Gastro Pub Pubs in London

The Thomas Cubitt Pub Belgravia stands as London's answer to the age-old question: what happens when you cross a sophisticated Belgravia townhouse with a proper British pub? The result is a establishment that manages to be both posh and cozy, like bumping into Helen Mirren at your local corner shop – surprisingly approachable, yet undeniably elegant. Named after London's master builder who shaped Belgravia's stunning architecture, this isn't your average London watering hole. While many historic pubs seem frozen in time, The Thomas Cubitt has evolved into something rather special – a gastro pub that makes you forget you're in a pub at all, until you notice the perfectly pulled pints and the warm buzz of conversation that only British pub culture can create. The ground floor bar feels like walking into your impossibly stylish friend's living room, if that friend happened to inherit a Georgian mansion and decided to share it with the neighborhood. Dark wood panels catch the light from elegant wall sconces, while leather armchairs practically beg you to sink into them with a craft gin and tonic in hand. Upstairs, the dining room strikes that perfect balance between formal and relaxed – white tablecloths and sparkling glassware, yes, but also comfortable chairs that encourage you to linger over your Sunday roast well into the afternoon. Speaking of food, the kitchen here performs the kind of culinary magic that makes you question everything you thought you knew about pub grub. The menu changes with the seasons, but certain stars remain constant. The Sunday roast has achieved near-mythical status among Belgravia locals, with Yorkshire puddings that rise like edible sculptures and roast potatoes that somehow manage to be both crispy and cloud-like. It's the kind of meal that makes you want to start a petition to make Sunday roast a daily occurrence. The bar program deserves its own standing ovation. The gin selection is extensive enough to make even the most jaded juniper enthusiast raise an eyebrow in approval. They take their cocktails seriously here – watch the bartenders measure, shake, and garnish with the precision of scientists, but the warmth of old friends. The wine list is thoughtfully curated, offering everything from casual glasses to bottles that might require a quick call to your accountant. What sets The Thomas Cubitt apart from London's endless parade of upscale gastropubs is its ability to read the room. Come in wearing your Sunday best, and you'll feel right at home. Roll in wearing your casual clothes after a long walk through nearby Hyde Park, and you'll be just as welcome. The staff manages to maintain that delicate balance between attentive and overbearing – they're there when you need them, invisible when you don't. The outdoor seating area is a particular triumph, especially during those precious few months of British sunshine. Elizabeth Street provides the perfect backdrop for people-watching, while strategically placed heaters and blankets mean you can brave the al fresco experience well into autumn. It's the kind of setup that makes you want to cancel all your plans and spend the afternoon watching the world go by, glass in hand. For all its high-end touches and premium positioning, The Thomas Cubitt hasn't forgotten its pub roots. On match days, you'll find a surprisingly passionate crowd gathered around the televisions, though here they're more likely to spill their Champagne than their beer when celebrating a goal. The pub welcomes four-legged friends in the bar area, and it's not uncommon to see immaculately groomed dogs lounging beside their equally well-turned-out owners. A word about timing: booking ahead is essential for the dining room, especially for Sunday lunch. The bar operates on a first-come, first-served basis, but arriving early evening usually secures a spot. If you're planning a special occasion, the private dining rooms upstairs offer a more intimate setting, though they require advance planning and a healthy appetite for both food and spending. Whether you're a Belgravia local or a visitor seeking refuge from the tourist traps around Victoria Station, The Thomas Cubitt offers something increasingly rare in London – a genuine experience that lives up to its reputation. Pop in for a quick drink, stay for dinner, and you might just find yourself becoming one of the regulars who make this place feel like home. Just don't blame me if you find yourself googling property prices in Belgravia afterward.

