Welcome back old friend, Guinness, Lashfords and fun for all the family at The Lord Clifden

The Lord Clifden, in the Jewellery Quarter, was more than an old friend from years gone by, it could have been my best man, wing man and prop-up-the-bar man.

Opened in the 1860s and named after the all-conquering Lord Clifden race horse the pub survived both World Wars, both sets of Austerity, the Depression and countless developers' evil eyes.

The pub even survived being the victim of the ultimate Gotcha story after Diana's death in 1997. On the way home after that fateful Sunday a journalist popped into the Lord Clifden. In the snug an old Irishman approached the bar and was greeted with: "Paddy, you've won the dead pool! You had Princess Diana!"

Bemused, and surprised, Paddy replied: "How, much?" To be told he had won a few hundreds pounds.

He replied: "That's grand. Tell everyone the next round is on me."

The barman shouted into both bars, Paddy's won the Dead Pool, the next drink is on him. There was cheer, probably from those who were nursing their last pint without the money for another one. No-one gave it a second thought.

Until the front page of the paper which screamed: "Sick locals cheer the death of Diana!"

And, still the Lord Clifden survived........................

But it could not survive the Southern hedge fund who bought the pub, which in the 2010s regularly gave Birmingham an entry in the The Times best UK pub lists, and ran it so badly its last orders were called in Spring 2023.

Every time I passed it on the bus, a cavalcade of memories rushed back, as well as the sad fact it now was the place that used to be, not the place to be.

So as soon as I heard a local consortium of pub owners decided to reopen the place, I was going to enjoy going down memory lane.

The major change is they have knocked the pub through, the tiny snug is no more and has given the place a new airy more welcoming feel. The stained glass Lord Clifden window has been made a feature, I had never noticed it before, the curtains were always drawn.

A niche interest of mine is pub tiling, and the toilets have been renovated to show the dazzling historic blue and white floor tiling. The back has been extended but the garden still remains one of the best in the city. The ping pong table is back and there is even a flashy dartboard in the extension.

I'd enjoyed a swift Guinness or two, which instead of being poured from behind a ultra-modern flashing tap had a retro tap rarely seen, and thankfully despite the national drought of the Black Stuff thanks to hipster Generation Y enjoying a drop, there it was.

And thankfully, whoever is in charge of the pipes and whatnot knows what they were doing, the Guinness was lovely. Without a glitzy opening party or a super-smart social media campaign to entice influencers and their selfie sticks, the pub just opened. Three days after reopening, the place had a clientele which was as varied as the city it serves.

The pub's new menu will be revealed in the New Year but to get things started there was a festive offering.

Between the three of us there was the teenager, who we managed to get out the house on the promise of the only Sunday dinner he was going to get, and adults with nut, banana and almond allergies.

The food is ordered at the bar and despite only being on the job for three days the young chap navigated the modern world of allergies and removing this and that, a world away from what Paddy ordered that fateful night in 1997.

There had been a bitter wind blowing down Constitution Hill so the lady went for the butternut squash soup topped with coriander served with toasted sourdough bread (£6) to start, whereas I chose baked Camembert with garlic, thyme and honey, served with toasted bread (£9) and the teen went for the Buffallo chicken strips with blue cheese (£6.50), but without the blue cheese sauce.

The food envy kicked in when I smelt and saw the piping hot soup, but I had unfinished Camembert business.  A few weeks ago a Camembert resided in the fridge, which had come with chilli honey. Being a cheese purist, or Neandathol, depending on your point of view, I stuck to one is law, two's a crowd and three would send an alive Frenchman spinning in his grave. So devoured the cheese alone, leaving the chilli honey in the fridge, and regretted it ever since.

Redeeming myself at The Lord Clifden, I embraced the gooey mass of loveliness which was complimented by the honey, garlic and thyme. Breadsticks and the lightly toasted bread, as opposed to toast, there is a difference, delved into the cheese and disappeared into my mouth with almost athletic prowess.

The lady's soup was not long for this world either, but I'm glad to say I got a spoonful to experience its full flavour and would certainly order it in the future.

The chicken strips came with the blue cheese sauce drizzled over them. Thankfully, the waitress spotted the teenage harrumph and replaced it with blue cheeseless strips. Flying on fromage I wanted to sample to blue cheese but I could only watch it waltz away.

For the mains, the teenager again opted to take the festive out of the festive menu. He asked for the festive beef burger, homemade beef patty with melted brie, crispy bacon, cranberry sauce and salad, served with fries (£14.50), without the brie, bacon and cranberry sauce.

The lady went for grilled Salmon served with asparagus, broccoli, roast potatoes and a side of creamy sauce £14.50. I swerved the Christmas turkey roast after being enticed by the magic word “Lashfords”. Lord Clifden Sausage and Mash with Lashford sausages, creamy mashed potato, whipped wholegrain mustard and onion gravy £14. And I still asked for extra mustard.

There mere mention of AW Lashfords and Sons can give a Brummie meateater a giddy feeling, they have been providing sausages and faggots from Kings Norton since 1889. A reputation gained from generations of customers passing down their approval to sons and daughters.

I bet Paddy knew about Lashfords, he might have well spent some of his Diana winnings on a selection box, such is regard the company is held, some Brummies might treat themselves with a Cadbury's selection box, others head for the butchers.

When the Lord Clifden's actual menu is revealed in the New Year, I'd love to see Lashfords faggots included, they have a delightful density unmatched by any in the land. And, now the hipsters have had their fun with a staple of our region's dinner tables for generations, some even describing faggots as a delicacy, knowing where they are being served in a none-ironic way would be an immediate destination for me.

And if he is still alive I bet Paddy will not be far behind me.

All the mains came at the same time, with the right bits removed and all allergy checked.The sausages were smashing, as was the onion gravy and all my mustards. The grilled salmon was a hit with the lady, each flaky chunk of fish packed a punch. Asparagus season is a while away but after a nibble I would have loved to have had more.

The teenager was impressed with his none-festive festive burger, the patty was huge and he was too full for cheesecake for dessert which is a huge compliment. I would have like to have seen some Christmas pudding on the dessert list. I worry about the future of the Christmas pud, maybe the children who watched their dad's setting fire to the dinner table every Christmas in the 1970s and 1980s have finally spoken about their trauma aloud and a generation is jilting it.

The sticky toffee pudding with custard was a traditional end to a winters meal, it was perfect to share for the lady and I.

I was only there for two hours yet saw a couple of old friends I had not seen for yonks, which made me feel I've finally found a local in town, again

All three of us waddled out into the winter's night, with our bellies full, knowing we would be returning to The Lord Clifden. 

Whether for a Guinness, bar snacks or a bash at the new menu. Just the fact there is an option to return in real life not just in yesteryear memories is great, and for a city in need of successful pubs. 

I'm sure Paddy would agree.