On the warmest day of the week, which was only about 14 degrees in February, I spent a day with my sister-in-law in Shakespeare’s (and it truly only feels like his) Stratford-upon-Avon. Sure, as a new driver the motorway route was daunting but once I made it, safely parked and stepped out into the breezy sunshine, I set out to search for a place to sit for a coffee and a pastry. Little do you know, I already had a small itinerary made the night before. 

It was around 11 in the morning, so after strolling through the town and past Shakespeare standing tall and proud over everyone, we went into The Cornish Bakery. A blue and wooden little cafe, where dogs bathed in the morning sun outside, and the walls were softly decorated with landscape illustrations. As with any cafe, you smell the coffee beans and the sweetness of all the pastries laid out behind the glass displays. Our eyes immediately went for the chocolate torsade – which I just call a chocolate twist – an iced chocolate for me and a cappuccino for my sister-in-law. I was feeling a bit rogue and decided to go against coffee. 

The torsade was wonderfully crisped on the outside, with a sweet custard filling mixed with chocolate chips. It didn’t flake all over your fingers and lap like many pastries tend to, and there was a lovely dusting of icing sugar over it. It wasn’t overly sweet, but a great balance between the cream and chocolate, which went well with my iced chocolate. I didn’t know what to expect for a menu item called iced chocolate, perhaps the polar opposite of hot chocolate. But, for those who might be familiar, it tasted a lot like a Milo Dino. A Malaysian/Singaporean iced drink made from chocolate Milo, topped generously with the powder. Always the trick when eating a pastry and a coffee/chocolate drink is to sip and eat leisurely, combining rather than one at a time. The iced chocolate also wasn’t sickeningly sweet, and worked well with the torsade.

We spent a baffling hour there, until we realised we came here to stroll like tourists rather than sit and chat about our days cooped in a cosy, blue cafe. What’s so wonderful about Stratford is the variety of food options you have to choose from. There are names and places you won’t recognise, and then a high street with main-name restaurants and cafes that feel familiar. In the square is where the gems lie, from the moody pubs where you might spot actors from the plays after their shows, The Courtyard where on a previous trip a few friends and I ate hot sandwiches at the tea room and gazed in awe at the vintage brooches and sequined hats at Razzle and Dazzle.

This time around, after taking pictures in front of Will’s birthplace and nipping into SJ Records for an armful of music, we decided to get lunch at the Garrick. The menu boasts about it being the oldest pub in town, where ghosts may or may not linger around the yellow lamps and half-timbered exterior, and a rather solemn-looking bust of William himself that looked the other way as we ordered at the bar. The ceilings are delightfully low (not enough to hit your head, even if you are over six foot), which for me is telling of how old a pub is. Completely Elizabethan, all dark wood and tavern-like light. If only they served a tankard of mead. For a drink, I stuck with an iced glass of Old Mout, pineapple and raspberry, which was crisp and sweet, whilst my sister-in-law indulged in a Sauvignon Blanc. I ordered a chicken kyiv that came with seasoned fries and dressed salad, whilst she got a chicken and bacon sandwich with rocket and pickled red onion.

The chicken kyiv was glorious. You get two, generously breaded crisped breasts, beautifully savoury on the inside, with the melting of garlic and herb butter. A forkful of that with a dab of ketchup and salad was a perfect bite, followed swiftly by a golden, house seasoned fry, which seemed to be a mix of cajun and garlic. The sandwich had smoked bacon, chicken breast, mayo and lettuce, which you can choose to bite into on its own, or follow after with some rocket and onion. It was light and easy, with a choice of either ciabatta or white bloomer – she decided to go for the bloomer – and of course with some house-seasoned fries. It was a satisfying lunch after hours of chattering with the record store owners and walking around the cobblestone streets.

It was quiet that afternoon, another snoozing dog by its owner near the bar, a hum of soft chatter, a wall of fairy lights for photographs. We were there for a while nursing our drinks, before the afternoon grew into evening and we ended the day strolling around the canals, where in the summer there would be ice cream trucks all over. This time, musicians busked as the sun dipped and we claimed a bench to watch the swans glide through the water, whilst geese noisily picked at breadcrumbs on the paths. It was a delight. 

No matter how walkable Stratford is, every time I’ve been, I end up discovering something new. A quiet pub nestled away into a corner, a restaurant with homely sandwiches, Shakespeare motifs everywhere, on the street signs and plaques and benches. If you ever do get a chance for a day trip or a weekend break, I can’t suggest it enough. Even better if you’re a Shakespeare nerd, but if not, maybe the swans in the canals may sway you. Or the chicken kyiv. 

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