The Bull at Broughton

The Bull. A name to remember. I have been a customer here for all my "drinking life". That's about two-thirds to date, with a longish lay-off when I was doing outreach work in the East. It has had various owners and managers and, in my view has never been as good as it was then. Then? Either under the control of a brilliant publican or an equally brilliant chap in the motor trade.

No need for names. Those that know, know and those that don't, they missed a ball. The food was reliable. Nothing fancy. The ambience was just a riot because these men, the operators, were almost larger than life and, importantly, they were on view, or were working their magic behind the counter.

These were great times to be learning about drinking and eating. What not to do, what to do, how to do it, why not this or that, etc.

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In the last couple of decades the Bull has been given new directions. It went through its dark interior period with Spanish undertones. Today it is brightly lit and pale of colour. Its latest operators are Ribble Valley Inns.

They do some things well, but a talking point is whether owners are apt to take their eye off the ball, or in this case, off the Bull. Gargh and gurgle. Puns are fun.

Restaurateurs are numerous. Good ones are not as common. Food and how to cook it is a national obsession, rivalling house hunting as an easy-peasy TV generic. The latest wheeze, being boosted by my neighbour, is cooking with sea water. It sells for a small fortune and is being promoted as a better way to cook. Expect to see it on the menus of high-end dining.

I mention it here because it is being aimed at places like Northcote, the highly lauded flagship in Ribble Valley Inns' portfolio, of which The Bull is another. The star behind Northcote and the rest

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is Nigel Haworth, "the undisputed champion of North West food... a renowned Michelin star chef... and winner of BBC2's Great British Menu", and so on (from the excellent "house" magazine). Well, he ought to find time between cooking and televising and food shows to nip along to The Bull, which is working to his menus.

Arriving on a balmy, damp, summery evening, I was greeted with "Are you all right there?" Oh gosh, I was at the time, until I heard that banal, tranny caf greeting. Not so good when I left, either, which didn't take long.

The staff are shiny young, either handsome or smart or pretty or winsome. Nicely dressed. Lovely people. But where was the pivotal person, the one who stamps a place with character, puts in the fizz and controls it? It lacks a spot of gravitas. Too many places these days are staffed but not really led from the front. You don't know who is running the show. If you go, say, to the Angel at Hetton, which is what the Bull might aspire to, you'll probably see a chap called Sam in a suit. He takes you in hand, briskly, pleasantly, has time for you.

The Bull is also near the country's best rural business park at Broughton Hall. This has a staff caff which is just so good. I can't tell you more because it is for the workers. If I said it was my favourite place to eat, I wouldn't be far off the mark. The cooking is superb. The staff are gems. It is worth getting a job at the offices just to eat there.

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The Bull's fish pie, topped with whorls of Wensleydale cheese, looked marvellous but under the creamy waves of toasty cheese it was bland and under-seasoned, sitting in its ramekin on a watery juice.

Better was the pea, broad bean and mint soup, served with homemade breads and Yorkshire butter. It had peas and baby beans in the bowl – a fresh, summery idea using seasonal vegetables.

The next sample from the Bull's kitchen – more fresh beans and peas, cooked in their pods in the oven and seasoned and drenched with a garlic and chilli paste, more mint and celery salt. There was also a garlic dip. I was variously advised I could eat both the bean and pea pods; or only the pea pods, which I could dip first in the mayo. If that was not to my taste, I may prefer to remove the peas as well as the beans.

I can see the idea here. Broad beans can be eaten in their pod but they must be very young. The pods quickly become tough and fit only for the compost. The peas have a little more life before the pods become toughies. The ones served at the Bull had reached that state.

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An apprentice at Happy Harry's Motors could not have got more grease on his paws. The pea pods were barely edible en tout. I did manage three, then realised I'd need to be a ruminant with a double tummy to handle the biomass. I gave up. The waiter removed the plate without comment.

The Bull at Broughton, A59 near Skipton, North Yorkshire BD23 3AE.

Tel: 01756 792065. Open every day from noon. Recommended: Fish platter, Hetton ale.

YP MAG 18/9/10