I had a Sunday roast in one of UK’s oldest pubs — I’m already planning next trip

A Sunday roast is a simple yet delightful pleasure. It doesn’t require any elaborate preparation, just a good variety of vegetables, high-quality meat cooked well and, of course, crispy roast potatoes accompanied by a delicious gravy.

However, this simplicity can make it challenging for one Sunday roast to distinguish itself from the next. You might recall a particularly good roast potato or an exceptionally rich gravy but generally there isn’t much variation from one roast dinner to another (and that’s not a criticism).

So when a Sunday roast does stand out, it’s often due to factors beyond the food. This was certainly the case with the Sunday roast I enjoyed at one of the UK’s oldest pubs.

Don’t get me wrong, the food was excellent – but it was the pub itself that truly captured my heart. In fact, I’m already planning a return visit with friends.

The Blue Anchor Inn is nestled in the village of Aberthaw, a few miles west of Cardiff along the coast. The building is a beautiful testament to its age, boasting a stunning thatched roof supported by stone walls, reports Wales Online.

Inside, it’s a cosy, dimly-lit labyrinth of rooms, low ceilings, and narrow staircases, making it easy to imagine what life was like centuries ago. The building dates back to 1380, making it one of the oldest pubs in the country.

According to a historical website, the inn’s business would have been linked to Aberthaw harbour, which was once a bustling port for the area (more on the harbour later). There are rumours of a secret tunnel connecting the waterfront with the pub, but it has never been discovered.

The pub is said to have derived its name from the distinctive blue mud that coated the anchors of the ships that sailed the channel before docking in Aberthaw.

What’s it like inside the Blue Anchor?

On a chilly and rainy November day, the sight of the Blue Anchor’s thatched roof and the warm light emanating from the windows is incredibly inviting. As soon as you step through the narrow entrance into a bar area with low ceilings, the age and history of the inn become immediately apparent, along with that cosy, comforting feeling that comes from being in a place that has welcomed people for centuries.

It’s a very busy and popular pub, our table was upstairs and the first challenge was locating the staircase itself amidst the maze of rooms, bars and corridors. I found it fascinating to imagine drunken sailors, and perhaps even smugglers, trying to navigate their way around by candlelight.

How’s the food?

In a nutshell, it’s great. This Sunday lunch is delicious and plentiful, satisfying without being overly extravagant.

The three-course meal costs £28.75 (though you’re not obliged to order all three). I opted for broccoli and potato croquettes as a starter, followed by turkey breast with homemade sage and onion stuffing as the main course.

Other options included roast topside of beef, roast leg of lamb, pan-fried sea bream and a vegan nut roast (which I sampled and found delightful). With such a variety, it caters to guests with diverse dietary needs. Other starters featured a vegan soup and smoked mackerel pate.

The meat (or nut roast) was served alongside generous helpings of boiled potatoes, broccoli, green cabbage, carrots and swede in separate dishes, accompanied by plenty of rich onion gravy in two large boats. The roast potatoes, liberally seasoned with black pepper, were a standout – so much so that I had to exercise considerable restraint to stop myself from devouring more of them after finishing my plate.

No one at our table opted for desserts, though the menu tantalised with options like sticky toffee pudding, creme brulee, chocolate brownie and a selection of ice creams for both vegans and non-vegans. We abstained from alcohol as well, but I couldn’t help noticing the impressive array of ales at the bar, from the likes of Grey Trees, Wye Valley Brewery and Wadworth.

On another occasion, I might have spent the afternoon sampling each one as the rain pattered against the windows.

A ‘hidden’ beach nearby

The highlight for me was the post-meal exploration to a stretch of coastline I’d never encountered before. It was so obscure, I’m not sure I’d ever heard it talked about.

Departing the pub, we trekked eastward along the road before veering off down a track that crosses disused railway lines near a station abandoned since 1964. The walkway was marred by an appalling amount of fly-tipping, but it led us to the sea.

The landscape was stark yet captivating, possessing a unique charm very different from the sort you’d find at the picturesque Tenby or Barafundle in Pembrokeshire. The pebbles at the shore were blanketed in the same blue-grey mud that inspired the pub’s name, and the kids excitedly searched for “fossils” among them.

With the rain lashing horizontally in spurts, we found ourselves alone in this dramatic setting, which would have been the perfect backdrop for the discovery of a body in the opening scene of a BBC murder mystery. The port of Aberthaw was once, in fact, a hotbed for smuggling, with records from 1735 detailing a rum seizure involving an inebriated smuggler.

Aberthaw is also home to the Aberthaw Nature Reserve. As well as the towering nearby chimney of the current Aberthaw power plant, you can also find the intriguing and abandoned old lime works, which visitors can explore on foot. By the 1750s, cement made with Aberthaw lime was known for its ability to set underwater, making it ideal for constructing sea walls and harbours.

Remnants of this industrial past, including a chimney, two large lime kilns, and some rudimentary railway tracks that would have transported raw materials to the kilns, are still visible today.

With the cold and wet conditions, the perfect conclusion to the walk would have been a return to the pub for one of their ales. Unfortunately, time did not permit on this occasion, but I will ensure there is ample time for it on my next trip.