The Dog & Gun Inn, Long Lane, Aughton

Oct 26 2007 by Jane Gallagher, Liverpool Daily Post

Exactly as she imagined: Jane Gallagher covers some old ground

MY FIRST job as a reporter was covering a sprawling patch of West Lancashire. In those early days I couldn’t afford my own transport and was forced to borrow the newspaper van to take me from parish council to parochial dispute.

Eventually I saved enough to buy my own car, a shiny brown mini with alloy wheels and a racy leather steering wheel.

STU (named after the first three letters of the registration plate) and I travelled for miles around the country lanes in our quest to uncover the big stories of the day.

Stu and I had some great times together but when it came to entertainment he had a one-track mind. The cassette player didn’t work and the ancient radio could only receive one channel, Radio Four.

And strangely for a 20-something who longed for the bright lights and the big city, I developed a strong affection for the channel. The everyday events of The Archers suddenly made more sense when I was working in a rural community. I can’t say the shipping forecast had the same effect, but one surprise was Gardener’s Question Time on a Friday.

It may have had something to do with the fact that it marked the end of the working week but I would listen intently as I drove to reveal scandalous stories such as the sabotage of a prize pumpkin.

One show I clearly remember listening to was a question about where the most fertile soil in the country was located.

The answer was unequivocal: “Ormskirk and surrounding areas. The soil is black and the produce tastes like no other,” said the grizzled gardener.

That memory had been filed away and forgotten about until a few weeks ago when a colleague told me about a pub he had just visited in Aughton where the chef insists on using only local produce.

He named the pub and I remember it well from those years Stu and I trundled past.

The Dog and Gun is located on a long, leafy lane which leads out from the more populated area of Aughton and into the countryside beyond. Outside, a plethora of planted boxes and colourful hanging baskets catch the eye.

And once inside it is entirely as you imagine.

Photographs of yesteryear adorn the walls, tables and stools are neatly arranged in convivial groups and in the far corner, a period fireplace complete with roaring log fire. Original rather than authentic.

The “authentic” pubs I have frequented recently seem to have a formula. The more they spend on the refurbishment, the less they have to spend on food.

Strangely for a pub which I am told has a passion for good food, the eating hours are brief. Meals are served between 12pm and 8pm and we only just made it.

I was initially disappointed when I saw the chalkboard specials, as not one was a vegetarian dish. My husband, a committed carnivore, was delighted.

Seeing my disappointment, the barman offered me a black, bound book which contained another menu which had not one but four vegetarian alternatives on offer. But, as is our normal routine, we spent one drink (a pint of pedigree bitter for my husband and a glass of spicy Merlot for me) choosing our meal as we thawed out by the fire.

I finally decided on a Greek salad starter (£3.45) and my husband, a black pudding (also £3.45).

My starter comprised a crispy helping of iceberg lettuce with big squares of creamy feta cheese, cucumbers and tomatoes with slivers of onion and a generous dollop of green and black olives. It was accompanied by two small jugs, one of olive oil, the other of red wine vinegar. Crisp and clean, my palette was fresh and ready for the next course.