Upon seeing the name of this establishment, I had to immediately research the name. It sounded…read moreawesome, like a guild of thieves or an unspoken division of the police department. COMING NEXT SUMMER TO CINEMAS: THE CROFTERS. They were Britain's last line of--oh, crofters are farmers with small plots. Well, that's disappointing. It's like naming a pub The Farmers, which...okay, makes sense in Scotland; I was just expecting something a tad bit more grandiose. It sure looked liked a cool pub. It shared with its Canadian counterparts an overt use of stained wood and rustic decor. However, with the Crofters, it came as a result of an actual dated design and not the intention to appear old fashioned. Also, despite there still being a small number of TVs scattered about, I found no neon alcohol adverts. Good start. It was late in the afternoon; I was minutes away from meeting my future girlfriend for the first time. I knew she wouldn't be hungry, so I took the liberty to start my Scottish experience on the right foot. I ordered a chicken pot pie.
They're out of chicken.
Crap
OK, take two, I ordered a steak and ale pie. Better. By this time, my eyes fell on the nearby door, waiting for her to enter. I began to imagine sitting positions I should take, orientations to the door I should assume, opening words I would say. This was our first physical meeting. I gave the chair a slight pivot to face the exit and waited. As it turned out, there was another entrance to the Crofters, and I soon noticed Savanna already staring at me.
I guess I should discuss the food. Like Canada, Scotland appears to prefer making their portions a suitable size for Maori rugby players, and The Crofters is no exception. The pie was a proper one, not some bizarre deconstructionist example of what a pie could look like in some mirror universe where up is down, women are men, and cats are dogs. I had to break apart the thick pastry to get at the piping hot meaty interior. The pie itself was not big, but the stack of fries--oh, I mean chips--was immense, and I could barely finish the plate. The dish was good, an oddity apparently according to my companion given that so many pubs only serve meals as an afterthought to alcohol...so not much different than pubs in Canada then.
It's difficult to separate my subjectivity from my objectivity in this case, ironic given my constant reminding that I support a critic's right to be subjective in his or her reviews. The Crofters will be marked as the first meeting place of someone very special to me, so in that, I can't offer anything critical about it. Thankfully, it wasn't bad, but recalling that brief hour, I don't know if there was anything I could pull out as being negative. There was an automatic gambling machine. Okay, that's one.
Yup, no, that was it. The Crofters is worthy of praise in that it didn't suck in any specific way, forcing a distraction from more important matters at hand. I mean, I didn't go, "Holy hell, this food is good!" to my girlfriend the moment she walked in the door. I didn't waste one second in my conversation with her discussing the qualities of the cuisine. It was enough to be remembered as not bad in a day that was kind of awesome. Take that for all it's worth.
Food: 3.5/5
Service: 3/5
Presentation: 4/5
Value: 3.5/5
Recommendation: 3.5/5