Fylingdales Inn, Fylingthorpe: Hearty pub food in postcard surroundings

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The Fylingdales Inn is a venue that ticks all the boxes of the perfect country pub.

Nestled away in the small coastal village of Fylingthorpe, this is an establishment that could sit neatly on a classic postcard and it hosts a warm, welcoming atmosphere to boot.

The only thing lacking was connection to 3G, though that did force the treat of a few words of conversation from 13-year-old Jack.

The lay-out of the place is very relaxed, hosting a cosy bar area with an open fire, perfect for the winter months that will soon approach.

That flows into a panoramic conservatory and a reasonably-sized family lounge, which we chose to plonk ourselves in.

Tables can be booked to make sure of a seat, but on most occasions there is plenty 
of room in any of the three rooms.

Starters can be ordered stretching from chicken wings, homemade smoked salmon fishcakes and marinated olives through to a camembert starter for two.

Tempted as we were by these, we decided to move straight on to the main course.

These are divided into different groups – from the grill, from the sea, from the garden and classics.

Being easily pleased, my staple diet in pubs is a burger and a pint.

The Fylingdales Inn took this luxury to new levels and fortunately kept the rest of the family happy as well.

The food was swiftly ordered and the kids disappeared to check out a play equipment-filled beer garden.

The three youngsters were also offered a family pack of colouring and puzzles to keep them entertained.

For £10.95 I ordered the blue cheese burger, while Sarah opted for a Seafood Chowder, priced at £12.55.

The kids went for fishfingers and chips, pasta bolognese and another blue cheese burger respectively, all costing between £5.95 and £4.95.

Turnover was swift and we were soon munching away on vast plates of food.

My Stilton-smothered, juicy burger was housed in a ciabatta, garnished by a mountain of hand-made chips, homestyle coleslaw and salad – to make me feel better about myself.

Sarah’s chowder was chunky and creamy with a hint of chilli, that didn’t overpower, but caught the back of the throat.

By the time I looked up for a sip of my Old Peculiar, the kids’ dinner was in its dying embers, though Jack continued to force his burger into his mum’s face, stating that she needed to taste the quality of it.

Despite starving myself for much of the day I was contentedly full, though there were a selection of desserts for those still peckish.

The kids always seem to have room for pudding, and with such an inviting choice, it took them a while to make their selection.

Maia went for the run of the mill two scoops of vanilla ice-cream, while the boys moved on to share a rather large After Eight sundae.

You can’t go wrong with an ice cream and a good sign from Maia was that she didn’t complain.

The pace that the sundae disappeared suggested that everything was in order, as did the beaming grins afterwards, from everybody.


Food 8

Menu choice 7

Service 6

Decor 6

Ambience 8