Coasting by

A trip to west Cornwall last week meant relishing the incomparable joy of the rural pub, writes Josh Barrie. 

It had been too long since my last visit to Cornwall, the pandemic and laziness to blame. One of my first stops was The Gurnard’s Head, an exceptionally cosy outpost in Zennor, not far from St Ives but not too close either. At The Gurnard’s Head, with its mustard hues and its low beams, the fire burns, the John Dory is delicate, and if you need to borrow tobacco from your waitress because the nearest shop is 20 minutes away, you can.

It is also important to make time to visit The Tolcarne Inn, Newlyn, where the chef Ben Tunnicliffe cooks seafood perfectly, and just metres from the harbour. Even monkfish tails find themselves becoming irresistible – a few eager chefs in London might pay the pub a visit to learn. It is not only the fish, though, but the fact the pub is a mess of disjointed walls, elegantly unkept softness, and the haziest of candles. 

There are similar pubs all over Cornwall. Some are terrible but are vital all the same. All that fresh air and excellent local produce. I think, to replenish the soul, there is nowhere like a pub in the farthest reaches of England. Come evening, having traipsed about on the sand and splashed about in the sea, they are warm, often under a canopy of stars, and are happily isolated from the boundless irritations of the modern world.

Say ‘ahh’ and have something other than Doom Bar, why don’t you.

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