Most people can recall the first time they had a drink and the first time they actually bought a drink themselves, just as well as the first kiss and that moment you went all the way. Mine, the buying a drink bit, not first base, was in The Three Chimneys when I was about 15, struggling to look much older. Casually sauntering to the bar in my black ex-Navy greatcoat, I nervously asked the barman, not for which drink but just announcing I wanted to buy one. It hadn’t occurred to me that one was just required to define the actual beverage, the rest implied. I was a bit stumped. A flagon of cider on the bar caught my eye and I pointed at it. It was my second mistake. It was local Biddenden Cider, one the great English ciders but also one of the strongest. Luckily, at that time, they wisely only served it in half pints, although it didn’t take many until I removed myself to the carpark and removed the cider from myself. That must of been my first hangover too, come to think about it.
The Chims, as it is affectionately known by its hardened irregulars, was, at that time, a tiny, ancient, rural ale house in the middle of bloody nowhere. It is still miles from civilisation but, since current landlord, Craig Smith, took it on in 2000, it has tripled in size, adding not only several dining areas and a first class kitchen, but 5 guest rooms in a converted cob nuttery, whatever that is, set in the pub’s extensive gardens.
It is said that you always return to the scene of your crime and, since my youthful transgression against responsible drinking, I have been regularly returning to the Chims for over 50 years. Who wouldn’t? It is one of the finest country pubs in Albion and has awards to prove it. Luckily they still sell Biddenden Cider, nowadays dispensed in whatever measure you wish to poison yourself with. It is refreshingly light to the palate but still deceptively strong. I never learn although nowadays I am wiser and more practiced so the carpark is safe.
The carpark itself can be quite a highlight. All the extensions to the premises over the last 20 years have had been built most considerately, in keeping with the the original building, parts of which date back to the 15th century. From the outside you can’t see the join. So it is with the carpark. It has not had a whiff of tarmac anywhere near it, remaining a rough uneven plot of scrubland, right across the front of the pub, and rightly so. What makes it so outstanding is that, on a good day, it can resemble a well attended Classic Car Show.
Those city traders who cashed in their hedge funds and moved down to the more elegant parts of rural Kent, do like a vintage saloon to nip down to the local in. They’re certainly not going to walk 10 miles, a pair of Hunters or not, and the wife will have taken the Porsche SUV to go to her Pilates class. Come Sunday lunchtime, there may well be a score or so of concours-quality classic cars pulled up on the gravel outside the Chims. I’ve seen an Aston Martin DB4, an E-type in racing strip, a Lotus Elan, even a McLaren F1 and more enviable jalopies. One patron has 17 Ferraris sitting in his driveway. It may sound overly flash but, curiously, it seems to fit in with the character and the historic nature of the pub.
That said, the pub itself is the true highlight. It is now very much a changed place from half a century ago, when I evacuated my first cider there, but, despite the salubrious dining rooms and ensuite bedrooms, it still remains, at its core, a fine, authentic boozer, especially so when tucked away from the madding crowd, ensconced in the original public bar where the natives congregate.
As has been often said, the nature of a good pub descends downwards from the character of the governor and here is no exception. Craig, owner and landlord, an escapee from the City himself, grew up in his mother’s East-end pub so he certainly knows the business, even though the Chims is quite a different beast. While having the good sense to keep in the shadows, or at least the gloom of the back bar, with his regular chums, he is quite content to leave the front of house to his lovely and loyal staff while still being omnipresent. Having crafted the place, over the last quarter century, in his own light, there is no doubt that the place is an extension of his body and soul and a very descent soul he is. Just respect that though. He does not suffer fools lightly.
See you in the public bar. Mine’s an imperial pint of Biddenden.
The Three Chimneys
Hareplain Rd, Biddenden, Kent TN27 8LW