1 Hannover Quay, Bristol. BS1 5JE
0117 925 4585
http://www.spitfirebarbeque.com
One of the good things about the Bungalow in Frampton Cotterell is that we’re right on a Bus Stop.
We can see the number 46X from our lounge ( or as it was called when I lived with my Mum and Dad, the ‘Other Room’) as it comes down our street and that gives us enough time to get to the stop.
So, we’ve taken to catching an early bus into Bristol where we can have a few drinks without having to worry about driving.
Last Saturday we met some friends at the Bus Stop and took the 40 minute trip into Bristol.
Riding on a bus brings back so many memories.
I remember traveling home from a night out on the last bus was always a bit frightening but it was great to get a seat in the warmth after standing in the cold for ages.
When we were kids we always looked up to the bus conductor, especially the young ones who used to hang off the back of the bus to wolf whistle at the girls. They had the same balance and skill’s as the guy’s on the Wurlitzer at the fair.
They always looked so romantic, with their uniform and a fag end (we called them Chippers) behind their ear.
Gone is the top deck for smokers.
The bus stops at the Bus Station in Broadmead which was ‘Greaser Central’ in the 60’s.
This was a no go area for a young wannabe Mod and you had to run the gauntlet when you got off the bus here.
Mod’s on the other hand had the City Centre as their domain. This was where all the Boutiques were sited. My favourite was Carnaby One right smack on the Centre. We would get off the number 28 bus and stand in front of the window dreaming about owning a pair of check trousers or flared jeans (Bell Bottoms we called them).
So it was in this direction that we headed, walking out of the back of the Station, through a small park then onto the main road with its noise and the chaos exasperated by road works.
Bristol seems to be completely at the mercy of road works these day with almost every road either closed or restricted. Thank you Red Trousers.
Our first stopping off point was Christmas Steps, a small pub named after the steep steps which in the 60’s hosted yet more boutiques and record stores a plenty.
The Steps does a good selection of beers and some interesting ciders but be warned. The ciders in the boxes are great when they’re fresh but if they’ve been there a while, they can be like vinegar. I chose a draught Strongbow cloudy which was fine.
We sat outside in the small outdoor space at the back. Not really a garden more a terrace shielded by a few tubs of plants. However, this was soon in the shade so we drank up and moved on.
We drifted toward the Docks and all the bars this now offers.
Like most city centres the docks has seen some major changes recently.
In the dark distant past the ships came right into the centre of Bristol. We have a history of importing slaves which is still reflected in the names of the streets and roads. Blackboy Hill, White-ladies Rd etc.
Even when I was a boy it was a thriving port with ship’s loading and unloading Cargo.
My uncle was a docker and he used to walk down to the docks every day in the hope of getting picked to unload a boat. If he didn’t ( they called it ‘Bumping’) he would walk home again and loose a days money.
We used to play Pirates with his Dockers Hook.
We ended up at Millennium Square and found a table in the sunshine at Los Iguanas where we indulged in a few 2 for 1 cocktails of undistinguished character and watched the world go by till the sun finally went behind one of the new blocks of apartments.
I suggest we head for Spitfire BBQ which Jaki and I had discovered last time we were strolling around the docks. It looked like a nice venue and the menu was laced with BBQ sauces.
When we got there it was full to the brim and the smell of smoked meat drifted across the harbour side defying anyone to walk past.
We found a table outside which for the time being was still in the sun and as it cooled down the waiters lit (or attempted to light, they were pretty rubbish at it) a fire pit to keep us warm.
The Menu didn’t disappoint. It had all the classic BBQ favourites and a range of smokey or spicy sauces. However, some of the steaks were very expensive and looking at the food served to other customers, HUGE so be warned.
Our server was attentive and friendly (though he got somewhat distracted by the fire lighting ceremony) and the Bottles of House wine he recommended were declared excellent even by my mate Steve whose a bit of a Wine Anorak.
Steve and Jaki went for the Camp Fire Cow .
The menu on their web site says this is a ’14 oz Rib eye at £29.95 but I can’t imagine the steak they had was anywhere near this size and it certainly wasn’t that price. Maybe they had some specials or maybe they have changed the sizes but which ever, it was a good size steak and they both declared it excellent.
I went for the Whole Spitfire Chicken With Louisiana hot sauce (£19.95 ) and dirty fires (fries with pulled pork piled on top of them) at £3.50. A great Choice.
Kathy went for one of the Burgers but I’m at a loss to remember which one.
This is a Great Restaurant if you like meat and if you like your meat Smoked, BBQ’d or covered in Spicy sauce. If not, don’t bother, there are plenty of other places that don’t serve a whole Wildebeest on toast.
So after stuffing ourselves, we made our way back to the Bus station, stopping on route in the White Lion (another old Mod pub) for one last drink, or maybe two.
The White Lion is famous for its stairs leading down to the loo’s so I chose to hold on and to wait till I got to the bus station which was a mistake as they had locked the toilets.
Locked the toilets at 1030 -11pm when everyone leaving the Pubs wants to have a pee.
Are they MAD?
So we went across the road to Subway, ordered some tea and coffee and asked to use the toilets.
“Sorry, they’re out of order”. Said our server with a satisfied smirk. Did he know something?
The only option was to hold it till we got home. Another 40 minutes, that won’t be so bad, right?
What I didn’t count on was the Bus breaking down in Stapleton and having to wait for a mechanic to come out and fix it!
I have never been so pleased to get home.
Or as my Brother used to say. “I glad I home.”
In search of a great Breakfast 