Serves Lunch Pubs in London

Oh. My. Days. Let me tell you about the Old Coffee House in London, because this place is basically time travel in pub form, and I'm obsessed. Tucked away on Beak Street in Soho, it's that perfectly worn-in, character-packed boozer that makes you feel like you've stumbled into London's coolest secret society meeting spot. Listen, if you're expecting some sterile, Instagram-perfect venue, keep walking. The Old Coffee House in London's bustling Soho district is serving up something way better - pure, unfiltered AUTHENTICITY. We're talking about a pub that's been keeping Londoners hydrated since 1772 (yes, while America was still figuring itself out, this place was already pouring pints). The moment you walk in, you'll get why this place has a 250-year track record of making people's evenings legendary. The ceiling is absolutely dripping with vintage pots and pans, the walls are plastered with everything from antique whiskey signs to classic movie memorabilia, and there's even the occasional cheeky vintage pin-up art that'll make your gran blush. It's like someone took all the best bits of British pub history and crammed them into one gloriously atmospheric space. Let's talk about the vibes because OH. MY. WORD. Picture this: You're settled into one of those insanely comfy burgundy banquettes, nursing a perfectly pulled pint, while the after-work crowd creates this amazing buzz of energy around you. The carpet (yes, actual carpet, and somehow it WORKS) muffles just enough sound to let you actually hear your mates' latest gossip without having to shout yourself hoarse. The beer selection? Solid gold. They've got your mainstream favorites for the play-it-safe crowd, plus some properly good cask ales that'll make beer snobs nod in approval. And the prices? For central London, especially Soho, you're getting the kind of deal that'll leave enough in your wallet for a cheeky second round. FOOD ALERT: We need to discuss the pub grub situation because it's exactly what you want after a few pints. We're talking proper British comfort food that'll hug your insides. The fish and chips here have achieved minor celebrity status among tourists, but honestly? Everything on the menu is that perfect level of hearty that makes you want to high-five the chef. Here's some insider intel: This place gets PACKED. Like, seriously packed. If you're rolling through on a Friday after work, you'd better channel your inner ninja to snag a seat. But here's the thing - even when it's heaving, there's this magical way the staff have of getting you served quickly. It's like they've mastered some sort of space-time continuum thing behind the bar. The upstairs dining area is your secret weapon if you're coming with a crew. It's like having your own private party space, but with all the atmosphere of downstairs floating up to join you. And trust me, you haven't lived until you've gathered your squad around one of these tables for a proper session of stories that'll become office legends. Pro tip: Hit this place around 4pm on a weekday if you want any chance of scoring one of those prime corner spots. And when someone inevitably suggests "just one more," the correct answer is always yes - because the Old Coffee House in London's Soho is the kind of pub where "one more" turns into "best night ever" faster than you can say "mine's a pint." You know how some places in London try too hard to be "authentic"? This isn't one of them. The Old Coffee House is the real deal - a proper London pub that's somehow survived every trend and fad while keeping its soul intact. It's five minutes from Piccadilly Circus, but feels like stepping into a time capsule of London's greatest hits. Don't even think about walking past this gem. Get yourself down to Beak Street and into this slice of proper London history. Because while the rest of Soho keeps changing, the Old Coffee House keeps proving that some things - like great pubs, good company, and perfectly poured pints - never go out of style. Your future self will thank you for making this your new local. Trust me on this one.

