Starch Specialists
Propping up the monarchy at the Royal Falconer
By: Bill Gerdes
If you go to the Falconer for just the boozing, though, you may be missing out—they serve up some mean English pub food, too. Like their appetizers—just reading them off the menu makes you feel like you’re in Britain, minus the drunken hooligans screaming at Chelsea or Manchester United on the telly. Try the Scotch Eggs, hard-boiled and enveloped in a breaded sausage shell, with tangy mustard on the side. (Can you think of anything better to eat after your third Bass Ale?) The Falconer also has the requisite chips and vinegar, as well as a mouth-numbing version slathered in curry, but the ultimate starter may be the Irish Nachos—French fries smothered in Swiss and cheddar cheese, chives, sour cream and salsa.
Another option are the burgers—not particularly British, but tasty nonetheless. The ground sirloin burger is gigantic, a hunk of beef that’s worth breaking out the knife and fork for. The Blue Cheese burger awaits those of you who want their burger covered in salad dressing. Speaking of, they also serve salads—but why would you want to get a salad?
For an entrée, I ordered the Sheppard’s Pie, which comes with soup or salad. I went for the leek and potato soup—sweet and creamy, it also had chunks of sausage (though it arrived at my table lukewarm). The Sheppard’s Pie itself was almost a monument to starch—with two-thirds of it sculpted from mashed potatoes, it’s great rib-sticking stuff, and at the end, you’re rewarded with a layer of beef, carrots and peas. Mix the layers together, and you’re in pub food nirvana (even better—or worse, if you’re a nutritionist—the pie also comes with fries).
Despite also ingesting a pile of tasty vegetables, I acquired a starch buzz by the time I was finished. But there were plenty of people around me with a more pleasurable form of intoxication going on. The Falconer is a nice place to kick it with some friends and have a drink or six, offering up a fully-stocked bar, with 10 beers on tap, two ales, and over 20 bottled ones, with a heavy emphasis on (natch) British and Irish varieties. They also have some decent wines, but I suppose I feel the same way about drinking vino here that I do about eating salads—why have wine when there’s all that sweet, delicious beer?
Whether you’re dining, drinking, or both, just sidle over to one of their King Arthur-sized tables, grab a plate of fish and chips and a brew, and unwind. You may even meet some drunken hooligans, but homegrown ones screaming at the Lakers, Raiders or Chargers.
The Royal Falconer, 4281 Main St., Riverside, (951) 684-4281; www.myspace.com/royalfalconer. Also at 106 Orange St., Redlands, (909) 307-8913.
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