A few days before we visited The Royal Oak, I had time to kill

before an engagement and dropped into an old haunt for a swift

tonsil-moistener.

Re-visiting what used to be a popular neighbourhood pub was

a salutary experience.

The girl behind the bar asked me if I'd booked a table for

lunch. I told her I hadn't.

Did I want a table? No, I just wanted a drink.

She recoiled. It was as if I'd said that I had a sack full

of rats and I'd rather like to liberate them in the kitchen if

it was all the same with her.

This was Oliver Twist in reverse. It was not wanting gruel

that marked me out as a troublemaker.

The girl told me that I could stand at the microscopic bar,

but only if I occupied a space about a yard wide.

She then went away to lavish attention on a quartet of

diners, returning later with a look that said "are you still

here?"

I left feeling depressed, and outside I ran into a former

regular who complained bitterly that locals were no longer

welcome in their own local.

The reason I mention this is that The Royal Oak struck me as

one of those old-fashioned neighbourhood pubs that seem able to

make a success out of food without neglecting the needs of

thirsty locals.

Rightly or wrongly, I got the impression that regulars are

treated the same, whether they be regular eaters or regular

drinkers. And newcomers are not made to feel like unwelcome

intruders, either.

Although somewhat overshadowed by its popular neighbour, The

Broughton Arms (Rode Heath's other pub), The Royal Oak is a

homely, unassuming sort of place, a fine building that's

unpretentiously furnished and decorated.

It's a place in which it's easy to relax and enjoy decent

food served by staff who are youthful, pleasant and efficient

without being overly solicitous.

We were not asked ad nauseam if everything was all right

with our meals.

It being Monday, we were eligible for the special deals on

grills which are available from Monday to Wednesday between 5pm

and 9pm: 8oz gammon, £4.50; 8oz rump, £4.99; 8oz sirloin,

£5.99; 8oz ribeye, £5.99.

In a commendable display of feminine thrift, both Herself

and the Girlfriend chose the special ribeye, prime steaks

cooked exactly as ordered and served with a peppery Montreal

seasoning and all the usual trimmings, including some very

choice mushrooms.

Meanwhile, the Son and Heir was getting himself on the

outside of a formidable T-bone (£12.95), a pound of juicy beef

which was so much to his liking that barely a morsel was

left.

As well as grilled steaks, though, there's a range of "Oak

specials" - popular dishes at reasonable prices - as well as

sizzlers, salads, pastas dishes and fish. From the latter I

chose the grilled halibut in a cucumber sauce.

I like halibut and enjoyed the fish, but I didn't think the

sauce did it any favours.

We'd ordered different starters. I had a generous wedge of

smooth and tasty chicken liver pate (£2.95) served with not

quite enough toast; Herself's warm Brie and walnut salad

(£3.50) was delicious, so were the Son and Heir's breaded

mushrooms with garlic mayonnaise (£3.50) and the Girlfriend

seemed entirely satisfied with her traditional prawn cocktail

(£3.50).

Stung by recent accusations of lacking imagination when it

comes to dessert, I ordered the brandysnap basket with

ice-cream and fresh strawberries (£2.50) and it was divine (not

a murmur of complaint from my fillings, either).

I could easily get addicted to sweet puddings like this,

although I appreciate that if I did it would be a very heavy

blow for the cheese industry to bear.

Herself had the strawberry and kiwi fruit sundae (£2.95),

the Son and Heir chose the banana and toffee sundae (£2.95) and

the girlfriend ordered the chocolate fudge cake (£2.50).

Full marks all round.

The place was quite busy for a Monday evening, but that

hardly surprising when you consider that a steak dinner, with

starter and dessert, can cost little more than £10 in the early

part of the week.

This review was first published in Sentinel Sunday on

January 14, 2007.