We’d been in Scarborough for two days, and like the last bit on an episode of Quantum Leap, it was time to move on. Plus, we’d only booked for 2 nights.
At a whopping 48 minutes that train journey’s a killer, we reflected, as we got busy with a brace of Bucks Fizz (the drink, not the 80s pop group) at Star Inn The City.
We were in the conservatory bit overlooking the river as it pi**ed it down, which was pretty romantic in a damp, grey Yorkshire way.
It’d been a heavy couple of days on the old eating front, so lightness was required.
Opting to do the polar opposite, however, “Heaven and Earth” was ordered and black pudding mashed potato with a couple of perfect poached eggs on the side was duly dispatched. There was apple in the mash, so in theory there was fruit for breakfast.
You should know what you’re getting with scrambled eggs and salmon on toast, but we all know it can be rubbish. Here, you pay 11 quid but all the component parts have that bit of quality about them.
Yep, it’s a bit pricier than what you might pay elsewhere but first impressions of Star Inn The City are grand. Plus that fancy big extension won’t pay for itself.
We lost ourselves in Pivni for a couple of hours which is impossible not to when you’re drinking some of the gear they flog. The sign says ‘1597’ which could well be the ABV of some of the beer we drank. A highlight, as ever, was the Camden Pale which has become a bit of a favourite and seemed to follow us around as we gallivanted around t’north.
We were staying and eating at the Lamb and Lion – a handsome old inn on groping terms with the city walls – that seems to be run wholly by a (very pleasant and able) bunch of work experience kids. Not a big grown up in sight, which was fine, just a bit odd.
Having worked off the morning’s mash by ascending and then descending the stairs to “The Attic” (haunted, obviously) we got tucked into some solid ‘Inn’ food. There was nothing overly wrong with any of it, but we’d been to Scarborough – culinary mecca of the UK – and standards were at warp speed 11.
Of the starters, a big slab of black pudding was dense and dry and the crispy egg on top was cooked through so you didn’t get that oozy yolk-shot (just made that up, think it works).
The other plate had some really good buttery squid and plenty of chorizo that, to me, needed crozzling up a bit more.
Got to have a pie in York – and this was a proper pie, not just a token bit of pastry balanced on top of a stew. It was a good ‘un, too, with crisp but firm pastry and a hearty filling that overfaced us then but we’d like a second go at now. Mash was mush, however.
Rare rump steak was decent but made us realise why ribeye and its naughty bit of fat is preferable. This was a bit clean and polite. The chips probably used to be good chips but had been tortured in the fryer one too many times so had become dark and dry. The whole lot ended up the same shade as the board. English mustard resuscitated it, to a degree.
We didn’t need breakfast the next morning, but that’s irrelevant when you’ve paid in advance. We’d find room.
Glad we did, too. Eggs benedict was properly seasoned, made with thick ham and delivered on the yolk-shot.
There’s always one idiot who thinks it’s acceptable to order kippers in a busy dining room the morning after a heavy one. These were meaty, juicy and an unusually healthy way to start the next avaricious leg of our Greedfest.