The little hamlet of Cheriton has it all. A picturesque village green with a stream that’s straight out of Midsomer Murders, a post office that’s open two days a week and a pub that’s open seven days a week and has its own brewery.

Yes, there’s no danger of the beer deliveries not getting through at The Flower Pots Inn, as there’s barely 50 yards between the point where the golden liquid is produced and where it’s drunk.

Not that you’d know there was anything industrial going on. The brewery looks more barn than factory and the pub itself has the appearance of a rural rectory, with a neat little front porch and green wooden door. Once inside, you can turn left for the funny little saloon bar (carpets, suburban sofa) or right for the bigger public bar (brick walls, tiled floors).

There’s a choice of three own-brew ales, and, like the many walkers who stop by, the barrels containing the beers are clad in little padded anoraks to keep them at the right temperature. There’s the gentle Four Candles (3.5 per cent abv), the slightly perkier Flower Pots Bitter (3.8 per cent) and the fruitily forceful Gooden’s Gold (4.8 per cent).

The staff don’t go in for elaborate descriptions of the beers here, letting the many framed awards on the wall do the talking for them. Asked what the Four Candles is like, the barman says simply: “Nice.”

The food is similarly frill-free, mainly baps and baked potatoes, plus a series of homely £6.80 hotpots (lamb and apricot recommended), served with crusty bread the size of a medieval manacle. On a cold day, you sit and drink inside (cosy, by the fire), but when the weather’s warm you can venture out into the garden and sit at one of several pretty tree-shaded tables in the garden.

From here you can look across open rolling countryside, or turn around and watch men hard at work, stacking heavy silver barrels in the brewery yard. Either way, there’s nothing finer.
— Christopher Middleton, Daily Telegraph