How to Find and Enjoy the Pub Life

One wintry night, near the hearth at a pub in Chelsea, a Londoner told me about an American couple on their first visit to England.

“They only had three days,” he said, “so they hurried about taking photos of all the famous sights: the Tower, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben. They said their only disappointment was that they never found a pub.”

The publican smiled from across the bar, just as another publican had smiled when I first heard this story years ago in Dublin.

“The Yanks were looking for a sign,” the man went on, “a sign that said ‘Pub.’ ”

It is odd to realize this most common of spoken words is rarely seen on the streets.

The clues, instead, are wooden signs with fanciful pictures and names: The Blue Posts, Hare and Hounds, I Am The Only Running Footman, Bunch of Grapes, George and Dragon. They are among the tens of thousands of British public houses--or pubs--a convivial institution that has no precise equal in other lands.

A pub remains a clubby gathering place, whether for barristers from London’s courts or farmers on a Friday night in Devon. A pub--urban, suburban or rural--is a democratic institution where locals drink and snack and talk, always talk.

“Public bar” may be scrolled above one entrance, “saloon bar” above another. Traditionally, the heavy drinking--that is, the male drinking--went on in the more rustic public side; the saloon or lounge or private bar was more comfortable--even with upholstered banquettes--and intended for men with women. Those distinctions, for the most part, are gone. Today the difference in rooms is more likely to be tables or no tables, thick smoke or thin.

Painted inn signs trace to the Middle Ages, I’m told, when most British drinkers were illiterate but could certainly tell a picture of an elephant and castle from three bells. In village England, directions are still given in reference to a pub: Turn left at the King’s Arms and straight away up the hill.

There is a wrong notion abroad that Americans are welcomed in pubs like long-lost cousins. Everyone, in fact, is welcome, but conversations do not stop for hails or hugs.

The easiest way to drift into the chat is to ask questions: how to get to a nearby stately home that’s open for tours, or what’s a good place for dinner 50 miles down the road. But allow time for an answer. Opinions will be many and varied.

Often you can tell a lot about a pub by its cover. Pride leads to polished brass letters, hunting horns, carriage lanterns and copper pots of flowers, whether real or fake. Toby jugs, shelves of china plates and clutters of ribbons for unknown prizes may decorate the premises.

The cheery men and women behind the bar used to be the owners. Now they may manage the pub for a major brewery whose ale and cold lager are featured. If you want a wider choice of brands, look for the “free house” sign. That means it’s not part of a chain.

Good pub food can be a traveler’s dream: tasty, fast, economical. The ubiquitous ploughman’s lunch is hard to beat: slabs of cheese, often Cheddar or Cheshire; crusty bread, pickles and relish. Some pubs include a dab of salad or sliced fruit. Some offer ploughman’s with sausage, which are the “bangers” served with mashed potatoes in the pub dish called “bangers and mash.”

Real ale is the common accompaniment for a ploughman’s lunch, although these days you can buy a soft drink--even a diet cola--for not much more. My non-drinking relatives are proof that imbibing alcohol is not essential to the pleasure of pubbing. They came away from an English holiday with more pen pals than any travelers I know.

The character of a pub is set by its regulars and the tenor of the neighborhood. This is why city hotel pubs seem less authentic; their customers are mostly from somewhere else, strangers to each other and the barkeep. But even old-time pubs are changing. Many chalkboard menus list vegetarian plates. In the countryside, some pubs offer fenced-in playgrounds for youngsters on trips with their families.

Except for fancy upstairs carveries, the rules for pub etiquette are basic: Generally, you order your food at the bar, and carry your drink to a table. You always pay when served. Tipping is not customary, although if you’re there for a while, you may offer to buy the pubkeeper a drink.

One wintry night in Lincolnshire, I overheard an American order a pint of stout for the pubkeeper. Their conversation grew warmer. When both had finished, the pubkeeper lifted his empty glass and asked: “Shall we have the other half?”

The second round was on the house.