Dec 10 2006 By Eddy Eats, The Sunday Sun
Telephone number: 01207 233217
Spontaneity is something I'm not a big fan of. The last time I did something radically off-the-cuff was when I bought a pair of blue socks instead of black.
Anything that hasn't been carefully planned has a tendency to end in disaster I find . . . just take Janet Jackson's breast-baring appearance at the Superbowl a few years ago.
More of a "wardrobe malfunction" than anything my blue socks can compete with . . . and all so avoidable with a little extra thought and care!
That's why I like to have my Sunday Scrans organised in advance rather than throwing caution to the wind and plumping for any old establishment. I should have learned my lesson last month when I visited the Toby in Sunderland without booking, although the 15-minute wait wasn't too bad.
But did I learn? Did I jiggery!
This time the wait was at the Hill Top in Stanley, a pub we stumbled across after taking the Eatsmobile out for a drive in the Durham countryside.
Mrs Eats' stomach was soon rumbling and the sight of the Hill Top perched - you've guessed it - on the top of a hill, was enough to persuade us to ditch the car and make our way inside.
There we were met by the landlord who informed us that it would be around a half-hour wait for a table, given how busy the restaurant was. We positioned ourselves at the bar and had a drink while trying to ignore the gorgeous smell of roast dinners that kept wafting up our nostrils.
Now I'm one of the world's worst at waiting for a table, always convincing myself that I've been forgotten about, but the extremely pleasant and helpful staff at the Hill Top constantly kept us up to date with how long our table would be.
And, in what seemed like the twinkling of an eye, we were soon directed to our seats.
We were fortunate to be placed at one of the best tables, right next to the window with stunning views across the hills and field below. What a result. The Sunday lunch menu contained the usual suspects of lamb, beef, turkey, chicken and pork, all priced at £6.95.
I went for the pork, while She Who Must Be Fed plumped for the lamb, and we were both delighted at the portions when they arrived, with lashings of meat on both plate along with roast and boiled potatoes, and a Yorkshire pudding.
The vegetables on offer were carrots, turnip, sprouts and cabbage, and while they could have done with being a bit warmer, it still didn't take long for them to disappear.
Having opted out of a starter in order to ensure room for dessert, I chose the apple crumble with ice-cream and Mrs Eats went for the crème brulee, selected from a good selection of sweets. The only complaint to be had from either of us came from the missus, who thought her pudding could have been larger . . . but then Mrs E does take some filling at times.
However, with spectacular views like the ones we'd experienced, accompanied by good service and fine food, it was a minor blemish on an otherwise excellent sortie.
It left me to wonder whether a little bit of spontaneity isn't such a bad thing after all. Now, where are those blue socks?