At the end of last week, whilst driving to Rugby, we happened to drive through the village of Dunchurch and Jill, with her eagle eye, happened to spot that the Dun Cow had a pie day on Wednesdays; so today we ventured forth on a hunt for a decent pie.
At the crossroads in the village stands the Dun Cow, an old coaching inn with an elegant exterior. Opposite is a rather grand milestone, erected in 1813, mounted on a plinth that appears to belong to an earlier period.
To cut a long story we nipped into the pub and perused the bill of fare. Amongst the pies there was a venison, bacon and port pudding, no question, we both went for it. It was a good choice, I had the red cabbage with it, superb..
Lovely dining room, Jill is busily masticating her pudding so isn't smiling, she was really happy though, honest.
Dessert, they had Sussex Pond pudding on the menu. That's a whole lemon, wrapped in suet pastry and steamed, they served it with ice cream and it was wonderful. Memories of a Sussex childhood, only we had it with custard. The beer was good as well.
The pub is named after the Dun Cow, a monstrous beast that stood four yards tall and six yards long and provided milk for all of Warwickshire until it was upset by a local witch. It then lumbered off to Dunsmore Heath from where it ravaged the local area until it was slain by Sir Guy of Warwick. All true of course, you can check it on Wikipedia.
Having eaten far more than was good for us we set off for a stroll around the village.
Half timbered buildings abound, many of them thatched, including
the only thatched bus stop I've seen. Cute eh?
The church of St. Peter looms over the old alms houses and the statue to Lord John Douglas Montagu Douglas Scott that now stands forlornly on a traffic island.
From outside the church looks splendid but once you get inside it becomes obvious that the hand of the Victorian restorers has rested heavily upon it.
Not a trace of ancient graffiti could we find. There were three piscina though.
Rather extravagant for a parish church.
High up on the tower, next to the bell openings there are the remains of a mass dial, basically a sundial used to show the time of services pre church clocks. What it is doing at the top of the tower I have no idea, I presume it has just been used as a spare stone to repair the wall at some time.
The local thatcher obviously has a sense of humour, the cat faces the peacock along the length of the ridge.
By now we were getting chilled by the rotten north wind so it was back in the motor, and with Jill driving for the first time since her op. we came home.
Lovely village, if a little overrun with traffic and a super pub restaurant, we were glad we made the trip.
Watch this space...............
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