The Phoenix is perhaps York’s most aptly named pub, and thankfully, the pub most amenable to lazy metaphors …..

Over the last few years this ale house has closed, risen from the ashes, re-opened and then always closed again shortly afterwards. This sequence was repeated more times than this website cares to remember, but now, it seems to be thriving and it is sincerely hoped that this place remains risen, for this latest re-incarnation is rather ruddy good, despite its surroundings.

Dour, miserable council properties fringe this grade II listed boozer, and despite the presence of part of York’s medieval walls within (literal) spitting distance of the pub, if you were to judge this establishment by its surroundings you would be forgiven for thinking this place would be as ropey as George Best’s first liver. Once inside however, any misgivings are quickly forgotten.

There is a small bar on your right as you enter the pub from George Street, which is both inviting and cosy. The bar in the centre of the room is well stocked with Golden Pippin (one of thepubsofyork.com’s all time favourites), Timothy Taylor Landlord and Black Sheep – which unlike the Bee Gees, is a trio this website could gladly spend a whole evening with. There was a lack of anything darker or maltier but this can be forgiven, especially when considering the high quality continental lager on sale, which is available in bottled form from a suitably chilled fridge.

At the back of the pub you will find a comfortable lounge area with a real(ish) looking fire, dartboard and numerous pictures of Jazz heroes (the Phoenix hosts regular Jazz nights) on the wall, including Miles Davis, another of thepubsofyork.com’s all time favourites.

From the lounge area, you can access the reasonably sized, walled beer garden which gets ‘Brilliant Beer Garden’ status due to the fact you have a view of the medieval walls, and after all, how many beer gardens can say that?

It is testament to the quality of the pub that at the time of writing, despite only being open a few months, and being a little out of the way, this pub has been visited numerous times and will no doubt be frequented many more times in the future. If it’s all in the name then thepubsofyork.com suggest this public house should be renamed the Macaw, as this species of tropical bird apparently live until they are at least fifty.

P.S. If you’re historically inclined, whilst visiting the Phoenix, you could take a quick detour to the grave of Dick Turpin, who is buried in St George’s churchyard, just a hop skip and a jump down the road.

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