ty thatched villages surrounding
Newmarket. Some change their
names, others change landlords,
and most change menus, but
none of those accusations can
be levelled at The Old Plough, an
18th Century hostelry in Ashley,
just a short taxi ride from both
racecourses and from Tattersalls.
This spring sees landlord Tony
Keen celebrate his 30th anniver-
sary at the pub which has become
a perennial favourite of the rac-
ing and sales crowd. Tony and his
wife Gina are as much standing
dishes as the offerings on their
menu, which is devoid of preten-
sion but fulsome in both range
and portion size.
Tony thrives on curmudgeonly
banter with his many regulars. As
our party stumbles through the
door, he greets fellow long-term
Newmarket resident Tony Morris
with the words, "Oh, you're still
alive then, Anthony," but his Ba-
sil Fawlty leanings end there and
he is a charming and attentive
host, particularly good at offer-
ing notes on the extensive wine
list.
My advice to anyone planning
an evening at the 'Plough' would
be to fast for a week beforehand.
I generally arrive full of the good
intention of not having a starter
so as to enjoy properly the vast––
and I mean vast––main course,
