I love seeing what food different clubs offer fans and there's a twitter account that posts pictures from all over the world. Now...this one from Chesterfield amused me:



Reminded me of when John Fenty started walking around Blundell Park eating a burger after a few complaints about their quality.

There was also a picture of fish and chips at Brighton but they'd poured the mushy peas all over the top....was traumatising! Although this offering from Doncaster I could cope with as it's only a fishcake under the peas. Probably not the easiest to eat without getting it all down you!



From a couple of years ago but Morecambe's offering looks abysmal.



Slightly better January last year:

This at Hull looks the absolute nuts -

We do get loads of plaudits on footy scran and rightly so.

That's a 6 inch hotdog if i've ever seen one  ;D

Nice to have a less depressing thread for a change!

Good work LocalLadGTFC!

Quoted from LocalLadGTFC

That's a 6 inch hotdog if i've ever seen one  ;D

Does it need some Viagra?

The food has definitely improved over recent seasons but I’d love a lesser spotted Saturday football burger…… ( plus the opportunity to pay for our season tickets by monthly direct debit . (These are my two non on the pitch wishes (new stadium not withstanding)))

My experiences of food at at football grounds is over priced and very mediocre at best. There are exceptions but in general I think not very good.

Quoted from LocalLadGTFC

That's a 6 inch hotdog if i've ever seen one  ;D

Not what JohnnyBoy said.

My worst ever food experience at a football match just happens to have been at one of the worst Town games I’ve ever attended. And if not the worst, certainly the coldest game I’ve been to.

It was that weird Sunday game away at Oldham, in what would turn out to be Groves’ last game as manager. I can’t remember if it was free to get in or a fiver, but there was some sort of deal going on.

5-0 and a man down at half-time, thanks to Scott Vernon’s one and only career hat-trick, I decided to treat myself to a pie to cheer myself up. And to be fair, they looked alright, served in little tin foil trays, meaning you could just see the flaky, pastry of the pie atop its alluring crust. I took it back to my seat, freezing my knackers off, knowing it couldn’t be any worse than the game or the weather.

Now there’s no right or wrong way to eat a football ground pie, but personally I like to remove it from the tray and bite chunks of the fúcker out of my hands. As I went to do this, it became apparent that the outside, and bottom, of the pie, were pitch black. They had turned the pie’s exterior into charcoal. You couldn’t even bite into it.

Anyway, since my testicles were rapidly becoming icicles and I was hungry, I simply thought “fúck it, I’ll take the lid off and eat the contents with a plastic fork”. So that’s what I went to do. Only at this juncture, I was met with the revelation that, despite the pie’s veneer having been overcooked to the point of carbon, its contents were in fact frozen solid. I don’t recall what kind of animal those contents claimed to be, but by this point I wouldn’t have believed it anyway. They had, to be fair, given me a pie that was cooked perfectly on average, and yet was still somehow completely inedible. They had created the perfect state of culinary equilibrium, and yet eating it might well have hospitalised me.

But that’s not where it ends. Having poked at said frozen meat in disbelief, I noticed that one small area was in fact slightly softer than the rest of it. And it came away from the rest of the pie on my fork with less resistance than the Town defence that day. At this point, it became clear what had happened. Someone else had already had the pie, taken the lid off, taken a bite, realised it was frozen, spat it back into the pie, put the lid back on and taken it back. And the frugal Boundary Park kiosk staff, not wanting to be wasteful, had simply put it back on the hot counter ready to be resold.

The dirty Lancashire bástards.

non-league food is best, smaller crowds

Quoted from BraStrap

non-league food is best, smaller crowds

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/NQEwQdm9ug4

I do a lot of minor league football and you get top affordable scran at many. Harworth Colliery, Barton Town, Ferriby, Armthorpe Welfare, Handsworth and Frickley are top notch. So is Rossington where you can normally see Ross Hannah still banging them in.

Poojah you had me in tears of laughter reading that brilliant.
You should write a book on your Grimsby exploits.

And the price of Bovril !! My traditional football drink ...yeah and i still pay it ,as i have done for years.

Eatings cheating 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺💪

Quoted from Poojah

My worst ever food experience at a football match just happens to have been at one of the worst Town games I’ve ever attended. And if not the worst, certainly the coldest game I’ve been to.

