The Yorkshire pub that delivers roasts, catches kittens and powers the village

The story goes that the first landlord of the Blacksmiths Arms, in 1664, was also the vicar at the church across the road. It sounds like an allegory fitting of the time, but Pete Trafford, serving in the very same bar on a hectic Monday lunchtime, assures me it is true.

Noting that his flock at the Norman Church of St Mary in the village of Lastingham, in the North Yorkshire moors, were thirsty after journeying across hill and dale to attend the weekly service, the vicar decided to turn publican. It was only Christian, after all. According to Trafford, that was his argument when the bishop took him aside, although “the bishop pointed out he was keeping [the congregation in the pub] longer by playing the fiddle,” he chuckles. Trafford, 72, exudes complete authority over the pumps in his shirt and tie. “I’ve worked since I was 15, and I’ve always worn a collar and tie,” he explains.

The Blacksmiths Arms remains all about meeting its congregation’s needs. Take the elderly regulars who were struggling to visit due to mobility issues: chef and landlord Ali Moran, 33, arranged takeaway roasts to be delivered to them. Or the villagers who pop in for milk because the local shops are no more (they were closed, leaving the 230 villagers with little choice when they’re caught short). Last winter, when the power went off for 48 hours in the village, the whole community gathered here, as the pub, with its generator, became the only place to get warm. Nadine Cooper, 58, who runs the village hall, relies on the Blacksmiths Arms to donate raffle prizes, host fundraising quizzes, and ring her “if sheep get into the grounds”. She also thanks the pub for catching her escaped kittens, Tommy and Alice, in the beer garden after three weeks on the run.

It is Cooper who wrote to The Telegraph, nominating the Blacksmiths Arms for our competition to find Britain’s finest pubs, part of our Save Our Pubs campaign, launched as an average of four pubs a day have folded this year, beleaguered by high taxes, National Insurance hikes, and soaring costs. Our judges picked five champions, of which the Blacksmiths Arms is one. They have won a £5,000 drinks tab for patrons to enjoy on National Pub Day on Saturday, May 16.

“It is a quintessentially English pub,” Cooper, who runs a holiday cottage in the village, explains. “It’s charming,” she says. “It has an open fire, the tankards, the flat caps…” She gestures to the paraphernalia around us. Pewter tankards, 140 in total, hang from the low ceiling, alongside an ever-changing number of perky flat caps – “people pinch them”, explains Trafford. “I once found a flat cap someone left here, so I threw it up on a nail,” he recalls. “Then the lads started to give me caps.”

Lads? “Old boys,” he clarifies. “Gamekeepers, farmers…” They are sometimes donated when their wearer passes, too. “Roy Biggins, he was a stalwart of the village, his cap is up there,” Trafford says. “Sid Elker.” It isn’t the only mark Elker left; he carved his name in the wall outside as a boy, alongside his brother Tucker’s initials.

There are a couple of hunting horns, too, a scattering of iron carriage wheel locks, and numerous stuffed birds, once including a former landlady’s pet duck, I’m informed, as well as the obligatory stag lamps, tweed, and fox-in-monocle statue, plus a beautiful fire in the range. But a truly special pub is more than just chintz and charm. “It’s the centre of the community,” says Cooper.

When she moved here from Nottingham with her husband John, 61, during the pandemic, the pub handed her a “village telephone directory” in case she needed to contact a local tradesperson or handyman. When it could reopen, it was the one place they were “able to meet people”. Today, their holiday let wouldn’t survive without it; the village hall would suffer. “If it was not here?” she ponders. “I’d move!” She adds: “We would lose community.”

Boyish-looking at 33, Moran is young to carry the weight of a community on his shoulders, not to mention the rich history carved into the walls, but he is passionately committed to the Blacksmiths Arms. Growing up on a nearby smallholding, he arrived in its kitchen aged 22, fresh out of college, and the “warm, Yorkshire hospitality” made him feel like he was at home. Back then, Trafford was the landlord alongside his wife, “Hils”. The pair gave Moran free rein to introduce “game taster evenings and seafood nights”.

One day, Moran asked, “If you ever want to sell it, would you sell it to me?” Trafford was delighted. “It’s just what I wanted,” he says. “And it was so great to know I could work with him and help him.” Sadly, Hils passed away in 2020 and never got to see the exchange the following year. “I hope she would be pleased,” says Moran.

Moran, who now also runs another pub, the White Horse Inn in Ampleforth, North Yorkshire, with his partner, knows what both his regulars and the tourists who fill his three B&B rooms want. While he has redecorated and created a beer garden for “pizza and music nights”, he has also left much unchanged. Sunday roasts with “proper” Yorkshire puddings made to “Lynn’s recipe” (a previous cook; “we go through a hell of a lot, 80 to 100 on a Sunday”); steak and ale pie, “the same pie for 30 or 40 years”, with “a top and a bottom”; four Yorkshire ales daily; darts on Mondays.

“Villages like this need a pub,” he understands. “It can be lonely at times… This is like their common room.” Villager Julie Marks, 56, hoots: “I’m here more than I’m at home.” Fizzier than the Yorkshire-produced tonics behind the bar, she explains the “food is very good”, but so is the “banter”. She adds: “A lot of business is done here. If you’re looking for a mechanic, a plasterer… there is usually one stood here at teatime.”

For visitors, it’s all about that “Yorkshire feel”. “It’s got atmosphere,” says retired teacher Mike Meager, 85, on a walking holiday with his wife, Vicky, 70. He praises Trafford’s collar and tie, twice. “We like the place, we don’t do modern,” adds retired nurse Linda, 69, lunching on minute steak (my taxi driver’s recommendation en route here) with her husband, Mick. “It’s an old-style pub with an old-style reputation and good beer.”

Yet Moran admits he has taken a risk. “Over the last five years we have faced many challenges,” he says. “Minimum wage and national insurance (contributions) is huge.” Both have increased, and Moran admits he can’t afford the staff he needs, meaning he never has a full day off. Then there’s his rent, which has soared to “almost unrealistic” levels, and his business rates, which, despite government relief of 15 per cent, are still higher than ever because of the increased valuation of the property. “And if we got a bit of relief on VAT, that would help hugely,” he says. “You get to the end of the quarter and you have a huge lump sum to find.”

Because his suppliers have all raised prices, he has had to as well, but he’s aware he “has a ceiling” customers won’t pay beyond. “We’ve just got to have a bit of Yorkshire grit and get through it.” Trafford is blunter: the Government “aren’t helping (pubs) at all,” he says.

But all that grit stays below the surface. To its punters, the Blacksmiths Arms remains serene. Sweet-smelling wisteria creeps idyllically around the pub’s distinctive sign, depicting a dedicated blacksmith focused on his anvil. Another sign, dating from at least the 1920s (you can spy it in sepia photographs on the walls), wishes patrons “rich or poor” a “hearty welcome”, as it always has. “Feel you’re at home,” it directs, “and ask for what you want.”

[Source: Daily Telegraph]