The Hambleton Inn Sutton Bank, Thirsk (From Darlington and Stockton Times)

The Hambleton Inn Sutton Bank, Thirsk

9:44am Thursday 24th December 2009

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No nonsense fare at this ancient inn.

THERE are some roadside establishments across the region whose prominence and accords them landmark status.

You may never have darkened their doors, but they are part of your travelling consciousness simply because they’re a reassuring part of the landscape: the pub on the A19 that signifies that we’re nearly home, the horrendously coloured hotel that marks the half-way point to granny’s place – you get the picture.

The Hambleton Inn, a stout, white-painted coaching inn a short distance from the top of glorious Sutton Bank, fits the landmark bill. Depending upon your direction of travel, it’s either the last watering hole before plunging into the Vale of York, or the first stop for a pint when you arrive on the other-worldly plateau of the North York Moors en route to Helmsley, Pickering and beyond.

It was time to pay closer attention to this free house, so a couple of Saturday’s ago we climbed the winding hill in the dark – robbed of that stunning view across the Vale by a foul winter’s night.

The Hambleton loomed out of the pelting rain and mist with its heartening no-nonsense solidness, just as it surely has to travellers down the ages trudging the drovers’ road across the moors from Scotland.

A glowing fire, warm colours and a comfortable, cluttered atmosphere envelopes you as you enter this ancient travellers’ haven.

Paul and Tracy Cooper have run the inn for more than five years and have clearly invested a lot of hard work and pride in their pub.

A lovely pint of Rudgate Ruby Mild was a perfect welcome: named this year’s champion beer of Britain, it is brewed in Tockwith, west of York.

We made our choices quickly: Anna and Becky opted to share an antipasto plate of Italian meats and olives with a tasty sprinkling of fresh Parmesan cheese (£6.25). A sound start.

Jack’s Orknay [sic] Thai-style crab cakes with tomato and coriander salsa (£6.25) were chosen from the chalked-up specials board. To me, they looked distinctly un-handmade, with that crisp, solid crust of “breadcrumbs”. But they were certainly tasty.

My grilled field mushrooms with grilled goats cheese and a mustard vinaigrette (£5.95) was a lovely, well-balanced combination, although at this time of year I’d question whether the fungi justified the “field” title...

The ladies, in tune once again, both opted for greenlipped New Zealand mussels in a white wine and cream sauce, with prawns and parsley (£13.75). Having been lucky enough to relish many a pile of Kiwi mussels at source, I was curious to know how the exported molluscs faired.

They got a thumbs-up from both diners: the prawn-rich sauce was thicker and more substantial than the more usual white wine French-inspired offering.

Jack also proclaimed himself more than happy with a sweet and sour pork dish (£9.95). My deep-seated distrust of the sickly-sweet vibrant red variety common in Chinese takeaway foil trays was hard to shake off, but this dish had plentiful pieces of tender meat with a subtle sousing of sauce – no sign of the dreaded red gloop.

Turning my attention away from my fellow diners’ plates, I tackled my mammoth steak pie and chips (£9.95). A beautifully- shaped, solid square slab of a pie, it was quite an undertaking. An incredibly rich dousing of thick gravy only added to the intensity of the experience. Marvellous – although I was almost defeated by the chips.

This marked the culinary high-point of the evening: our sampling of the dessert menu proved a real disappointment.

A vanilla creme brulée (£4.75) was pronounced decidedly ordinary by the girls (but then again, what were they expecting from a dish I personally fail to see the point of?) On the boys’ side of the table, our lemon and mascarpone cheesecake “with fresh raspberries”

and Chantilly cream (£4.75) was no better than a bland offering from a supermarket frozen cabinet, with an unsubtle aggregate base and no sign of the (out of season) raspberries – a few blueberries served as uninteresting understudies.

In terms of service, after a slightly cool welcome – we’d telephoned last minute and been warned there was a large Christmas party booked in – our efficient but tense waitress was more relaxed as the evening went on.

A bill of £96.45 for three starters, four mains, two puds, two rounds of drinks and a bottle of shiraz struck me as quite a lot for a respectable but fairly ordinary pub meal. The kitchen really needs to extend its pretty high standards to its puddings, and the ladies’ loos received an unfavourable report – I’d have to take my companions’ word for that.

Nevertheless, long may the Hambleton welcome travellers on the edge of the moors.

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