Blog of Bill. Bill Blog.

Stopped at the McDoinks off US HWY 80 in Montgomery, AL, just east of the bustling aerodrome that is the Montgomery Regional Airport (MGM). Passed a few gutted hotels with interesting new branding and tenants and tucked in to some McNugs.

Check this out. Way more than 20 pieces. Fatass status achieved. Pairs well with their nuclear orange buffalo sauce that has a vague Elmer’s Glue scent and texture. And I was on my way. The entrance to AL HWY 331 southbound is truly one of the nation’s finest examples of breathtakingly depressing sprawl.

“At the edge of Hampstead Heath we heard a policeman’s heavy tramp, and laying the child on the pathway, we waited and watched until he saw it as he flashed his lantern to and fro. We heard his exclamation of astonishment, and then we went away silently. By good chance we got a cab near the “Spaniards,” and drove to town” – John Seward, M.D. (Dracula)

This passing mention of the historic Spaniard’s Inn in Stoker’s Dracula was all it took for me to add this to our London itinerary. After furiously punching the name in Google Maps, I was astonished to see the pub still in operation, under the same name, after 120-odd years. Even better, they appeared to have an absolutely stonking Sunday roast available. So on Easter Sunday we made our way out to Hampstead Heath via a Boris Bus.

The passing mention of this old Inn comes just after Dr. Seward and Van Helsing observe the “bloofer lady,” or Lucy Westerna’s ghost, and her appetite for children. Stoker offers nothing else about the Inn. It’s just a landmark for the characters, a little something to to bring the world into focus for his British readers.

We, of course, had to sit in the top level of the Boris Bus on our way out to Hampstead Heath which very quickly made us ill with the rapid swaying of the bus. Worth it for the views though. The bus quickly shuttled us from the St. Pancras area, through outer London, and into the very plush, green surrounds of Hampstead Heath. As we climbed up the hillside of the Heath, larger brick estates with gated drives quickly began to replace the ubiquitous row homes of outer London. Vauxhalls parked on the street became Porches on driveways, and Porsches became Astons on pea-gravel lanes as we neared Kenwood House and the surrounds of the Inn.

We got off at the wrong stop and subsequently walked the grounds of Kenwood House within the Heath itself as we were a little early to the reservation we made for dinner at Spaniards. Apparently it’s where Taylor Swift once went on a date with someone. She too sought sustenance at Spaniard’s afterward. Go figure.

The Inn lies at nearly the top of a steep hill, quite close to the edge of the road. The road itself narrows to a single lane at the Inn, as it is pinched between the corner of the Inn itself and an old guardhouse building, and curves uphill around the Inn to the right. This makes for a very exciting return ride down the hill. The massive (and top heavy) red busses shoot themselves downhill through this narrow gap at a great speed and riding one down feels like what I imagine Spa’s Eau Rouge would feel like in reverse.

Fascinatingly, this Inn dates back to maybe the 16th century, and once marked the border between the Hampstead and the neighboring Highgate. Thanks to the linked blog (A London Inheritance) above, I now know the Inn formed part of a toll road gate/booth complex between the two towns, hence the bend in the road and narrow gap between guardhouse and Inn. The complex even appears in the John Rocque’s 1746 map of London.

As for the Inn itself, I thought it was a great setting for a Sunday Roast. Not that I am an aficionado of that sort of thing, but we had a hell of a time. We entered through what is a typically English pub setting; a long wood paneled bar and surrounds with stone hearth roaring in a corner. Glistening beer taps, creaking wood floors, oil paintings of prize horses, livestock, and men. All of the stereotypes.

Even on Easter Sunday, there were reservations available. We had a 6:45 or 7:00 reservation and the Inn was busy but not full. They’ve got a huge outdoor dining space that’s well equipped for English weather with heaters and blankets and whatnot.

We opted for the Mega Sunday Roast for Two (not its name but I can’t remember its formal title) that had a little bit of each meat (beef, chicken, lamb) and what seem to be the typical Roast trappings of some rolls, roasted veggies, taters, and the gravy. Got some scotch eggs too because why not. Easily fed two. Beer was good too, but it most always is.

I think if Van Helsing and Seward actually stopped, they probably would’ve liked it. Shame they wouldn’t be able to experience the Boris Bus sending itself full tilt through the kink though. Definitely worth the relatively short bus quest out to the Heath if you’re in London over a Sunday.

That’s pretty much it for dinner. Waddled out, caught the bus back and KO’ed in the dinky Tavistock hostel.