The Sloop is like the singer Madonna. Old, cheap, inexplicably popular, and always reinventing itself. Every once in a while The Sloop seems to think that people have stopped paying attention, and decides to sell up; reopening in a new guise. Matt and Cat first visited the Sloop in 2007 after a refurbishment, and again in May 2008. By October 2008 another relaunch had occurred, and M & C visited again. All three reviews can be seen here - the older ones are down the page.

October 2008 review
The brash new Sloop makes no apologies for selling its main attraction. Gone are the long menus and pretensions of sophistication - the Sloop is now a carvery selling meals at £3.50!!! Yes!!! Loud signs along the roadside scream £3.50!!! at passers-by until only the most dull-witted would not get the message that they should go there, immediately, and eat meat. So Matt and Cat decided to follow the herd. Sniffing loftily and remembering some previous underwhelming carvery experiences they consoled themselves with the prospect of sharing their derision with their readers. After all, you can pay more than £3.50 for a glass of wine - how good could a £3.50 carvery actually be?

Review continues:

Rolling up early on a mild Tuesday lunchtime in October, Matt and Cat were amazed that there was nowhere to park. Remarkable! Had the cars disgorged all their occupants into the Sloop? So it transpired. After parking up the estuary, allowing a delightful short walk along the bank, M & C strolled into the pub to find it teeming with customers. Previous, but limited, visits to a carvery suggested to Matt and Cat that their demographic was retirees on a budget. The Sloop was not, as anticipated, bursting with Third Agers, but a representative cross-section of the Isle of Wight (that'd still be mainly oldsters then!). Still, as carveries are known as 'school dinners for pensioners' this was not unexpected.

Although there was nobody on hand to seat Matt and Cat, or offer instructions, they found a table by the simple tactic of standing around until somebody got up. Matt was just drawing breath to start a big moan about how the table was dirty when a cheery young lad with a dishcloth arrived and cleaned the table, chatting chirpily as he did so. Meanwhile, Cat had visited the bar, bought two tickets for the carvery, and obtained two drinks - water and ice, cost £0. This entire experience was going to cost £7, no less and no more.

The Sloop looked strangely familiar - it was still very gloomy with a range of little tables in split-level 'rooms'. However, a radiant carvery in the centre of the pub now exuded heat and light like the surface of the sun, drawing all to its incandescence. For frankly, although there were a few token non-carvery items on the menu (including a veggie option at extra cost) if you come in the Sloop these days you'd better like eating carvery food, because that's the biggest game in town.

Approaching the carvery like supplicants to the altar, M & C were handed big plates on sturdy wooden trenchers; a clever way to avoid the usual burnt-hands scenario. The servery bore a hunk of gammon, a vast turkey, and a slab of beef. All were sizzling-hot and swiftly dispensed to the waiting line by the flashing knives of the carvery chef. As Cat approached the front the turkey was apparently running low. The chatty lady with the knives explained "we'll have to wait for a new one - it's too big for me to carry!" So it proved, as the new bird was brought forth by a powerful young man who groaned under the weight of this prodigious mountain of meat. As he laboured to position the new roast Cat enquired what would happen to the old one, and the answer explained the other feature on the very brief menu. All the remaining turkey is made into turkey curry - apparently a very popular meal. What happens to the remaining beef and gammon? The lady smiled sympathetically at such a foolish question. There's never any of that left. Every scrap is eaten.

After being issued a mountain of meat, a single ball of stuffing and a Yorkshire pudding, the rest was self service. Five vegetables and a choice of roast and new potatoes were on offer, and then gravy and a variety of sauces. For once Matt could not even think of complaining that it wasn't enough. No, if he'd wanted to, he could have piled his plate up until it would hold no more. The diners proudly carried their laden plates back to their table where they set to with enthusiasm.

Tender meat, fresh vegetables, as much veg and sauce as you can carry, Matt and Cat were enjoying their dinners so much that they quite forgot to be scornful of them. They were so busy scoffing down the tasty food that they had no time to scoff at the low-budget carvery.

As they pushed back their empty plates, replete and happy, another of the ubiquitous cheery staff members appeared and started chatting as she cleared the table. She was happy to answer all sorts of questions that Matt and Cat nosily posed. Declining her offers of pudding or coffee, they left the dim interior blinking into the daylight, and with the unexpected realisation that they had actually enjoyed a great meal at a carvery.

