Friday afternoon, and we headed out for lunch.
I know. I know.
We do love our food.
In our defence, we offset it by walking a lot. An awful lot. I'm fairly sure there's a perfectly respectable scientific formula somewhere that says seven miles along the Northumberland coast cancels out sticky toffee pudding.
And if there isn't, there should be.
We hadn't actually decided where we were going. We just knew lunch was required and had a shortlist:
- Cook & Barker at Newton on the Moor
- The Northumberland Arms at Felton
- The Running Fox at Felton
Sometimes these are the best afternoons. No booking. No real plan. Just drive and see where you end up.
On to Felton
We passed the Cook & Barker first.
It looked busy.
Decision made.
We carried on towards Felton.
Felton is one of those Northumberland villages you could easily miss if you were concentrating on getting somewhere else. It sits just off the A1, gathered around a bend in the River Coquet, with stone houses, trees tumbling towards the water and some lovely little riverside walks.
But it has been a stopping place for travellers for centuries.
The old Great North Road once crossed the Coquet here, originally by ford and later across the old stone bridge, which dates back to the 15th century. Inns, farriers and other businesses grew around the crossing to serve the steady stream of people travelling north and south.
So stopping in Felton for something to eat is hardly a new idea.
We were simply continuing a very old tradition.
Admittedly with considerably better suspension.
Our Time at The Northumberland Arms
We had recently eaten at The Running Fox in Powburn, so in the interests of journalistic research — rather than sheer greed — we decided to try The Northumberland Arms.
The building began life as a coaching inn in the 1820s and today has been restored into a rather lovely country pub and hotel.
From the outside it has all the Northumberland ingredients you want: handsome stone, traditional windows and the reassuring appearance of somewhere that takes lunch seriously.
Inside, though, it feels surprisingly light and contemporary.
It was mid-afternoon by the time we arrived and the main Friday lunch rush had gone.
All that remained were a few business-lunch stragglers...
...and the nowhere else I particularly need to be retirees.
We felt immediately at home.
We found an airy table in the conservatory, while Meg secured what was arguably the best seat in the house — stretched out beside the open door with fresh air coming in and an excellent view of anything edible leaving the kitchen.
And Then I Made a Mistake
Lucy ordered the steak pie.
Sensible.
Reliable.
Very Northumberland.
I spotted schnitzel on the menu.
Now, many years ago I spent some time in Germany, and apparently one glimpse of the word schnitzel was enough to transport me straight back there.
Decision made.
When the food arrived, I immediately regretted it.
Not because mine was bad. Far from it.
It was a lovely generous piece of pork, served with fries, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with it.
But across the table was Lucy's steak pie.
Proper pie.
Beautiful pastry.
Rich gravy.
The sort of plate where you immediately realise that the other person has won lunch.
Lucy offered me a taste.
This did not improve matters.
Meanwhile, beneath the table, Meg had begun to suspect that my enthusiasm for the schnitzel was waning.
She was quite prepared to assist.
Pudding Saves the Day
Fortunately, there was still pudding.
I chose jam roly-poly.
Yes, I realise it isn't even autumn yet.
There should probably be some sort of rule about consuming hot sponge puddings before the first leaves have fallen, but if there is, I chose to ignore it.
And I'm very glad I did.
It arrived warm and light, with custard and ice cream.
Both.
Not either/or.
This is the sort of decision-making I can support.
It was absolutely delicious.
In fact, I'm prepared to put it somewhere in my current top three Northumberland puddings, which is becoming an increasingly competitive league.
Lucy went for sticky toffee pudding.
It was, she reports, perfectly adequate.
I suspect there may have been some pudding envy involved.
Would We Go Back?
With drinks, two courses each and coffees, lunch came in a little above the sort of price we normally aim for.
But the Northumberland Arms is a lovely place to spend a couple of hours.
The setting is beautiful, the conservatory was particularly nice on a warm afternoon and the service throughout was excellent.
Would we go back?
Yes.
Would we become regulars?
I'm not quite sure.
There are places around Northumberland that we've visited once and almost immediately started planning our return. Places where a particular breakfast, table by a window or walk afterwards somehow gets under your skin.
This didn't quite do that.
But perhaps that's okay.
Not everywhere has to become our place.
Sometimes you can simply have a good lunch, sit beside an open door on a Friday afternoon, share a little too much pork with the dog and discover a jam roly-poly worthy of the pudding league.
Then wander down to the Coquet afterwards and walk some of it off.
Which, conveniently, brings us back to that scientific formula.
I'm almost certain it works.