It was that weird Sunday game away at Oldham, in what would turn out to be Groves’ last game as manager. I can’t remember if it was free to get in or a fiver, but there was some sort of deal going on.

5-0 and a man down at half-time, thanks to Scott Vernon’s one and only career hat-trick, I decided to treat myself to a pie to cheer myself up. And to be fair, they looked alright, served in little tin foil trays, meaning you could just see the flaky, pastry of the pie atop its alluring crust. I took it back to my seat, freezing my knackers off, knowing it couldn’t be any worse than the game or the weather.

Now there’s no right or wrong way to eat a football ground pie, but personally I like to remove it from the tray and bite chunks of the fúcker out of my hands. As I went to do this, it became apparent that the outside, and bottom, of the pie, were pitch black. They had turned the pie’s exterior into charcoal. You couldn’t even bite into it.

Anyway, since my testicles were rapidly becoming icicles and I was hungry, I simply thought “fúck it, I’ll take the lid off and eat the contents with a plastic fork”. So that’s what I went to do. Only at this juncture, I was met with the revelation that, despite the pie’s veneer having been overcooked to the point of carbon, its contents were in fact frozen solid. I don’t recall what kind of animal those contents claimed to be, but by this point I wouldn’t have believed it anyway. They had, to be fair, given me a pie that was cooked perfectly on average, and yet was still somehow completely inedible. They had created the perfect state of culinary equilibrium, and yet eating it might well have hospitalised me.

But that’s not where it ends. Having poked at said frozen meat in disbelief, I noticed that one small area was in fact slightly softer than the rest of it. And it came away from the rest of the pie on my fork with less resistance than the Town defence that day. At this point, it became clear what had happened. Someone else had already had the pie, taken the lid off, taken a bite, realised it was frozen, spat it back into the pie, put the lid back on and taken it back. And the frugal Boundary Park kiosk staff, not wanting to be wasteful, had simply put it back on the hot counter ready to be resold.

The dirty Lancashire bástards.

Great read.
I'd pay for a t-shirt with a picture of said pie and the quote "The dirty Lancashire bástards".

MK Dons burger was the same as the club - plastic

Dreadful

Kidderminster will always be held as the best food as they were doing it years before anyone else cared.

The donny food I can guarantee won’t me getting served up like that when the queue’s are five deep at half time. It’ll be thrown together by ethal and Trudy with the peas slopped on the top like a helping of borstal gloop.

Quoted from Poojah

My worst ever food experience at a football match just happens to have been at one of the worst Town games I’ve ever attended. And if not the worst, certainly the coldest game I’ve been to.

It was that weird Sunday game away at Oldham, in what would turn out to be Groves’ last game as manager. I can’t remember if it was free to get in or a fiver, but there was some sort of deal going on.

5-0 and a man down at half-time, thanks to Scott Vernon’s one and only career hat-trick, I decided to treat myself to a pie to cheer myself up. And to be fair, they looked alright, served in little tin foil trays, meaning you could just see the flaky, pastry of the pie atop its alluring crust. I took it back to my seat, freezing my knackers off, knowing it couldn’t be any worse than the game or the weather.

Now there’s no right or wrong way to eat a football ground pie, but personally I like to remove it from the tray and bite chunks of the fúcker out of my hands. As I went to do this, it became apparent that the outside, and bottom, of the pie, were pitch black. They had turned the pie’s exterior into charcoal. You couldn’t even bite into it.

Anyway, since my testicles were rapidly becoming icicles and I was hungry, I simply thought “fúck it, I’ll take the lid off and eat the contents with a plastic fork”. So that’s what I went to do. Only at this juncture, I was met with the revelation that, despite the pie’s veneer having been overcooked to the point of carbon, its contents were in fact frozen solid. I don’t recall what kind of animal those contents claimed to be, but by this point I wouldn’t have believed it anyway. They had, to be fair, given me a pie that was cooked perfectly on average, and yet was still somehow completely inedible. They had created the perfect state of culinary equilibrium, and yet eating it might well have hospitalised me.

