The Windmill, Bristol, 02.02.09

Who said the local pub is dead? Well I've probably said it myself before now, but my own local "The Windmill" goes a long way to reassure me. Bristol has many faces. The wineries and trendy gastro pubs of Clifton are gentile, unchallenging and safe. They draft in droves of young graduates, students and habitat conscious families who recycle their nespresso capsules but simultaneously park the 4x4 halfway up the pavement in the area's already groaning streets. The harbour and city centre caters for the hens, stags and general lads-on-tour, but is dotted with reliable gems such as Bordeaux Quay, the Rummer Hotel and the Arnolfini cafe.

What about Bristol's southside? Southville has already reputedly up and come, and it has laid a fuse then is gently igniting North Street on its way to Bedminster and throught to confident Totterdown. Enter Windmill Hill- an enclave of calm and understated artistry on the southern cusp of Bedminster. I am biased of course, but what better place to jump into the city centre avoiding the student masses whilst cultivating a few veggies in your patch out the back?

Back to the point. The local. The Windmill pub on Windmill Hill genuinely is my local, not just the nicest pub nearby that I'll admit to. From what I understand, it has undergone a bit of a cultural revolution in the past few years, kicking the dingey local boozer theme for a fresher face whilst retaining a certain traditional pub elegance. Yes there's some obligatory contemporary wallpaper, but the Windmill's secret lies in its grass roots approach. Uncoordinated wooden tables and chairs, a jukebox, papers, an outdoor terrace serving as the beer garden- it's simple stuff but it retains a formula that has worked for decades.

There are beers courtesy of Bristol Beer Factory plus some tasty European lagers. Most of the time I'm popping in for a pie and who else to provide them but Pieminister? Bristol-based Pieminister prides itself on free range meat and the hand-made element. They're exporting these pies nationwide now and their website boasts that even Her Maj has enjoyed one (or maybe two or three). The Windmill serves them with build your own options- mash, minty mushy peas, gravy (all with an extra price tag). One option is salad- if I was a pie I'd think it a bit rude to be honest. There are also generous plates of meze when your mood for pie has waned (not likely). It is child friendly and often there's a Krypton Factoresque route through the family room to the terrace (probably some Southville buggies), but you can escape it in the bar with the papers and wi-fi. If you want to be really unpopular, pick the enormous table on the left, spread the Sunday papers, fire up your wi-fi and dribble gravy drown your chin. Nothing better...