Just what West London needed - another gastropub masquerading as your friendly neighborhood watering hole. The Eagle in London perches smugly on Askew Road, its freshly painted facade practically screaming "We serve artisanal everything!" I approached with the weary skepticism of someone who's survived one too many pub "elevations," where perfectly good drinking establishments are transformed into Instagram-worthy food destinations. But damn it all if The Eagle hasn't managed to do something irritatingly right here. The moment you walk in, you're struck by how they've threaded that impossibly fine needle between maintaining proper pub credentials and creating something that actually works for modern London. The space feels lived-in rather than manufactured, like it's earned its character rather than ordered it from a "vintage pub aesthetic" catalog. Let's talk about that beer garden, shall we? It's absolutely massive, which in London real estate terms is practically obscene. While most pubs try to pass off three tables wedged between wheelie bins as "outdoor space," The Eagle's garden feels like someone accidentally left a small park out back. Even more annoying is how well they've utilized it - string lights that manage to be atmospheric rather than tacky, actual comfortable seating, and enough space between tables that you're not involuntarily joining someone else's conversation about their latest kitchen renovation. The food - and I say this through gritted teeth - is frustratingly good. Their fish and chips (which I ordered fully expecting to compose a scathing comparison to "proper" chippies) arrived golden and crackling, the fish fresh enough to make me suspicious about whether they've got a trawler hidden somewhere behind the building. The Sunday roast deserves special mention, if only because it forced me to eat my words along with every last Yorkshire pudding. The chicken was so perfectly cooked it made me temporarily forget all my clever quips about dry pub roasts. Their beer selection initially seems limited - yes, you'll find your standard Young's offerings - but they've supplemented with enough craft options to keep things interesting without veering into pretentious territory. The wine list is surprisingly decent for a place where most people are ordering pints, and their cocktails don't seem to have received the memo that pub cocktails are supposed to be mediocre. The staff operates with an efficiency that borders on suspicious - how dare they be both competent and genuinely friendly? The service hits that sweet spot between attentive and hovering, and they actually seem to know their menu inside out. It's unsettling. What's particularly vexing is how well they've managed to be all things to all people without feeling like they're trying too hard. Families with children coexist peacefully with after-work drinkers, the food is good enough to make it a destination but not so fancy that you can't pop in for a quick pint, and somehow they've maintained an atmosphere that feels authentic rather than focus-grouped. The pricing sits firmly in the "well, I suppose it could be worse" category for London - you're not being robbed blind, but your wallet will definitely know you've been out. The quality generally justifies the cost, which is perhaps the most annoying thing of all. For those keeping score at home, The Eagle is about a 10-minute walk from Stamford Brook station, though after a few of their perfectly poured pints, you might find that distance mysteriously doubles. They take bookings - which you'll actually need for Sunday lunch unless you enjoy disappointment - and yes, you can bring your dog, because apparently, they're determined to tick every box on the "perfect pub" checklist. Look, I didn't want to like The Eagle. I walked in armed with a notebook full of cynical observations and left with a reservation for next Sunday. If you must insist on visiting a pub in this part of London - and let's face it, you probably should - you might as well make it this one. Just don't tell them I sent you. I have a reputation to maintain.

Hidden within the bustling streets of Marble Arch, The Pickled Hen in London is that rare find that manages to be both a proper British pub and a sophisticated dining destination without suffering from an identity crisis. Like that friend who can pull off wearing trainers to a fancy dinner, this place knows exactly what it is and owns it completely. The first thing you'll notice about The Pickled Hen is how it defies the stuffy hotel restaurant stereotype, despite being nestled within the Marriott. It's like someone took your favorite local pub, gave it a smart makeover, but let it keep its soul. The warm wood panels and contemporary lighting create an atmosphere that's sophisticated enough for a business lunch but relaxed enough for a lazy Sunday roast. Walk in during any mealtime, and you'll discover why this spot has become something of a local institution. The breakfast spread here is the stuff of legend - think perfectly runny poached eggs perched atop toasted sourdough, accompanied by smoked salmon that would make a Scotsman weep with joy. The hash browns have achieved near-cult status among regulars, achieving that mythical balance of crispy exterior and fluffy interior that so many attempt but few master. But it's during the evening service when The Pickled Hen truly spreads its wings. The transformation is subtle but unmistakable, as the space shifts from bright and buzzy to intimately lit and wonderfully cozy. The bar area comes alive with the gentle clink of glasses and the warm murmur of conversation, while the dining room fills with the tantalizing aromas of British cuisine done right. Their fish and chips have earned such a reputation that you'll often spot guests ordering it two days in a row - and yes, that's a true story from more than one review. The menu might not be encyclopedic, but that's precisely the point. Instead of trying to be all things to all people, The Pickled Hen focuses on doing fewer dishes exceptionally well. The kitchen team treats seasonal British ingredients with the respect they deserve, creating plates that are both comforting and quietly innovative. Vegetarian options aren't just afterthoughts here; they're given equal billing and equal care. Sports fans, take note: this is one of those rare places where you can watch the match without sacrificing food quality. Imagine sipping a perfectly poured ale while catching the weekend football, but instead of typical pub grub, you're dining on restaurant-quality fare. It's like having your cake and eating it too - speaking of which, do save room for dessert. What really sets The Pickled Hen apart from other London gastropubs is its staff. Led by standout team members who've earned mentions by name in countless reviews, the service strikes that perfect balance between attentive and overbearing. They have that uncanny ability to appear just when you need them, armed with recommendations that feel personally curated rather than scripted. The all-day service model means you can pop in for everything from your morning coffee to your evening nightcap. Breakfast runs the gamut from healthy (house-made muesli and chia seed pudding) to hearty (full English, naturally). Afternoon tea here is a properly British affair, making it an ideal spot to introduce visiting friends to the tradition without the stuffiness of London's more formal venues. For those planning a visit, booking ahead for dinner is wise, especially on weekends. The restaurant's proximity to Marble Arch and Oxford Street makes it popular with both tourists and locals, creating a lively mix that adds to its charm. While walk-ins are welcome, the comfortable bar area makes any wait time feel less like waiting and more like part of the experience. Consider The Pickled Hen your new London local - whether you're actually local or not. It's the kind of place where you can take your parents for Sunday lunch, meet clients for a business dinner, or gather friends for a relaxed evening of pints and premier league. Pop in once, and you'll understand why visitors to London keep coming back, and why locals never stopped coming in the first place.