Edinburgh has a good range of what I would describe as destination pubs. The likes of Cafe Royal, Leslie’s Bar and Bennets offer great beer, great service and an element of historical fascination. The Crofters in Sighthill is perhaps in a different category. This is the kind of place I could easily have gone through my entire Edinburgh drinking life never visiting but for a recent job change. So what does lie within this bungalow beside a petrol station on the Calder Road?
I remember many years ago when “gastropub” became the ghastly word de jour. The Eagle on London’s Farringdon Road, next to the old Guardian building, seemingly the original culprit. In Edinburgh, I first associate the word with The Caley Sample Room in Slateford. With pubs serving decent food a cut above the usual toasties and chips now proliferating in the Scottish capital, including the nearby new-look Fountain, has this one managed to keep up a high standard?
Fact sheet. It’s not a phrase you hear very often – it takes me back to a time before the internet when television shows would often urge you to send in an SAE to receive a “fact sheet”. Back to a time when John Leslie was presenting Blue Peter and posing outside this pub on Causewayside, claiming that it was named in his honour. Back to a time when this pub looked, well, exactly as it does today. Leslie’s is a fantastic looking pub and if you ask the bar staff, they will furnish you with a fact sheet to answer all your questions. It’s a first for me, I have to admit. It may look good but is it a decent boozer?
Going out to the pub for breakfast is something I’ve only really discovered in recent years. Now it’s one of my favourite things to do. So the other Saturday when Mrs Bar Fly and I fancied a fry-up fix, we headed down to Teuchters Landing – a break from the norm, it has to be said. Living in Edinburgh, near Leith, I have to admit my default option for a weekend breakfast up till now has been the King’s Wark at The Shore, which does an excellent breakfast albeit often accompanied by somewhat shambolic service. Not rude, just disorganised. So would Teuchters Landing be able to equal or better its nearby rival?
I remember being in the Oxford Bar on Young Street a number of years ago, round about Six Nations time. Enjoying a pint with a mate in the back room, two Welsh guys were discussing Ian Rankin’s famous creation, Rebus, and his choice of pubs. Turning to us, one of them enquired: “Where’s the Rebus pub, mate, the one he drinks in?” Slightly confused, I replied, “This is it.” Glancing round the spartan room with a look of confusion, our Welsh drinking friend said simply: “Really? Bit sh*t innit?” While perhaps a little harsh, I know what he means.