After making a wrong turn out of Dania Jai-Alai recently, I ended up in the parking lot of the King's Head Pub next to a red phone booth that looked like it was shipped over from London. From the outside, the place looked like a little bed-and-breakfast that belongs in New Hampshire. From the inside, the place looks like somebody stuck a dining hall from the English countryside onto an Old World pub. I chatted with Richard Hill, the third owner of King's Head, to get some history on the weird little out-of-place pub while waiting for my Boddingtons to defoam. He told me the place has been King's Head for the past 17 years, and before that, it was a Phillips 66 gas station. There were little Bass ale Christmas lights dangling behind his head as he talked. Outside, I could make out where the bay doors used to be, between the patio and the pub area. Out front, where I had parked, were the concrete remnants of the gas pumps. The walls are covered in knick-knacks from the Old Country, including photos of old trucks and half-century-old alcohol labels. There's so much attention to detail that while eating, Henry VIII and his wives watch over you. But you can get that look at a lot of places in South Florida. I was ready to write the place off as just another novelty pub. Then my shepherd's pie showed up and I realized it's the real deal. The food's topnotch and served until 11 p.m. The beer flows from the taps as fast as you can drink it until 2 a.m. on the weekends.
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