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This month my mother Yvonne and I were mooching about in the Garstang area and thought we’d have lunch at one of the many eateries in the centre of the pretty little market town just to the north of Preston.
Garstang refers to itself as The World’s First Fair Trade Town, which can only be a good thing for coffee lovers as the main ghastly, chain store coffee behemoths are nowhere to be seen.
The side is slightly let down by a Costa Coffee vending machine lurking in a small local shop, but it’s flanked by so many cute little independent restaurants and cafes that anyone choosing to use it must simply have a thing for the type of questionably sourced, scorched coffee that should only really be served as part of a bushtucker breakfast next to a bowl of non-metaphorical kangaroo hoops.
Anyway, I’d intended to go to one of the places on the main street that had some cracking reviews on Google, but, despite it being 2pm on a Friday, we weren’t able to find anywhere to park that was close enough for Yvonne. In fact, the high street was rammed with people and cars so, after three round trips of the town, we gave up and went for the first eatery we saw that had its own car park.
That turned out to be a pub-ish restaurant called Hugo’s Bar and Bistro. We received a warm welcome when we entered, and had the pick of tables as only one other table was occupied. We chose a table for two next to a huge window that overlooked a little outdoor terrace with a surprise view overlooking the River Wyre and the fields and hills beyond.
The decor was a little tired. For many independent businesses the steep increase in energy and food costs means that they have to choose between significantly hiking up their prices or postponing any refurbishments until things pick up. This may be the case with Hugo’s, because everything on the menu was very reasonably priced, especially for Garstang.
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Yvonne chose a posh fish finger butty for £10 – three crunchy, lightly battered fish goujons with tartar sauce and mixed leaves inside a lovely, soft barm cake, served with a generous side of sturdy chips and a pot of mushy peas. It was enough to satisfy most appetites, but we’d both opted for the offer of a small bowl of soup for an extra £3 when bought with any sandwich.
The celery and leek soup was delicious. There were a few strands of celery fibres that had managed to dodge the blender; enough to indicate that it was homemade, but not so much that we had to worry about coughing up a celery hairball at an awkward moment.
I ate my soup before my chips, which is a ringing endorsement for it as usually nothing comes between me and some fried carbs. After the soup I couldn’t finish the chips and only managed to eat half of my New York deli pastrami bloomer, costing a reasonable £8.50.
It was an excellent sandwich, packed with authentic ingredients. The sauerkraut complemented the combination of pastrami, Swiss cheese, mustard, mayo and lettuce without overpowering it or causing the slices of beautifully soft wholemeal bloomer bread to become soggy.
It was such a good sandwich that I decided to take the half that was left home with me for tea, but didn’t want to ask the staff for a takeaway box for such a small amount so I just wrapped it in a napkin. For some reason Yvonne handed me an opened envelope and told me to put it in there, so I did because, despite being 53, I still automatically do what my mum tells me to do.
It was a bit embarrassing when the manager came over as I was putting the sauerkraut napkin envelope into my bag and kindly asked me if I’d like a box for it, but not as embarrassing as the time when I put some pâté in a camera case and sat on it, or when I set a beefburger on fire at my parents’ house and then hid the charred remains in the microwave because I was hungry and got scared that the firefighters would try to take it off me.
Hugo’s was a pleasant surprise, and I’m happy that we couldn’t park near enough to the cafe we’d originally planned on visiting. The food and service were spot on, and I can imagine that summer dining on the terrace overlooking the river would be a lovely experience.
Decor wise, the room would benefit from a paint refresh, some wall art, and some white tablecloths instead of the stiff PVC tablecloths that are more often found in rooms where toddlers assemble to paint something a bit crap and then make you look at it. Putting them on tables in a restaurant is the equivalent of donning a Facehugger from the Alien films because you’ve got under-eye bags. It’s just not worth it.
If you’re in the Garstang area, do give this friendly little place a go. If enough Blog Preston readers visit then maybe we can help to banish the plazzy tablecloths forever but, until then, we can just enjoy the excellent food and keep our eyes on the river.
Have you as a parent had to stick a baffling scribble on your fridge? Tell us what it summoned in the comments.
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