But that’s not where it ends. Having poked at said frozen meat in disbelief, I noticed that one small area was in fact slightly softer than the rest of it. And it came away from the rest of the pie on my fork with less resistance than the Town defence that day. At this point, it became clear what had happened. Someone else had already had the pie, taken the lid off, taken a bite, realised it was frozen, spat it back into the pie, put the lid back on and taken it back. And the frugal Boundary Park kiosk staff, not wanting to be wasteful, had simply put it back on the hot counter ready to be resold.

The dirty Lancashire bástards.

It was the crap on the pitch that drunk me off that day.

excrement the bed, we NEED that TOFFEE APPLE CRUMBLE here

Stockwood & Pettit please make this happen  :P

Quoted from WOZOFGRIMSBY

Kidderminster will always be held as the best food as they were doing it years before anyone else cared.

The donny food I can guarantee won’t me getting served up like that when the queue’s are five deep at half time. It’ll be thrown together by ethal and Trudy with the peas slopped on the top like a helping of borstal gloop.

Kidderminster was excellent. I went to FGR in 2010 and that was top food too. No longer the case from what I gather.

The food at BP is so much better than it used to be, except the lower findus one, Sharky’s is it? That’s pretty sub standard stuff. I always walk around to one of the other ones.

"the dogs" is always bang on tbf, bit pricy but the UB naughty is sublime..

Quoted from Poojah

My worst food experience at a football match was a cold day at Oldham.  A half-time pie, which was charcoal black on the outside and frozen solid on the inside. I don’t recall what kind of animal the contents claimed to be.

I noticed that one small area was slightly softer than the rest of it. It came away from my fork with less resistance than the Town defence that day. I reckon someone else had already bought the pie, taken the lid off, had a bite, realised it was frozen, spat it back into the pie, replaced the lid and returned it.  The Boundary Park kiosk staff had simply put it back on the hot counter to be resold.

The dirty Lancashire bástards.

That is precisely why I would never purchase a meat product at an away game.  If it's cold, I'd get some soup.

Quoted from White_shorts

That is precisely why I would never purchase a meat product at an away game.  If it's cold, I'd get some soup.

I haven’t since, in fairness, and that game was a little over 20 years ago.

Quoted from Poojah

My worst ever food experience at a football match just happens to have been at one of the worst Town games I’ve ever attended. And if not the worst, certainly the coldest game I’ve been to.

It was that weird Sunday game away at Oldham, in what would turn out to be Groves’ last game as manager. I can’t remember if it was free to get in or a fiver, but there was some sort of deal going on.

5-0 and a man down at half-time, thanks to Scott Vernon’s one and only career hat-trick, I decided to treat myself to a pie to cheer myself up. And to be fair, they looked alright, served in little tin foil trays, meaning you could just see the flaky, pastry of the pie atop its alluring crust. I took it back to my seat, freezing my knackers off, knowing it couldn’t be any worse than the game or the weather.

Now there’s no right or wrong way to eat a football ground pie, but personally I like to remove it from the tray and bite chunks of the fúcker out of my hands. As I went to do this, it became apparent that the outside, and bottom, of the pie, were pitch black. They had turned the pie’s exterior into charcoal. You couldn’t even bite into it.

Anyway, since my testicles were rapidly becoming icicles and I was hungry, I simply thought “fúck it, I’ll take the lid off and eat the contents with a plastic fork”. So that’s what I went to do. Only at this juncture, I was met with the revelation that, despite the pie’s veneer having been overcooked to the point of carbon, its contents were in fact frozen solid. I don’t recall what kind of animal those contents claimed to be, but by this point I wouldn’t have believed it anyway. They had, to be fair, given me a pie that was cooked perfectly on average, and yet was still somehow completely inedible. They had created the perfect state of culinary equilibrium, and yet eating it might well have hospitalised me.

But that’s not where it ends. Having poked at said frozen meat in disbelief, I noticed that one small area was in fact slightly softer than the rest of it. And it came away from the rest of the pie on my fork with less resistance than the Town defence that day. At this point, it became clear what had happened. Someone else had already had the pie, taken the lid off, taken a bite, realised it was frozen, spat it back into the pie, put the lid back on and taken it back. And the frugal Boundary Park kiosk staff, not wanting to be wasteful, had simply put it back on the hot counter ready to be resold.

The dirty Lancashire bástards.

I took my father in law to that match for his one and only Town game. He wasn't from this area.

He never went to another game.