I had measles during this time, itself a condition that can lead a child’s mind into a disconnection from the reality around him. My mother tells me I was laid up for a few days, but what I remember, or think I remember, is the event that marked my recovery. I was finally deemed able to consume something other than sick food, and was presented with a steak and kidney pie. I expect that if she had known the effect the choice of real-food dish would have on a child just out of his sickbed, how the rich aroma of run-of-the-mill fare could heighten perception, after days of boiled vegetables and weak soup, to establish an enduring, lifelong association between this dish, emblematic of the country we were temporarily in, and recovery to good health and spirits, my mother would have served me something from our own culture, thereby possibly keeping her son from being afflicted with Anglophilia. Fortunately, the aforementioned overly analytical and rational adult mind has since recovered from this condition, but steak and kidney pie is still evocative of a time that, through misty memory, seems halcyon and carefree.

B and I (and if I’m a recovered Anglophile B is an incorrigible one, readers should be warned) ate out at Sherlock’s Home this week, an authentic English pub and restaurant in a western suburb of Minneapolis. It’s authentic to the extent of having imported fittings and furnishings from Great Britain, down to fine china from Stoke-on-Trent and official measure pint glasses.

We ate in the pub area, but the restaurant menu is available there as well. The "bill of fare" is quite extensive, with pastas, pizzas, burgers, salads, plus an array of hot and cold starters and several specials. Fortunately the authenticity does not extend to limiting the offerings to traditional pub fare, but there is a separate section of the menu titled "Taste of Britain." Choices here include shepherd’s pie, ploughman’s lunch, bangers and mash, fish and chips, Cornish beef pasty, and curried lamb with pappadums (if ever there was an argument needed as to how immigrant communities have made a positive contribution to England, the immeasurable improvement to the cuisine would settle the matter). For diners seeking other British fare, the starters include Scotch eggs, toad in the hole, and seafood kedgeree.

Also available is steak and kidney pie, the recipe for which comes from "London’s famous restaurant, Simpson’s in the Strand." At the risk of corrupting a favorable memory I ordered it. I thought it very good, as it turned out (or should that have been "predictably"?), with a flaky crust on top and a sweet-and-spicy, meaty filling with chunks of beef taking preponderance over pieces of kidney. The pie came with vegetables and potatoes, the former nicely crisp but the latter underdone.

Sherlock’s brews its own beer. Four cask-conditioned ales, a bitter, a Scottish ale, a porter, and a stout, and three "export-style" beers, an India pale ale, an English-style lager, and a light beer made from barley and wheat malt, are available. The beer list asserts that the ales must be served at 52˚ F, the beers at 38. A full bar provides for other libations. I ordered the bitter and liked its creamy consistency and hoppy flavor.

Substantial though our entrees were, we decided to have dessert, ordering a seasonal special, traditional English plum pudding that is made on premises. Think of it as a warmed fruitcake and you get the idea, although the comparison is a little unfair to the pudding—the generous walnuts in it, the hint of cloves, and the "hard sauce" (sugary brandy butter) accompaniment made this quite palatable. It was very rich, however, and even though B and I split one order we couldn’t finish it.

The atmosphere in the pub is very English, given that so much of the décor is imported. At this time of year the place was imbued with the Christmas spirit. Poinsettias and wreaths bedecked the windows and furnishings and quite a few groups were out for their holiday lunch, exchanging gifts and having a merry time.

In previous outings to Sherlock’s I’ve generally found the food to be mediocre, but this time the place gets a favorable rating. It could be the Christmas spirit or the reacquaintance with my madeleine.

Christmas—to me, in any case—is a very Victorian (or at least Dickensian) holiday and Sherlock’s is decked out in traditional decorations: poinsettias and wreaths are attractively displayed; the only thing missing is a caroling group of young street urchins. Bob Crotchet—if only Scrooge had paid him a bit better—might have stopped here on Christmas Eve for a quick half before going home to Tiny Tim. Sherlock’s is designed as an English public house, but unlike most Pubs in England quite a bit of real estate is devoted to a full service restaurant. The punters (customers to us Americans) at Sherlock’s have a choice of a full menu on the bar side as well. Everything in the bar, from the furnishing to the pint glasses is imported from old Blighty. The walls have intriguing posters from old Basil Rathbone movies. Jugs and drinking mugs depicting various English themes are placed upon a ledge that skirts the length of the bar. Even the carpeting looks like something an old Major might have carried back from India in his steamer trunk. The bar itself is fabulous – made of burnished wood and polished to perfection.

Before I get to the menu let me add that I am no great fan of English cuisine. Boiled vegetables, lumps of meat, followed by spotted dick leaves me cold; however, there are few traditional English dishes that are very good: Fish & Chips, Shepherd’s Pie, Yorkshire Pudding and Steak & Kidney Pie. Thankfully these dishes (Yorkshire pudding is surprise omission) are found on the lunch menu along with lighter fare such as salads and the putative Ploughman’s Lunch. There is some exotica on the menu as well – forays into the colonial kitchen one would assume, for such delights as Lamb curry with Pappadums. There are, of course, other dishes that have been added for the American palate: Pizza, California Wrap and chicken wings.

In England breweries mostly own public houses basically as an outlet for their products. In Minnetonka Sherlock’s Home proudly brews its own English style beers. The menu, intriguingly, offers a drink called "Winter Warmer", this is ale that was brewed last summer (we are told) but alas is only available after 3:00 PM. The menu also tells us that this is the only brewery in North America to serve cask-conditioned ale directly from wood, whatever that means. I chose the lightest beer on tap, a pint of Queen Anne’s light, almost watery in its consistency, but yet with more flavor than most light beers we’re used to. I ordered the Shepherd’s Pie, which—if memory serves has mashed potatoes on top of hamburger—had mashed potatoes covering beef tips and was very good. The beef tips were cooked to perfection and had good flavor. Boiled vegetables accompanied the dish but again their taste and crispness pleasantly surprised me. A ordered the Steak & Kidney pie, from which he gave me a taste, I am ashamed to admit that my (unnatural) fear of eating kidney kept me from trying it and it sat untouched on my plate. As a special dessert of the season Sherlock’s is offering a Christmas Plum Pudding. We decided to share an order of this fruit cake like dessert that Brits consume, after having drunk (and eaten) their way through a large Christmas dinner, while watching the Queen’s Christmas address, hoping to not swallow the coins that some people put in it. Plums are in reality raisins and the dessert is sinfully rich, it comes with a spicy liquor sauce. We were not able to do justice to it and it remained unfinished. The bill came to $33.00.

Sherlock’s was a pleasant surprise for lunch. I haven’t eaten here in a few years and my memory of my previous experience is hazy – I have been here for drinks on any number of occasion and would recommend it as an after work spot. But to get the mood right I suggest you read Priestley’s Angel Pavement and come in one evening, shake the cold from your shoulders and sit at the bar with a locally brewed ale, it’s not Bradford but it’s the best you can do in Minnetonka.