By
Andy
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg3lRb9eV8MxfRWU8DcQcTihN0qifsZibc225_zzhsf2zS5hEctpnOmML7RJJqp9lPh6Or23z-PCTgKJhCygEPPzKKnFv4uYsu18RPwYAO2ZzVmu0BpLZ4a1NY1f-qnj-C9R0Th_vrmiHc/s320/Cr7zjfKWIAAoKFd.jpg)
“What
is it?” gasped Rob. I couldn't offer an answer.
An
imposing staircase began at our feet, stretching away into the
distance.
“Is
it a mansion?”
Inside,
an assortment of padded chairs were dotted around glossy tables. A
member of staff smiled and offered her greetings.
“Is it a hotel?”
The
room was infused with the warm aroma of basil, a product of the pizza
oven which blazed in the corner.
“Is
it a restaurant?”
Our
questions were answered by a sign on the counter: “The Florentine
Pub.”
Here
at Pubquest, we like our pubs a bit posh. Give me a pint of ale and a
fireplace over a John Smith's and a fight. But this place had swung
the pendulum too far. It was off the Poshometer.
The
atmosphere was more reminiscent of an art gallery than a pub, with
huddled regulars conversing in hushed tones.
The
floor was immaculately tiled, the bar was crafted from wood. The beer
was poured from sparkling bronze taps into oddly-shaped glasses,
before the head was sliced off with that thing you see on Stella
Artois adverts.
Instead
of offering a selection of prize ales from Sheffield's local
breweries, The Florentine primarily stocked lagers from an assortment of European
countries. Granted an Estrella is refreshing when you're on a beach
in Barcelona, and I'm sure a Staropramen hits the spot when you're
relaxing in Prague; but in Sheffield on a cold Autumn night, I just
want a Moonshine or Pale Rider.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjukD46Mg8byOQGQRjacNFlzSfoGgtckfJS9Yue5yo2yxONGy_PDNbllDgYB4vEO9g7EcCCh4uHs84uAwY4lsc7ZEXBMW1JSd7bcvWF_IYMMUDZ1Szg-G0Cqzmg2pimXu4ScOqVb0DUYSwD/s320/CSE6f1fW0AA9HjK.jpg)
Pub:
The Florentine (1 Tapton Park Road, S10 3FG)
Rating: 7/10
Pint: Löwenbräu
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