The Maltings


We decide one more drink is needed before our first night is over, and that it must be a pint of something – not another cocktail. So we head to a pub recommended by our new employer who has a taste for barley and hops. When we arrive at The Maltings after another soggy trip across town we recieve just enough sideways glares from some of the older patrons to know that this is one of England’s ‘local’ pubs. The mood isn’t exactly welcoming, and some performers are wrapping up what appears to be a fairly unsuccessful gig. The barman hastily pours us two pints of lager that is 50p cheaper anywhere else, and we find ourselves a small table and tiny stools which we hope are out of the way.

Stat Sheet 2:
The Maltings
$$$
Tanners Moat, York YO1 1HU – 01904 655387
Events: Tuesday – Live Music
Notes: Food

 


Kat: A cocktail at Evil Eye was fun but it’s time for a pint. We head to a place called The Maltings, situated behind the train station. This place is definitely a lot more traditional than our first stop. It’s got low ceilings and wood everything. There’s a band playing Bob Dylan covers, too bad for me they just ended their set. Not minutes after we take our first sips we hear the dreaded last call warning. We take that to mean there will be no more ordering, but as we chat and drink our pints of beer the bartender actually comes to table and tells us to leave. Oops, I guess last call is a little more urgent over here. We drink our pints a little faster than intended and make our exit onto the dark streets, ready to end our first night out as citizens of England.

 

Ron: Being a pub renowned for its selection of beer and ale, we honestly should have opted to try one of the guest taps. However, after breaking the bank at Evil Eye I was looking for something familiar – dear to the heart but not the wallet. Nothing is more familiar to a Canadian than cheap lager, and I find myself often choosing it on wet nights, even though the bartenders in England become instantly less friendly after you request a pint of Fosters. I was a bit dismayed when our two pints of watered-down Australian water came to nearly the same price as our fancy drinks in the city centre. Savingly, this pub had an old dog (one of those that you know was a good dog) which was now peacefully watching the last months of her life from her post on the floor.



Before we even had a chance to finish our pints, we, as well as everyone else, were loudly asked to leave. It was only 10:30! We’re both still not used to the funny hours the British insist on operating their services. We guzzled down our last sips, marking this pub safely off the list of our very own potential locals.

 

Cheers x x

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