Northwest of Sheffield, just at the point where the A61 bends away from Barnsley and out toward the Peak District, there is the worrying little village of Worsbrough. Worrying, that is, because in the brewery-rich area of Barnsley, famous for the endearing Barnsley Brewery amongst others, this village at first glance seems to have virtually no pubs! We were out for a badly-needed short afternoon excursion, looking forward to a stop for one revitalising pint before re-entering the rush hour traffic on Sheffield's Penistone road...and we were definitely feeling a bit anxious. We passed a social club or two...but we were seriously wondering what strange hostile world we had entered, where no comforting pub signs beckoned. Finally, just as we reached the outer limits and were about to drive off the end of the great turtle of the world, we saw it: the Button Mill Inn. Ah, yes, there is a God...

Situated next to the shady Worsbrough Country Park, this former coaching inn is primarily a food pub, featuring one of those fru-fru menus proudly announcing creations by obviously cloned Chefs Matt and Matthew. But the bar did have three handpumps featuring Tetley, John Smith Cask, and John Smith Magnet. Our pints of Tetley (3.7% ABV, Carlsberg-Tetley Brewing Co., Leeds, West Yorkshire) and John Smith Bitter (3.8% ABV, John Smith Brewery, Tadcaster, North Yorkshire) weren't brilliant but they were drinkable. Both pints were obviously watered down: the John Smith was light coloured, which it shouldn't be (it's actually a nice dark beer).

Even though the effervescent barmaid -- in her urgent zest to cheer the rest of the days of our lives -- ended up splashing beer all over my companion's trousers, we decided to go ahead and risk ordering sandwiches. The food's not bad -- not brilliant, mind you, but the salads were thoughtful. My veggie cheeseburger was served on "siabatta", (pronounced "SEE-YA-BATTA" by the barmaid) which looked suspiciously like a bap to me. (Obviously "siabatta" is different from ciabatta, which is a nice chewy country-style Italian bread very popular in Britain, and which has been scientifically proven to surpass all other bread forms as the best slurper-upper of extra virgin olive oil.) As we dined we perused the main menu where every dish seemed to be "enhanced" with something. Why do restaurants strive to impress you with their artistic descriptions when the food should speak for itself? Ah, well...perhaps Matt and Matthew should have been interior designers instead...

So was the Button Mill Inn once an actual button factory? This part of Britain was a big textile manufacturing area in the 18th and 19th centuries. To the north Leeds was the foremost wool and textile town in 18th century Yorkshire, and to the west Manchester was famous for cotton. This all started when Flemish weavers arrived in Manchester in 1363; by the 1700s wool and linen production had become the important local industry. And then, of course, by the twentieth century the industry had diminished thanks to competition from the US and Japan. But still it's nice to imagine this old button mill, with button workers working day and night to produce buttons of all designs and sizes, and all number of holes. At least that's what I like to imagine...I can't guarantee the accuracy of my vision.

The Button Mill Inn also features accommodation, but I suspect the pub's rather atrocious ambient music would eventually drive you out the doors screaming if you had to spend more than an hour here. But I suppose that's just my taste. To each her own...

Five miles north of Sheffield off the A629 is the amusingly named village of Penistone. (Sorry to disappoint my American friends -- it's pronounced PENNIS-ton.) South of Penistone is the village of Cubley, where Cubley Hall is located. We found this place during a drive in the country on a warm sunny Saturday. Looking through our CAMRA guide and selecting the only pub listed in the area we were expecting your typical small village inn. But Cubley Hall is massive, consisting of several buildings on beautiful grounds. The location started life as a farm on the Pennine packhorse route of the 1700s. After being a gentleman's residence in Victorian times and then a post-war children's home it became a free house in 1983. In 1990 the oak-beamed and slate-floored barn was converted into a restaurant, and in 1996 accommodation was added with 12 ensuite bedrooms.

Dressed in our summer casuals we were feeling a bit intimated as we approached the entrance, expecting something posh. But it's not posh at all, simply expansive, and on this weekend lunchtime the rooms were packed with people. As soon as we sat and ordered our pints Andrew suddenly remembered a Jonathan Meades review of this place. Mmmm, we thought: what sort of heavenly lunch are we about to experience? The menu was quite gorgeous and enticing, but sadly my pizza wasn't brilliant. But we did enjoy our pints of Jennings Cumberland Ale (4% ABV, Jennings Bros., Cockermouth, Cumbria). This reminds me of a southern beer, even though it's from Cumbria. It features a somewhat fizzy flavour but a pleasant midrange bitter rounding off into a full body, and it's the colour of aged polished brass -- but without any of that green stuff. No rubbing with Brasso needed...

When you're finished with lunch and pints, the grounds of Cubley Hall offer pleasant views of the countryside: hills, dales, cows, and more cows. What more could you want on a sunny weekend day, except perhaps for a few sheep?