To the pub: (from l-r) the Princess of Shoreditch, the Pelican, the Holland, the Harwood Arms
(Picture: John Carey/JW Howard Photography/handout)“I suspect,” says Rob Tecwyn, chef of The Baring in Islington, “that ‘gastropub’ is a dirty word for many, given it’s long been stripped of its original meaning and replaced with a generic and formulaic approach to creating a food-led pub by the major breweries.”
Tecwyn is touching on something that, until the end of last year, could almost be taken as gospel. Profit-hungry breweries had found a blueprint to follow: find a dilapidated boozer, kick out the regulars, and do the place up with lashings of grey paint. But what is new quickly became old: the prescription, weakened by dilution, came to mean places with mediocre dishes, insufferable music and an intolerable pride in their sourdough. But pubs have a hardiness that means they endure. And from last year, a wave of pubs with food have appeared, ones that didn’t insist on explaining the concept — it’s a pub, for f***’s sake, what could need explaining? The Baring, which is terrific, is one of them; just see below. Below are a few recent openings, alongside some old favourites. Tuck in, and drink up.
New finds
The Pelican
Scrub somewhere up too fervently and the accompanying risk is that the essence of the place gets removed too. Tasteful brushed brass can prove lethal when an overdose is injected. The Pelican’s doing-over is a touch anaemic, in parts contrived (the dartboard is in an impossible-to-play spot), but the food, from ex-Brawn chef Owen Kenworthy, adds the history back in: faggots with peas and carrots, chicken in mushroom sauce, potted shrimp. Old fashioned in concept, distinctly modern in execution — which is to say, it’s superb. It’s full with an impossibly good-looking crowd, too, which always helps.
45 All Saints Road, W11, thepelicanw11.com
The Audley
Likewise occasionally haunted by the spectre of affectation — why are the board games all vintage editions? Why do they prissily insist on calling it The Audley Public House? — The Audley nevertheless is already a solid-gold hit. There is food downstairs, bar snacks, but the distinctly upmarket Mount Street Restaurant upstairs is the one post pints; go for oysters, lobster pie, foie gras, Dover sole. And try not to nick the art from the loos. Only some of it is priceless.
41-43 Mount Street, W1, theaudleypublichouse.com
The Princess Royal
Proof that gastropubs have a renewed pull is perhaps found in Ben Tish, who defected to Cubitt House to cook pub grub after a couple of years honing a Moorish-Silician thing at Norma. The Princess Royal, with elegant gardens and plates of prawns, is another of Cubitt’s finely done spots and here is representing the group at large. Try its brand new sister as well, the Barley Mow on Duke Street; the manager is Lara Rogers, daughter of one-time Guinea Grill man Oisin, so expect proper pints and proper service. It’s in the blood.
47 Hereford Road, W2, cubitthouse.co.uk
Princess of Shoreditch
Stretching the admittedly already elastic definition of what a gastropub actually is, this gets in by way of a technicality, and perhaps because of its pubby ground-floor bar, which correctly only does snacks. Upstairs, the high polish of the dining room trickles from the furniture into the award-winning food and drink; there are fine details here, as befits chef Simon Bonwick (who cooked solo for a decade at his Michelin-starred Crown at Burchetts Green). Names are gleefully straightforward — take the “beef and onions ‘cooked for ages’ in good wine”, for instance. But it’s a case of under-promising and over-delivering.
76-78 Paul Street, EC2, theprincessofshoreditch.com
The Cadogan Arms
Not quite the one that kicked all of this renewed interest off — and pubs don’t just open overnight, so everyone more or less was thinking the same thing at the same time — but when the Cadogan reopened, beautifully revamped under Mafair publican Dominic Jacobs, restaurant group JKS, and with help with the food from Kitchen Table’s James Knappett, suddenly everyone began looking more closely at how they could be done, and done well. A nice fightback against the genericism of the bigger chains; similar things were done in Fitzrovia with the George, too. Read Jimi’s review for more of a sense of the place.
298 King’s Road, SW3, thecadoganarms.london
The Tamil Prince
Almost always heaving full, but it truly deserves to be. The Prince is a Desi pub, of which there are few in London (although another newish opening, the Three Falcons just off Edgware Road, is also doing it well). One-time Roti King pals chef Prince Durairaj and general manager Glen Leeson are reunited here for pub snacks puffed up with heat, which include the grimly-named but gorgeously-done chicken lollipops, and elsewhere there are bowls of dal and lamb chops with a reputation. It is,then, princely.
115 Hemingford Road, N1, thetamilprince.com
The Holland
The newest of those here, the revival of this place is remarkable for somewhere that once looked like the bar, besides pints, might offer a stripper, some drugs, or both. Now, after a committed overhaul — the designer ripped up her home floorboards to finish the decor — it is the sort of pub Kensington needs: the menu’s highlights are the fennel salami and the rib of beef, but there are well-mixed cocktails, a good wine list and fresh beer. And terrific service.
25 Earls Court Road, W8, thehollandkensington.co.uk
The Baring
Given the flood of gastropubs this year, perhaps it’s little surprise that they’ve had a look in from newspapers, including this one — surprise! — but it’s unusual that the praise has been universal across the board. “The Baring has both old-fashioned generosity of spirit and a nimble, timely progressiveness,” goes Jimi Famurewa’ terrific review, which neatly sums up just what a new gastropub must avoid — the temptation to slip into cliché. And there is attention being paid here: in the homemade touches in the food, in the gentle, swinging style of it.
