We went to the Phoenix for our Sunday lunch a few months ago, excellent food and staff, couldn't have asked for better, the food was hot, well presented and huge platefulls. The desserts were great too.
Since then we have been back a few times, and shall continue to. I can just imagine the roaring fires on a winters day.
When the curtains are closed and night has folded in, to spend an evening in Fagans is to be transported back to a Sheffield long gone. Years of nicotine have stained the ceiling dirty yellow; the wood-panelled walls would be considered ironic in certain po-faced quarters and the accumulated clutter behind the bar is a wonder to behold. Yet those pitiful souls unacquainted with this gem must not mistake Fagans for some dive. On a Friday and Saturday night it heaves with life, a joyous commixture of working-class intellectuals, musicians and authors. In the corner discussing Wednesday is a voice from the BBC, Richard Hawley holds court in the snug, behind the bar landlord Tom is a mine of knowledge, wife Barbara always rapid with withering wit and the backroom overflows with the sound of drums and plucked string.
A Saturday lunchtime spent devouring Tom's staggeringly good home-made dishes with a pint or two of Moonshine is a treat. Sunday lunches need to be ordered in advance such is the demand, but there is always the choice of a cow-pie so vast even Dan himself would struggle in vain, or maybe an ocean of stew in a bowl from the impressively composed menu for the less organised.
One day fortune will vomit on our eiderdown and a desiccated soul with Microsoft Excel in their veins will decree Fagans must make way for another executive living development, or maybe Tom and Barbara will retire and the books and the thumbed copies of Private Eye and the postcards and the chewed pens and the dust and wonky picture of a Spitfire will be replaced by a facsimile of authenticity. An "Oirish" slogan will be painted on the wall, next to a small wheelbarrow nailed there for no apparent reason and everything that made Fagans special will be lost forever.
Good location, nice surroundings and reasonably priced meals.
The floor and bar staff are obviously very young but very helpful and appear to be "run off their feet" by a tyrant of a manageress!
During a recent evening there, I had no sooner put down my knife and fork when this manageress screamed at a young girl to clear the table! The girl was visibly upset and embarrassed by this order and both myself and other customers felt this embarrassment too.
Surely a simple gesture would have sufficed. This is clearly a person who has a "power thing" over these young staff.
I certainly won't be going there for some time, especially if this person remains the manageress! Shame really, because with the correct training for these young staff, it would be a great place!
This is by far the worst pub I have ever been to! The staff have little or no respect for the customers. The manager is never around to answer questions personally. And the quality of the food and drink is poor to say the least. How this pub is still running I have no idea!
Tried to take 6 students who were doing a presentation for my company in to this pub at 12PM. All were wearing suits as I was. The attitude of the "punk" on the door was a credit to the early rock culture, I was surprised he didn't spit! The girl he was chatting to was more interesting than the 7 clients. He told us to wait 4 hours until he let us in or until it was 12pm by his phone. We humoured him for 4 minutes whilst we stood outside talking.
In the end we went down the road for 7 meals and 7 rounds and had a great time! I as a 50+ customer in smart attire do not expect to be treated as a low life idiot, by a throw back punk with an attitude as backward as the hair cut.
Great way to introduce Sheffield to a visitor and embarrass 6 regulars well done.
Andy, from The Cobden View at Crookes will be running the business for Sam & Simon who have moved on to other things, down South.
I am sure the original atmosphere will be re-captured if the Cobden View is anything to go by, where you never get served an off pint, there is always a wide selection of beers. There won't be a chance of the Red Deer running out of beer again if its run like the Cobden.
I am sure we will see changes pretty soon, and I look forward to visiting it again!
Food was OK. Manager was helpful, but some of the young staff were rude, unhelpful and surly, and certainly need some training in customer-care! They also need to do a stock-check more often - various condiments, including salt (somewhat basic!), not available when we asked.
Mint ice-cream bombe delivered instead of the ordered chocolate one. Explanation as it was banged down on the table? "That's all we've got".
Will we go again to Rawson Spring? Well, not to eat, anyway. I'd rather try other Wetherspoon's in Sheffield. It's a pity, because the pub is OK, but friendly and helpful staff would make it a much more pleasant venue.
This pub used to be really excellent, with warm friendly lighting, and is still good in terms of the real ales, comfortable settees, wooden panels, and beer garden.
However, recently some changes have been made that are clearly a step in the wrong direction.
When last I visited (2 weeks ago) it had changed in a most unpleasant manner. The lighting was bright and harsh blue-ish white in colour, reminiscent of a police line up.
We did find one snug bit in a corner and sat down, only to find a gigantic TV screen descending onto our heads.
It's such a shame to see a beautiful old-fashioned pub like this being turned into yet another noisy sports pub with tasteless lighting and bright white walls.
I can see that there is a laudable attempt to use low energy lighting, but I would suggest to the owners that they might invest in some lampshades to mute this harsh colour. Fluorescent lighting has no charm at all.