that perhaps my tastes might not be calibrated with those who have brought forth the praise. And this is even more keenly felt with anything CAMRA. It is a good organisation, doing good things, but sometimes the pubs its members value can be…odd choices. Other times they get it spot-on, but there is no guarantee. I have spent a few afternoons collared by a CAMRA Man telling me their pub philosophy and their views have rarely matched mine.

So, trepidation, hesitation, doubt.

I need not have worried. The Tamworth Tap is wonderful, majestic even. It is a validation of whatever process CAMRA undertake when choosing their pub of the year. It’s as good as a pub could be. It’s one of those places where you just keep ticking off your list of what would be in your dream pub.

There are lots of nooks to tuck yourself into. Little booths created out of old pews. A bar as a beacon in the middle, with an old illuminated off licence sign guiding you to a thoughtful selection of cask, keg and spirits – a mix of modern, unusual and old classics. Old Belgian beer ads adorn a wall. Pub memorabilia is dotted about to pique your interest or trigger your nostalgia. Hops and fairy lights hang off the ceiling to soften the corners. Even the music is perfect, a great selection at a volume that’s the ultimate sweet spot – where it masks the chat of others but isn’t so loud that you can’t be heard yourself. Everything adds to a feeling of welcome, cosiness, a home from home.

And then the food! Not just a textbook selection of weird and wonderful crisps (Grouse and Whinberry, anyone?), but also rolls at the bar and freshly cooked snacks from the kitchen out back, essentially pub tapas without any of the pretension that phrase might suggest, something to keep you going but nothing to fill you up, including “frickles” – fried pickles that might just be the perfect accompaniment to a pint.

And then there’s the people. The staff are friendly, helpful, well-informed but not overbearing. The patrons are mixed – not always a given in a place like this. Old boys, solo drinkers, families, a good balance of male and female It is not overrun by Beer Tourists (apart from, of course, myself) and all the better for it. This is somewhere that is lived in, frequented, nurtured, supported, a real living pub rather than an exhibit of pub-ness.

There’s even a display above the door showing the next train times from Tamworth, for if you decide that perhaps its a little too hasty to start a new life here and that you better get home at some point.

One of the greats.