55 Baring Street, N1, thebaring.co.uk
Old favourites
The Eagle
Look, someone would have come up with the idea sooner or later — but when Mike Belben and David Eyre, each clasping five grand, opened the Eagle in the cold of January 1991, they also opened the first gastropub. It perhaps is still the purest incarnation of one; relentlessly pubby, but the menu chalked on blackboards daily takes precedence. It leans Mediterranean, but really I suspect the food drifts along with the chef’s mood.
159 Farringdon Road, EC1, theeaglefarringdon.co.uk
The Harwood Arms
The Harwood is known for two things: its Sunday lunch, and for being London’s only pub to have a Michelin star. Roasts, no matter how flashy, do end up just being roasts, so to get the most out of the tyre-shill-approved grub, try it midweek instead. Three courses are £65 (two £50) and the menu changes daily; game is the Harwood’s speciality, often caught by the pub’s owners, so if you go soon, expect fallow deer or the like.
Walham Grove, SW6, harwoodarms.com
The French House
This inclusion comes with an apology — to them. They might shudder to be included. The French captures the quintessence of a bohemian’s boozer; it is a pub for actors who’ve been resting since the Eighties and hacks who’ve no idea they’ve been fired. But, probably to their shame, they happen to have arguably London’s best restaurant upstairs. Chef Neil Borthwick turns out a daily-changing menu of extraordinary modern British food with excellent wine at decent prices. Joy distilled.
49 Dean Street, W1, frenchhousesoho.com
Draper’s Arms
The Draper’s seemed like a revival of the Eagle’s original proposition when it reopened in 2009 (it had been overhauled glossily in 2002, too, but fell off a cliff in 2008). Though these days somewhat less St John-ish than it was — but don’t worry, they still do plenty of hearts, done with plenty of heart — it always hums and mumbles with atmosphere, and you do, with no question, feel you’re in a pub. But also a polestar.
44 Barnsbury Street, N1, thedrapersarms.com
The Red Lion & Sun
Arguably not only Highgate’s best pub but probably its top place to eat too, the Red Lion & Sun feels just like a terrific pub serving food, not a pub bar with a restaurant vaguely and too loosely attached. It works in part owing to its versatility — inside it’s somewhere to curl up when the winds howl, outside its two beer gardens are somewhere to lounge for a session in the summer sun (blame the hangover on heat stroke) — but also because it sources from local butchers, serves plenty of oysters, and has a Sunday roast that seems to be a honing beacon for just about all of those north of the river. The wine list changes often; it rarely falters.
25 North Road, N6, theredlionandsun.com
The Wells
Folded into the walk to the Wells is London’s most beautiful view, and only a widespread, pervasive ignorance can be blamed for the fact this isn’t taken as gospel. There is romance in the names here: walk down Flask Walk, and as it flows into Well Walk, and in the dark, lights write an invite from the beautiful Georgian frontage. This is another game of two halves: downstairs, pure pub; upstairs, a series of elegant, truly beautiful dining rooms. Under the watchful eye of Beth Coventry — she of Greens and the original, hellraising Langan’s, among others — head chef Greg Smith lays on a menu both elegant and familiar, modern British in feel. It feels an occasion to dine here; it is not, however, priced for solely for one. Return often if you can.
30 Well Walk, NW3, thewellshampstead.co.uk
The Cow
“I’d like to write about the Cow,” a friend once said to me. “Except I’d pretty quickly run out of things to say about Guinness and oysters.” It transpires said friend consumes neither. Either way, the Cow has a reputation for both; so too does it have one for being a gastropub originator, opened by Tom Conran not too long after the Eagle (1995 to their 1991). One reputation no longer seems justified, though: in its celebrity-stuffed heyday (all things must pass), it was known for enormous prices. These, along with dishes like cote de boeuf, have mostly disappeared, but the food — which takes inspiration from Alastair Little’s simple-British approach — remains excellent. It’s not cheap, but neither is it a fortune. You’re just unlikely to see Macca here these days. The oysters and Guinness are as good as ever, though.
89 Westbourne Park Road, W2, thecowlondon.com
The Camberwell Arms
At the time (ownerships and partnerships have since adjusted) the youngest sister of Waterloo’s Anchor & Hope (overrated) and Stockwell’s Canton Arms (good), this 2014 opening saw chef Mike Davies on the form of his life. Still under Mike’s hands, with a hand from Frank Boxer and James Dye, it’s as good as ever, as familiar as a favourite jumper. It serves simple, seasonal food, which can often mean nothing — but here, doesn’t.
65 Camberwell Church Street, SE5, thecamberwellarms.co.uk
The Compton Arms
I was reminded recently that it’s practically illegal to mention this backstreet Islington favourite — recently saved from closure, despite a recent influx of dreadful neighbours who wanted to shut it (did they move by accident? Didn’t they realise there was a pub there?) — without also mentioning that it’s also the inspiration for Orwell’s ideal of a pub, the Moon Under Water. As such, it likewise might come out in cold sweats to be mentioned here, but in recent times has made efforts to draw a crowd for its food. Ed McIlroy and Jamie Allan found a fame of sorts with their Plimsoll pop-up here, while presently Belly is in the kitchen. Keep it up and the Compton could, perhaps, become known as a test bed for the next big thing.
4 Compton Avenue, N1, comptonarms.co.uk
The Marksman
Back when they still had such an award, Michelin named this Hackney spot its Pub of the Year in 2017 – unsurprising, since it was reborn the previous year with Michelin-starred blood in its veins. Chefs John Rotheram and Tom Harris reopened the Marksman, having both previously worked at St John (is St John the restaurant equivalent of a gastropub? It may well be). Befitting its origins, straightforward British dishes top the bill, albeit in tarted-up form: sausages, but with added pigeon, not just a chicken and mushroom pie, but with girolles. You get the idea.
