The Travel Critic

One of the great, unheralded delights of life is walking into a pub with zero expectations and being utterly floored by what you find. And, let’s be honest, in an age where chain restaurants and the ghastly Wetherspoons have sucked the soul out of so many British high streets, such a discovery feels almost miraculous. But then, Birmingham, like London, still remembers how to do a pub properly. It’s an art form, you know. And The Church Pub and Dining Room proves it’s still alive and well.

Walking through the door here felt like coming home—well, not literally home (I don’t have a bar in my house or some random bloke with a dog permanently camped out in the corner), but it just feels right. That soft, comforting glow. The murmur of proper conversation. The soft scrape of chairs on wooden floors. And the barman? A man who can pour a Guinness with the sort of care and precision that makes you want to give him a round of applause. You don’t get that in a chain.

There’s no ridiculous fuss on the menu here either. No sourdough platters or tapas-esque small plates masquerading as a meal. No, on the bar sat a simple menu: pie and pint. That’s it. It’s the sort of food that doesn’t need to try too hard because it knows what it is. Proper pub food. And what a revelation that is in 2024.

And the pie? Very, very good indeed. Rich, deep flavours wrapped in pastry that could hold its own in any kitchen. The kind of meal you dig into with a smile on your face, a pint within arm’s reach, and no sense of time passing, because this is what pubs are for. For being. For stopping, sitting, and soaking it all in.

The Church doesn’t try to be clever. It’s just excellent, and in today’s pub landscape, that’s enough to make it feel like a small, personal victory. Birmingham does a pub properly, and thank God for that.