Having a meal at the Sloop is like sex without foreplay; there's no preamble with the menu, ordering the meal and waiting for it to be delivered - it's a quick bang for your buck. The Sloop can only be congratulated on providing great service and such good food, at such jaw-droppingly cheap prices. It's worth pointing out that on Sundays and in the evenings the price is £6.50, and that there's only a very slight discount for kids. However even at these prices it's still stunning value. So much so that one cannot help but suspect these prices will have to rise in due course, if only to prevent riots in the streets of Wootton come summertime.

May 2008 review

Matt and Cat were invited to The Sloop for an evening meal with a group of friends. Despite the groans and taunts of their fellows your reviewers took the opportunity to make some notes to update their review. You couldn't buy that kind of dedication - Matt and Cat are always on duty, even at somebody else's birthday party. It's a wonder they get invited anywhere.

It's now long enough since the reopened Sloop sailed back into Wootton that any kind of teething troubles ought to be well and truly behind it. But would Matt and Cat's revisit bear this hypothesis out?

When Matt and Cat strolled in the place seemed to be pretty well patronised with families dining. After a drink from the bar and a chance to catch up with old acquaintances, the party wandered into the labyrinthine dining area, where dozens of little dining-tables are arranged in a pleasingly unco-ordinated manner. Sensibly, the party organisers had reserved a table, and so the task of choosing one was already dealt with. As the diners settled, an exceptionally cheery young lady descended and launched into an unusual welcome speech which consisted mainly of a rehearsal of those items not available on the menu - no lamb curry, no lamb cutlets, and no soup, apparently. She also took the opportunity to explain the ordering system - a necessary task, as struggling with this confusing process comprised much of the subsequent entertainment of the evening. The Sloop seems to have made a slightly uncomfortable compromise between waitress service to the table and ordering at the bar. This reflects the Sloop's market aspirations - they want you to feel as though you're in a restaurant, and pay accordingly. But the high-turnover family pub set-up inevitably mitigates in favour of the simpler but less prestigious bar service system. It probably won't pre-empt the rest of this review too much to suggest that Matt and Cat would have preferred it if The Sloop had chosen either one of these systems and stuck with it.

Matt and Cat felt like a good feed, after a busy weekend. So Cat went straight for the fillet steak, which confusingly, appeared both on the main menu and the specials board, apparently exactly the same dish, both for £15.50. It was promised with a pastry parcel of mushroom and garlic and a choice of sauces. Matt's meat-loving palette is not quite so finely honed, and he was happy to settle for rump steak with chips.

The fun began when the diners trooped off to pay at their bar for their food, as instructed. The problem proved to be the practical difficulties of having more than one bill for the table. The various couples and individuals making up the party were intending to pay separately, but no provision appeared to have been made for this turn of events. This was further confused by the fact that throughout the meal the cheery lady who was waiting on the tables offered to take orders for drinks and desserts. Despite her unflaggingly good-natured invitations, by then nobody in the party was willing to trust their order to that system and preferred to go up to the bar and pay in person, although it transpired that this was not foolproof either. At one point Matt nearly paid for a splendid jug of Pimms that another member of the party had ordered, and on another occasion one couple got so confused that both thought the other had ordered their pudding - resulting in nothing arriving.

The food arrived in dribs and drabs for the different couples - there was no effort to co-ordinate the courses, because the system insisted on treating each payer as a separate table. The staff were polite enough to apologise for this, but seemed powerless to implement any better method of service. Cat was delighted with her sizeable fillet - although it tended towards medium rather than rare. The pastry parcel proved to be a tiny pie-like structure with a mushroomy paste within. The chips that accompanied it, however, were just the same as last time - insipid and pale. Of the accompanying sauce there was no sign. On enquiry, it turned out that one had to pay £1.50 extra for the sauce. But wait, the menu says otherwise! After some debate with the ever-courteous staff, the problem was resolved. All steak sauces cost extra except fillet, which has sauce included. But slovenly Matt had failed to ask for it when at the bar - probably distracted by the rigmarole about the jug of Pimms.

As a consolation to him, though, another member of the party who had ordered a fillet had exactly the same experience. Really, one might expect that the bar staff would know enough about the menu to offer the choice rather than wait to be asked. Anyway, Cat finally ordered a red wine and onion sauce, which duly arrived. As she observed once she'd tried a tiny bit and discarded it, it was worth ordering it for form's sake, even if it wasn't very nice.