Let me tell you about the absolute gem that is The Elgin in Maida Vale, London - the kind of place that makes you text your friends at midnight saying "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?!" This gorgeous gastro pub has somehow managed to nail that perfect sweet spot between fancy-pants dining and your favorite local, and I'm still not over it. Picture this: you're strolling through Maida Vale's tree-lined streets, maybe feeling a bit fancy because, hello, it's LONDON, when you stumble into what might just be your new favorite spot in the city. The Elgin isn't just a pub - it's that friend who's somehow both sophisticated AND knows how to have a proper good time. OKAY BUT THE FOOD THOUGH! We're talking Ottolenghi-level deliciousness that'll have you taking pictures for the 'gram before you even realize you've become "that person." Their burrata with peaches? I literally dreamed about it last night. Not even kidding. And the fried chicken? Let's just say I've seen perfectly reasonable adults arm-wrestle over the last piece. The vibes in here are immaculate, especially during summer when they throw open all the windows and doors, and the whole place just BREATHES. It's like they took everything you love about a traditional London pub, gave it a glow-up, but kept all the good bits that make you want to stay for "just one more." The renovation they've done is *chef's kiss* - think gorgeous interiors that make you feel posh without making you feel like you can't properly laugh. Here's the real tea - this place shape-shifts throughout the day in the best possible way. Morning? Roll in for coffee and breakfast that'll make your usual cafe look like a service station sandwich. Lunch? Their menu will have your sad desk salad filing for emotional damage. But dinner? OH. MY. DAYS. This is when The Elgin really flexes. They've got this whole selection of craft beers that'll make your beer-snob friend actually shut up and enjoy something for once. And the cocktails? Dangerous in the best way possible. Like, "oops, I just texted my ex but actually don't regret it because I'm having THE BEST TIME" dangerous. Let's talk about the staff because they're actually magic? Had a wedding party absolutely RAVE about how the team made their special day unforgettable. And if they can handle a wedding (which, let's be honest, is basically herding cats while everyone's emotional), they can handle anything. They'll even whip up something special if you've got dietary requirements - no sad plain salad energy here! Dog friendly? CHECK. Good for groups? DOUBLE CHECK. Got that outdoor seating for when London remembers what sunshine is? Triple check with a cherry on top! And don't even get me started on their Sunday roasts - they're the kind that make you call your mum to apologize because you've found a new favorite (sorry, Mum). The Elgin does this brilliant thing where it's perfect for literally any occasion. Date night? The atmosphere's got your back. Family dinner? They'll keep everyone happy from your vegan sister to your "I only eat meat and potatoes" uncle. Quick work lunch? They'll make you look like you've got your life together when you suggest it to your colleagues. Here's the insider scoop - book ahead for dinner because this place gets BUSY (for very good reasons). They take cards, do contactless, and there's paid street parking nearby if you're driving. But honestly? Get the tube to Maida Vale and thank me later because then you can properly get involved with their wine list. Listen, if you're anywhere near Maida Vale and you're not at The Elgin, what are you even doing with your life? This is the kind of place that makes you understand why people write poetry about London. It's where "quick drinks" turn into "why is it suddenly tomorrow?" and "just a bite" becomes "I think I've found my new calling as a food critic." Don't walk, RUN to The Elgin - and thank me by saving me a seat at the bar. Deal?

Just what London needs - another gastropub trying to convince us it's reinvented the wheel. The Kennington in London's ever-gentrifying south sits there with its carefully curated "authentic pub" aesthetic, practically begging to be dismissed as yet another mediocre attempt at elevating pub grub to something Instagram-worthy. I wanted to hate it. I really did. But damn it all if The Kennington hasn't wormed its way into my cynical heart like some sort of gastropub parasite. Let's address the elephant in the room - yes, it's one of those London pubs that's had an obvious makeover. The interior looks like someone let Pinterest explode all over it. Yet somehow, unlike its try-hard cousins scattered across the capital, it manages to maintain just enough genuine boozer DNA to avoid feeling completely sanitized. The pub dog - because of course there's a pub dog - is called Poppy, and I'm irritated by how charming she is. She's probably on the payroll, a four-legged marketing strategy designed to disarm even the most hardened critics. It's working. What really forced me to reconsider my initial disdain was the food. The steak and ale pie arrived looking suspiciously perfect, like it had just finished a photoshoot. I stabbed it with my fork, half-expecting it to be style over substance. Instead, I found myself confronted with properly made pastry and meat that hadn't been bullied into submission. The gravy actually tasted like it had seen a real kitchen rather than the inside of a packet. The selection behind the bar is another reluctant tick in the plus column. They've managed to strike that elusive balance between craft beer pretension and actually drinkable options. The wine list won't have sommeliers weeping with joy, but it's several notches above the usual pub plonk. And the cocktails? Let's just say they know their way around a proper gin and tonic, which is more than I can say for half the "mixology" venues in the city. Here's where it gets really annoying - they've actually got the service right too. The staff manage to be attentive without hovering like anxious helicopters. They know their menu, they know their drinks, and they seem genuinely happy to be there, which in London's hospitality scene is about as rare as a reasonable rent price. The pricing sits in that sweet spot where you can't quite complain but also can't quite forget you're in London. It's not cheap-cheap, but considering the quality, it's fair enough. Though I did catch myself doing that very London thing of justifying a £15 burger because "at least it comes with proper chips." They do the Sunday roast thing, and yes, fine, it's good. The Yorkshire puddings are approximately the size of a small car, the vegetables aren't cooked to within an inch of their lives, and the gravy... well, let's just say I've considered asking for a flask of it to go. The live music nights manage to avoid the usual pub gig pitfall of some bloke murdering "Wonderwall" while you try to have a conversation. They actually book decent acts, though I'm loathe to admit this might make it harder to get a table. Speaking of tables - book one. Especially for Sunday lunch. The Kennington has developed an irritating habit of being popular, particularly with locals who seem to have cottoned on to its qualities faster than I'd like to admit. The outdoor seating area comes into its own during those three days of London summer, and yes, they're dog-friendly, because apparently, that's a crucial metric for pub success these days. For those wondering about the practicalities, they're open for lunch and dinner, do a decent brunch (though if you call it "brunch o'clock" I will personally ask you to leave), and the kitchen actually knows what to do with vegetarians beyond offering them a sad risotto. They take cards, accept contactless, and even have those fancy phone payment things that make me feel ancient. Look, I didn't want to like The Kennington. It goes against everything my jaded, pub-critiquing soul stands for. But if you're in this corner of London and in need of a proper pub that does proper food with proper drinks and proper service, I suppose - against my better judgment - I have to recommend it. Just don't all go at once. I still need somewhere to drink.