The Clog and Billycock

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Guardian Weekend Entertainment Guide - Food & Drink

Familiarity, it’s said, breeds contempt. For now, however, growing northern pub company, Ribble Valley Inns, remains the source of much contentment. The Clog, the company’s third pub-restaurant, may be its best yet. Unlike the Three Fishes and The Highwayman, both barn-like buildings whose makeovers felt a little antiseptic the Clog is altogether cosier. It’s a sensitively lit, cleverly subdivided space, with an area where drinkers can sup relatively undisturbed. Food- wise, the Clog sticks to the RVI formula : superb local ingredients put to work in broadly traditional British dishes, though the menu does include a handful of new additions. These include great steaks, a rustling portion of whitebait, served with a deliciously poky paprika mayo, and a cautiously modernised toad in the hole, in which all elements combine handsomely.

Tony Naylor

Associés

“Food without wine is a corpse; wine without food is a ghost; united and well matched they are as body and soul, living partners.”


Andre Simon (1877-1970)

Bon appetit !

All four elements were happening in equal measure - the cuisine, the wine, the service, and the overall ambience. It taught me that dining could happen at a spiritual level- Charlie Trotter

Giuseppe Arcimboldo 1527-1593

Winter 1573

Monty Minding the Store by Charles Wysocki

Morrigans Harvest by Roibin

Morrigan’s Harvest

When the Morrigan moves through the fields
Only she the white is seen at the sky
Single dark fogs fly across the heaven
and clothe the great Queen like a splendid robe.

When the Morrigan moves through the fields
She is bare, only her black hair covers her
Followed by a flock of crows
She strides through the world
The crows shriek hurries on ahead of her,
heralding of her harvest

When the Morrigan moves through the fields
She is Destroyess and Mistress of the world
One glance into her mirroring eyes
Leads you across without pain
Every burning sorrow she takes away
in her cool black boat.

Artwork: Louis le Brocquy Táin 'The Morrígan', 1969.

Welcome to The Hyperborean Dining Club

Welcome!

The Hyperborean (formerly The Morrigan) is the sister club to the Gentilmin's Dining Club for quality dining, beer, wine and social entertainment. Thats not to say the Gentilmin's is 'dead', just floundering in a testosterone fuelled haze of a sick pool somewhere hoisted by its own dickie bow.

The Hyperborean is simpler- do what thou wilt! Invite who you want, male or female, wear what you want, and feel free to make your own decisions; there is no membership, rules, or leader, although I am happy to act as secretary.

Shall we meet once per year? Perhaps that is a good thing to aim for for now.

The lore of The Morrigan runs deep, my friends. Too deep to communicate in a humble bulletin. I shall not bother you with it. It is up to each of us to find our own path to Her... and a good subject of conversation for our first Meet, when we are full from pork balls or pickled plums!

I will post again with details of the next dining event when I have spoken to you all individually. Have a think about what you fancy doing.

Anderson