The Jigger Inn made us jig

“Get the bus!” my friends spending the weekend in St Andrews urged me as I planned to join them for lunch.

“We’re going to the Jigger Inn!” they excitedly told me.

I agreed, thinking, “This will not end well.”

There’s something about being in a pub before midday – you just know it’s going to end in a long afternoon, lost to the demon drink.

And so it, almost, was, for we were saved by the quality and the quantity of the Jigger Inn’s food.

Part of the Old Course Hotel complex, the former stationmaster’s house bills itself as the most famous 19th hole in golf.

It’s given over to the golfing greats, with
signed baseball caps, golfing memorabilia and pictures supplying the decor.

None of that was of any great interest to me, after the great welcome we got from the staff.

Our request for white wine was greeted with the ubiquitous “large or small” – and not an eyelid was batted when we firmly replied “bottle”.

We weren’t rushed into ordering our food giving us time to catch up and indulge in some people watching – though no big names appeared as one of those we chatted with recounted meeting on past visits.

When we did order, the food arrived in good time - and plentiful quantities of much needed mopping-up material.

Straight in to the main courses, and it was the Jigger for two of us – a huge bun was filled to overflowing with an
equally huge burger, garnished with cheese
and bacon, salad, sauce, with freshly cooked

We were both somewhat defeated by the size of the portion, having to abandon most of the delicious bun and concentrate on the meat.

The third member of the party went for the beer battered fish and chips, served with mushy peas.

I think she was surprised when it
appeared that the local seas had yielded up a whale for her delectation.

However, she woman-fully ate her way through it – denying we carnivores even a taste of her fish, so much did she enjoy it.

So it was only the burger man and woman who managed puddings, all named after golfers.

(Henry) Vardon’s chocolate tart was a chocoholic’s dream – thick and unctuous chocolate set in perfect pastry.

There was no sharing this one, and my pudding partner refused me a taste of his (James) Braid’s sticky toffee pudding.

Again, there were cries of “OMG – will you look at the size of that” when the puds appeared.

To describe the
Jigger’s portions as generous is an understatement, but with food as delicious as this it would be wrong to carp about it – and we did eat every mouthful.

The plenitude of the
food did much to
ameliorate the effects of
the wine – but bus travel was the day’s best