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Just over a year ago, a pub launched that has subsequently become Britain's most sought-after watering hole. The preparation, pressures, unexpected developments and all other aspects involved in establishing The Farmer's Dog were captured in the enormously successful Clarkson's Farm programme on Amazon Prime Video.
The programme is an absolute delight. It's amusing, touching, captivating and educational, presenting its main attraction, Jeremy Clarkson, in a fresh perspective compared to what many viewers might recognise from Top Gear, The Grand Tour and newspaper pieces.
A significant portion of the four series to date (with a fifth in production) concentrated on Clarkson's attempts to launch a restaurant at his farm, Diddly Squat, where he could offer the meat and produce grown by his own operation, along with neighbouring farms. Exasperated by opposition from local authorities and residents, Clarkson abandoned that dream and "thought instead of building a restaurant we would buy a pub".
The outcome was The Farmer's Dog, which launched in late August 2024 approximately 10 miles south of the farm beside the A40 as it meanders through the Oxfordshire countryside.
One aspect that genuinely appeared to irritate council representatives and certain neighbours of Clarkson's original farm shop was the enormous volume of visitors, jamming the local roads and parking on grass verges. Therefore, I anticipated it would be heaving when I called in for Sunday lunch earlier this summer, reports the Express.
However, I wasn't anticipating this spectacle.
It rivalled some music festivals in scale, complete with a comprehensive security and parking operation directing arrivals into a massive field already containing hundreds upon hundreds of vehicles.
Visitors moved like ants in formation between the car park and the pub.
The astonished "bloody hell!" I overheard from a fellow visitor perfectly captured the entire scene.
Travelling through the stunning, tranquil Cotswolds, I'd assumed that having secured a lunch booking without much difficulty several weeks prior via the pub's website, it would be a peaceful experience.
After all, surely only a limited number of people can squeeze into a pub, correct?
Incorrect.
The initial indicators that we weren't simply visiting your typical local establishment for Sunday lunch emerged a few hundred metres from our destination when the traffic tailbacks began.
High-visibility stewards guided us to a neighbouring field where, despite the crowds, we secured parking without trouble.
Once stationed, it was a brief stroll across the road to the pub.
Arriving at midday, we encountered people heading in the opposite direction clutching boxes of the now renowned Hawkstone lager.
People were absolutely everywhere.
Scores of individuals queued to enter the pub (no need to wait if you've got a reservation, and I was struck that there was a staff member specifically assigned to locating those of us who had bookings and escorting us to the front).
Presumably, those waiting without reservations were hoping to secure a table, grab a pint, or snap a quick photograph. We arrived an hour before our lunch booking, so we explored the expansive shop, outdoor bar and sprawling beer garden behind the establishment.
We joined thousands of other visitors basking in brilliant sunshine on wooden benches or sprawled across the grass, savouring pints of Hawkstone whilst taking in the stunning vistas across the Cotswolds countryside that has so captivated the proprietor himself.
The retail outlet stocks the brewery's offerings (lager, stout, IPA and cider) in cases and gift sets, alongside preserves, marmalades, honey, candles, branded clothing and features a butcher's counter as well. I departed with a case of lager (£28 for 12 bottles) and a £12 pot of honey produced by the bees at Diddly Squat Farm.
Minutes before our 1pm dining reservation, we returned to the pub's entrance where staff promptly directed us inside to locate a chap named John ("he looks like me but he's bald and he loves Welsh people", remarked the fellow who detected my accent).
The bald gentleman was spotted without difficulty, and he escorted us to our table - arguably the finest spot in the establishment, nestled privately in a cosy nook beside the glass doors opening onto the expansive outdoor terrace. This prime position afforded us views of the entire interior whilst also providing the fresh air and natural light from outside.
Absolutely ideal. Much like Clarkson does on his well-loved Amazon Prime show (I was now beginning to grasp just how popular it truly is), the pub is eager to flaunt its credentials as a supporter of local farms.
A blackboard on the wall lists local farmers Vanessa Hartley and Nick Sinden, as well as Rectory Farm, as suppliers.
We opted for a pint of the Hawkstone Black stout (£7) and a half of the Hawkstone lager (£3.50). They're splendid beverages and we sat awaiting our food whilst observing staff bustling through the busy pub, ferrying plates heaped with appetising Sunday roasts and sidestepping dogs lounging at their owners' feet.
There was a pianist serenading from a grand piano by the entrance, a constant queue at the bar for a pint and a feel-good hum permeating the entire place - everyone appeared ecstatic to be here, myself included.
My starter of cold-smoked Bibury trout (£11.50) was superb - generous, thick slices of trout bursting with flavour and possibly surpassing any smoked salmon I've ever tasted. Having visited the Bibury trout farm a short drive away just two days prior, it somehow enhanced the taste, as did the accompanying horseradish cream and watercress salad.
I opted for the two-meat main course featuring beef and pork (£26), which were the only two meat choices available. It was served with whole roasted potatoes (which were fantastic), roasted carrots and parsnips, spring greens, red cabbage, cauliflower cheese, Yorkshire pudding and gravy made from the stout I was sipping.
Distinguishing one well-executed Sunday roast from another can be a challenge, so I won't attempt to do so. This one was generous, flavoursome and largely impeccable (though I could have done with a bit more of the scrumptious gravy).
The one-meat option was £2 less expensive, and there was a vegetarian choice of Wye Valley asparagus with pea pearl barley and a poached egg. Vegans might struggle here, which could even be intentional on Clarkson's part.
We were both too stuffed for dessert, but we did spot an Eton mess (£10.50) and poached rhubarb crumble cake with Cotswolds ice cream (£10.50) being whisked past. Both appeared delightful.
Within an hour, we had pretty much finished our food, and the bill for two main courses, one starter and two drinks totalled £80 (including service). Before departing, I wanted to absorb a bit more of the venue's atmosphere, so I took a peek upstairs (which was also packed, naturally) and noticed the full-size tractor suspended from the ceiling above the pianist, which I'd somehow overlooked upon entering.
I've often spoken about the bustling atmosphere at the pub (and the entire site), a phenomenon created by Jeremy Clarkson and Amazon Prime. However, don't let that deter you.
The wait for the car park was minimal, just a few minutes at most, and that was the only queue we encountered. Thanks to our reservation, we breezed through the front door without delay, and there was no need to queue at the shop for our beer and honey either.
My lasting impression of the large crowd was the sheer joy everyone felt being there. If you fancy a pint (indoors or outdoors) or something from the butcher, be prepared for a bit of a queue, but that's about it.
Initially, I questioned whether I should feel guilty for being part of the throng invading what was likely a tranquil and unnoticed corner of Oxfordshire a year ago. However, reports suggest that most locals are pleased with the pub's presence, so any guilt quickly dissipated.
I'm delighted I made the trip and will cherish the memory. Pubs aren't just about the grub; they're about the feelings they evoke.
And I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of this journey. Had it been pouring down rain, my sentiments might differ - but that's just typical British weather, isn't it?