Matt's steak was also of a good size, and tasty. However it was not even remotely rare, in fact it trespassed into the realm of well-done (see picture). The scanty ration of chips alongside were just like Cat's - thin and limp. The single mushroom decorating the dish was a decent size, but overall the meal was only just good enough for the price.

Desserts followed, of course, and were not bad at all. Cat had a delicious Lemon Posset, which was a tangy and creamy delight. Matt's Eve's Pudding was very good, although the small fragments of sponge were almost swamped by the copious ration of splendid vanilla custard, and there was no sign of the promised Devonshire toffee sauce.

So, an unusual dining experience. A great venue, characterfully maintained. Good food, and very friendly and attentive service. Yet somehow, Matt and Cat got the impression of an establishment that appeared to be struggling largely with itself. The process of obtaining food distracted significantly from the meal itself, and was flawed and needlessly complicated. Despite the heroic efforts of the staff to compensate for this, neither they nor the diners appeared to be at the helm of The Sloop.

May 2007 review
Previously part of the behemoth that is the Brewers Fayre chain, the Sloop Inn has slipped its corporate moorings and now appears to be an independent hostelry. After a brief period of closure, it emerged from its scaffolding as a pretty building with hand-painted signage. Instead of its previous gaudy and generic banner-sized proclamations its new livery is pleasantly understated. The only thing that hasn't been altered is its fantastic water-side location - and nor should it have been.

Matt and Cat parked up and eyed the creamy exterior of the pub, pleased to see the legend 'this is a no-smoking pub' painted on the wall by the door. Entering the bar from the sunny outdoors, one encounters a vast but cosy environment. Each table sits in its own pool of light giving the place a very intimate feel. The furniture is all second-hand, and varied from room to room, studiously avoiding the corporate look. Even the tables are as devoid of plastic tat as possible, with cutlery issued in real pewter tankards, muted menu colours and sauces served separately in little jugs by a sauce waitress. Matt and Cat wandered about the cavernous interior looking for somewhere to sit, not for the lack of tables but because of the choice of lovely places. Deciding to forgo the creek-front garden, they settled in the burgundy lounge - the pub's seating is colour-coded for the ease of the waiting staff.

Despite the enticing-sounding lamb on the specials board, Matt and Cat made their food choices from the regular menu. The food is well-priced, sort of mid-range pub grub with dishes from as little as £6 and some "pub classics" such as award-winning three shires sausages, hunter's chicken breast and beef, mushroom and Guiness pie. Cat made a predictable choice of chargrilled chicken and asparagus salad whilst Matt pushed the metaphorical boat out and treated himself to a 12oz king sirloin steak. Whilst waiting for their food Matt and Cat decided to play 'Hunt the Typographical Error' on the wine menu - a game popular amongst pedantic restaurant reviewers. The Sloop's wine menu passed with flying colours although, if you are at all bored whilst waiting for your meal, you might enjoy its florid prose. The flavour of one wine was described as being irrelevant because you might just want to gaze at a carafe of it on your table purely as a work of art. Pretentious, n'est ce pas?

Before long, plates of food arrived. The spot-lighting revealed rather too many greasy fingerprints and evidence of haphazard wet-cloth wiping on Cat's plate than she would like. Further study of Matt's plate revealed the same features - a most lamentable lapse.

Matt's steak was an impressive piece of meat, well chargrilled but still just about rare as he requested. It tasted great. A few home-made fried onion rings were a welcome addition, as was the somewhat meagre single mushroom and half a tomato. The salad was adequate, but the chips were limp and thin. On balance, the mighty steak carried the dish, but some solid, fresh chips would have made an irresistible combination.

Chicken and asparagus salad

Cat enjoyed her chargrilled chicken and asparagus but could not find it in herself to work up much enthusiasm for what was a fairly insipid dish. It was well-cooked and nicely presented with its perfectly textured new potatoes, but the delicate flavours of the chicken and asparagus were overwhelmed by the vinaigrette dressing.

The Sloop's reincarnation is a welcome one. The style and service of the new pub seem to be streets ahead of its brand-name corporate past, the staff are attentive and smartly dressed - even the barmen wore ties. What a civilised and peaceful location to enjoy the delightful views along the little estuary towards the sea. The food, too, has great promise. Matt and Cat will certainly be giving it another try - and hoping that, in the meantime, the Sloop tightens up its plate washing protocols and forswears the frozen chips.