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Nestled in Stanford le Hope, "The Bull" offers a casual spot for those seeking a pub and bar experience. Located along the SS17, this establishment serves as a welcoming place for locals and visitors alike. With operating hours starting early at 6:30 AM every day except Sunday, it's a convenient option for morning patrons and continues service into the evening until 7:30 PM during much of the week. On Sundays, you'll find it open from a later start at 7:00 AM and closing by 4:30 PM.
The Bull appears to be wallet-friendly, appealing to budget-conscious guests. Though specific prices aren't available, it's noted as a cheap option. Patrons looking to settle their tabs have the flexibility to pay with credit cards, offering added convenience for modern-day dining. However, potential visitors might want to note the absence of recent updates from the restaurant's owners, which leaves some features and offerings undisclosed. Furthermore, without user reviews to guide perceptions, newcomers are urged to set their expectations based on personal experiences.
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Visitors' reviews on The Bull
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Trudy Dubois
11 months ago on Facebook
had a lovely birthday lunch here. lovely staff and our meal was really delicious
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Carrie Rivers
a year ago on Facebook
Came for a Sunday roast with the hubby today. 5pm Booking. Best roast we have had in a pub EVER. The service was quick and the staff all very friendly. No long wait… live music in the garden didn’t encroach inside. Dinner was faultless, huge portions, boiling hot, seasoned well and presented well. Bread and butter pudding was the best I’ve ever had and the chocolate and toffee cheesecake my husband has he said was delicious! We highly recommend this place and its roast dinners. We will definitely be back!
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Monty Cheesewick's Guide to Essex
a year ago on Facebook
Right, strap yourselves in because The Bull in Corringham is less a pub and more a parallel dimension where history, fish steaks, and balsamic doodles collide like a Victorian chimney in a Blitz bomb raid. This place has been around so long, it probably predates the invention of sitting down, and yet here I was, perched on a chair older than common sense, ready for the feast of kings—or at least a couple of confused fishermen. Friday night, fish night, a sacred ritual. But let me tell you, this wasn’t your usual floppy fish scenario, where a sad-eyed trout arrives looking like it wants to have a word about your recent life choices. No, these were happy steaks. Cheerful slabs of trout and seabass, strutting onto the plate like they’d just been promoted to headliner at the Glastonbury of pub grub. And the spuds! Oh, the spuds. These weren’t your common “pile ’em high” chips—no. These were potato chalices. Little golden goblets of carb perfection, as if the spuds had joined a cult and been elevated to sacred duty. The veg was trying its best—broccoli and carrots arranged in a way that screamed “I’m a team player!”—but the real drama was the balsamic vinegar. It wasn’t just drizzled; it was an abstract masterpiece right there on the plate, like Jackson Pollock had come back from the dead and decided his true calling wasn’t art, but 1990s pub food garnishes. It was ridiculous and wonderful all at once, like a Picasso painting of a roast dinner. That said, the whole affair could’ve done with a proper sauce to take the edge off the dryness and remind the fish and veg they’re supposed to be friends, not distant acquaintances. Now the staff… Oh, the staff. Polished to a shine so bright I half expected them to be announced over a tannoy: “Cabin crew, prepare for dinner service.” They moved with such efficiency I started looking for the emergency exits (turns out they’re by the 1627 beam). I don’t trust people that efficient—it’s like they’re planning a heist or an elaborate flash mob. Speaking of beams, The Bull has a beam so ancient and wise it could probably host its own TED Talk on the history of pubs. This oak marvel dates back to 1627, back when people thought potatoes were witchcraft and a pint of ale cured all known diseases. It stretches proudly across the bar, whispering secrets of smugglers who used to shift rum and dodgy tat through the marshes. Honestly, you can almost hear their ghosts grumbling about the price of modern contraband. And the history doesn’t stop there! Did you know The Bull was once called The Bell because the landlord was named Abraham Bell? Imagine that mix-up—people wandering in shouting for The Bull and getting The Bell. Absolute pandemonium. At one point, there was even a dormer window, but it was blown off by a bomb in 1940 because of course it was. This pub has survived smugglers, bombs, and the scandal of being briefly misnamed. It’s basically the James Bond of boozers. So there you have it: The Bull in Corringham. It’s a pub where history drips from the ceiling, fish steaks take you on a spiritual journey, and balsamic vinegar reinvents itself as modern art. Go for the potatoes, stay for the oak beam, and leave with the nagging suspicion that the staff are plotting something brilliant.
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British, Vegetarian options
££££
Price range per person
up to £8
Address
Church Road, Corringham, England, United Kingdom, SS17 9AT
Features
Сredit cards accepted
Booking
Opening hours
| SundaySun | 10AM-10PM |
| MondayMon | 10AM-10PM |
| TuesdayTue | 10AM-10PM |
| WednesdayWed | 10AM-10PM |
| ThursdayThu | 10AM-10PM |
| FridayFri | 10AM-10PM |
| SaturdaySat | 10AM-10PM |
Website
Instagram
@bullpubcorringham
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