The least escapable two words in Kent loom large as you stumble from bright market square bustle into the perpetual twilight of the front bar. Shepherd Neame. Affectionately monikered Shep’s, less generously as “Christ, another bloody Shep’s?” depending to whom you talk. Channel the former here as you’re a bottle of Spitfire’s throw from the brewery. Dried hop bines, antique wood panels, open fires warming snugs, right-leaning newspapers, “built in” dates capable of making Americans faint. Central casting territory. Bring your own Agatha Christie inspired script. Master Brew perfectly kept. This is as good as mediocre can taste. The locals are immune to it, I hear. No, seriously, the number of (potentially tall) tales I’ve heard about someone seeing off a baker’s dozen pints of the stuff before heading to start drinking properly is racking up. One pint is enough before activating the Shep’s Cheat Code™: asking for a bottle of their almost perfect 1698 English strong ale from the fridge behind the bar.
The Bear Inn, 3 Market Pl, Faversham, Kent ME13 7AG
Ah, choice. Sometimes easy to forget it exists in the totalitarian state of Shepherd Neame. Feel the saliva-inducing nature of the word “Freehouse” as it rolls off your tongue. If this region was a two-party state, Micropubs would be jostling Dear Leader Shep’s supremacy. This is Micropub party HQ and its members are militant. Old shopfront floor-to-ceiling windows fogged up with good chat. Trendy cask offerings from this decade’s darlings Verdant, Track and Deya nestle harmoniously alongside local, twiggier offerings (recruiting the Shep’s deserters is good for business, you know). Fresh air and Micropubs are often uneasy bedfellows, but there are treats for lungs as well as livers out in the backyard. Long tables, convivial locals and a semi-permanent(?) marquee to get us through the murkier elements of Kentish climate. Rarely do I think “this was the pub that this town needed when it opened in 2014”, but I did when stumbling back out onto Preston Street.
Furlongs Ale House, 6a Preston St, Faversham, Kent ME13 8NS
Beyoncé’s gone Country, don’t you know? Well, this place did it first. Tennessee Hunting Lodge is the energy, but you can’t get into King’s Cross in an hour from the Blue Ridge Mountains, can you? Exposed brick, light woodwork, vintage signs and pennants, and plaid (bartender’s shirt, at least). Americana, but not total shit. A hard thing to achieve on these fair isles. We’re coming out of the era of thoughtless mega tap lists in craft beer joints. Forty beers, half of them hazy pales around the 5% ABV mark? No, chef. Give me a dozen taps, carefully curated to balance what could be either an evening of taste exploration or a settle-in-and-have-five-of-the-same. That’s what we have here. Smoked helles; a crisp German pilsner; something that’s hung out in a foeder with some adjuncts; an export stout; a west coast leaning IPA; and thank-the-almighty only one hazy pale in sight. Something for everyone. Well, unless you fancy thirteen pints of Master Brew.
The Creeker’s Tap, 37 Preston St, Faversham, Kent ME13 8PE
Pub Vignettes is a fortnightly collection of impressions of the world’s more interesting drinking spots.
For those who’ve followed along for more than a decade via the now-retired Beermack site, welcome back. For those newer to this parish, welcome.