The Woolpack Inn - Thrapston

Gastropub. What does that word mean to you? Does it conjure up images of real ales, menus printed daily and 'specials' that actually justify the term?

If it does then how often do you find such a beast? About as often as you find a tenner down the back of the sofa, in my experience; rarely and with some considerable joy when you do.

Well, fret not because The Woolpack Inn certainly doesn't buck the trend. Mrs P. and I visited the place recently on the hunt for a decent Sunday lunch but were treated, if treated is the right word, to a litany of Schoolboy errors, such that any self-respecting chef should cry themselves to sleep over.

Starters - Mine was Chicken Pate, Mrs P. went with the deep fried Brie. First impressions were not great; bloody chefy tiles. How many more times do I have to shout it out? THEY DON"T MAKE THE FOOD TASTE NICER!! Secondly, Mrs P's was frozen in the middle. That had to go back to the kitchen but also started us on the road to suspicion. Frozen? That said pre-prepared, and it's only a small step from there to pre-supplied... hmm, not looking good. The pate, by the way, was fairly good if a little grainy. Personally, I like a good coarse terrine to a smooth pate but it was well seasoned and the toast was thin and crisp.

Mains - Mrs P was the Hunters Chicken (trust me, it wasn't worth the picture) and I got the Roast Pork Sunday lunch. Oh dear. It is pictured here only due to the complete shambles that it represented. The veg was cold and under seasoned, the meat; cold and in tiny proportions. The gravy, you guessed it; cold and the potatoes? Piping hot!  The whole dish would have gone back again had we not been eating with relatives who, after the brie incident, were set about convincing themselves and us how delicious the meal was. Embarrassing them would have served no purpose and so we soldiered on. I attempted to warm as much of the dish as possible by mushing up the potatoes with the broccoli but in all honesty, I just ended up pushing it all around the plate.

Mrs P. couldn't finish her chicken either - the rich cheese and sweet, heavy bottled BBQ sauce combo defeated her only half way through.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that the puddings were actually lovely. The fudge cake was OK but the Chocolate Bread and Butter pudding was a delight. Beautiful with custard, it was by far and away the start of the show. Which is unfortunate because for an establishment which not only looks the part but also tries to pride itself on decent, modern pub grub, it simply doesn't deliver.

http://www.thewoolpackinn.com