The Red Lion, Snargate

Having had years of "Pub-sploring" under my belt and despite being only about half an hour or so from my cousin who lives in the atypical Kentish village of Tenterden it's still somehow managed to take me almost 3 years to finally wet my whistle in The Red Lion or Doris's as it's more commonly known found nestling in a almost forgotten corner of the the Kent countryside.

For those who don't know Doris's in a 15th Century pub that's is situated in Romney marsh and has been in the same family for almost 100 years, to say it's resisted change is an understatement. The Landlady of 60+ years, hence the pub's name of Doris's (not The Red Lion obviously!) , has said that the pub hasn't been decorated since around 1890 apart from alot of WWII posters and local snippets adorning the walls. Winner of every CAMRA award they can bestow (Pub of the year, Pub of the decade, Pub Of the South East etc etc) they only serve one type of lager and that's Carling.

In small bottles.

Probably warm.

There's hardly any electric so no chilled pump dispensed soft drink, no ice machine, no artfully kept choice of wine (unless you could locally produced plum wine), no fruit machines, no jukebox, no TV showing Sky Sports, no truck with almost anything modern in fact. This includes urinals. More on that later.

"Food" at any time of the day consists of either Plain, Salt N' vinegar crisps or LEATHAL looking Pickled eggs (personally anything in vinegar turns my stomach but I'm told that these home made eggs are beautiful) and the whole place is lit with candles and the odd 40 watt bulb.

Don't get me wrong, I maybe painting a grotty picture but it's clean and tidy it's just like taking a step back in time say 50+ years to how a country pub would have been yesteryear...



After a unlit drive through some of the twistiest lanes imaginable at speeds only a local should drive at and suffering a sudden couple of almost 90 degree turns in the road that left my face pressed against the window we arrived at the place.

It's not in the isolated boggy spot I pictured in my head, the nearest village is only about a 5 minute drive away and the pub faces a wonderful old church (quite amusing to think at this tiny crossroad there is the polar ends of local village life) not that I could see it when we arrived as it was darker than a miners armpit.

The surrounding countryside has more of a look of say Norfolk than the Garden Of England. It's flat green irregular shaped pastures and little streams. There's also for a Townie like myself the shock of the total absence of noise. I mean no insects, car alarms, people, Emergency Services anything except the wind and rain sighing and once in awhile a car trundling past.

The building itself is a surprisingly large structure half plant covered but tidy and respectable not some tumbledown shack if "a pub that's not changed since 1890" image appears in your mind. The Slaughtered Lamb* it is not.



Climbing from the car the first thing that strikes you is that you can see candles burning invitingly through the windows and it was possibly brighter in the car than inside the pub, atmospheric is the best way to describe it.

Not romantic candle-light but candle light due to necessity.

The door opens into a tiny porch area just big enough for you to shake yourself dry (a Saturday night in a Marshland in March of course it was wet) then leading into the main bar.

..I say bar...how to describe my very first impressions of the place?

Unfortunately my first impressions as I walked through the door was a strong smell of wee.

NOT what I expected, what it actually is is a slight damps smell mixed with wood smoke, beer and the surrounding areas slightly fresh earthy smell. To be honest it was hardly noticeable but having small children and an incontinent old cat you develop a nose for things that aren't the norm like that! It soon became unnoticeable anyway and it's not an all pervading stench by any stretch of the imagination.

The main part of the pub consists of a white speckled marble topped bar with 4 pumps set in a Pewter top with a couple of the afore mentioned candles and a small display of the nibbles available. The pumps it seems are for show only as all the ales, cider and Perry I saw served all night were gravity drawn, as in right out of a tap in the cask drawn from a row of polypins and wooden caskets hidden behind the bar and change is dealt from a huge old wooden drawered cash machine that noisily "Chur-CHINGS!" at every transaction.

The whole place is a drunkards nightmare: uneven floors, walls, narrow doorways and low beamed ceilings.

Oh and the interior is DARK.

I mean really DARK.

As I said the only light is from one wall light per room and a couple of candles. It's not dingy in any way, it's just a lower light level than we in the 21st Century are used to and it takes awhile to get used to. The yellowy cream paint on the walls and the World War 2 memorabilia and CAMRA posters plastered everywhere really helps set the mood of the place, this is a proud Kentish pub no mistake. It also has something of an old ladies front room as it had kitchen type chairs and local Churchy Bric-A-Brac and local village and Parish paraphernalia tidily stacked on tables and windowsills. The Snug Bar seats were actually old pews and sitting on the bar stools took great concentration as what with the uneven floors and all the stools legs being different lengths you almost preferred leaning against the bar. One strange thing I noticed was that the local actually had a Kentish accent not the usual London twang, something I suddenly realised I'd not heard that since I was a child and used to have weekends away at an Auntie & Uncles who owned a Guest house 25 years ago.



Now for the interesting part, the beers!...

With an admittedly smaller range than I expected it was still a healthy couple of bitters (Westerham Brewery, the 1965 was great), two milds and a locally made Perry and Cider.

The milds were very drinkable (sorry I can't remember the names!) according to my cousin and the Perry was the nicest I've had in years, clear, not too sweet, full flavoured, cool and refreshing. The Cider and the Perry were a respectable 6.5% so only a half of each was had. You could tell the Cider was good by the fact it felt like it was destroying the enamel around your gum line, that sort of buzzy almost electric tingle.

On a more "earthy" note the toilets are interesting. Their the old fashion outside lean-to and the urinals are a brick wall painted with black rubberises paint and the trough is guttering cemented into the floor, saying that it's clean and I've been a hell of alot worse pub toilets!

For the 3.5 hours we were there I think there was only 6 other people that came in during that time of which a couple came in just wanting food only to be told in an almost gleeful voice from the barman that they did a mean bag of Salt N' Shake crisps but that was it. A real breath of fresh air in this era of almost forelock tugging Americana "Have-A-Nice-Day" customer service or bland disinterest.

Talking of Septic Tanks', one quite surreal sight was when a HUGE American Chevy pick-up rumbled in to the car park and the owner climbed down and popped in for a few drinks. A huge red and chrome V8 monster sitting a few feet away was the only sign that Doris's was even in this century I saw the whole night, even mobiles don't get a signal down there so the pub was refreshingly free of bleeps and blurps of modern life invading your evening.

I have to admit it was a bit too quiet for my Saturday night tastes and my cousin did say it was the quietest he'd seen it on the few trips he's had there but I had a great time soaking up the atmosphere and vibe of this lovely old pub and as

I noticed Tenterden Aerodrome is having a 1940's weekend soon, to be honest they could do alot worse than move the venue lock stock and beer barrel to Doris's.





*- The name of the totally unfriendly pub in The American Werewolf In London that had Brian Glover shouting.

25 Mar 2010 19:20