Carbobar

Just what Hackney Wick needed - another Italian joint masquerading as a pub-restaurant hybrid. When I first heard about Carbobar London, I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly sprained an optic nerve. The name alone sounds like something a marketing intern conjured up during a caffeine-induced fever dream. And yet, here I am, reluctantly penning what amounts to a love letter to this inexplicably charming establishment.

Let's address the elephant in the room: it's stationed opposite Victoria Park, which normally signals tourist trap mediocrity. But Carbobar has pulled off something approaching miraculous - it's actually good. Really good. The kind of good that makes you question your own cynicism and wonder if you're becoming soft in your old age.

The first crack in my armor appeared during their happy hour, when I witnessed a drag queen performing Pavarotti while serving perfectly executed Negronis. It's this kind of beautiful absurdity that sets Carbobar London apart from the cookie-cutter establishments dotting the East London landscape. The fact that they offer 2-for-1 cocktails during these performances feels almost too generous, like they're apologizing for being so entertaining.

Their Sicilian menu initially struck me as suspiciously ambitious. Anyone who's spent time in Sicily knows how protective locals are of their culinary heritage. Yet somehow, these madlads are pulling it off. The caponata - a dish I've had butchered more times than I care to count - arrives with the perfect balance of sweet, sour, and savory notes that would make a Palermo grandmother weep with joy. The arancini (and I say this through gritted teeth) are possibly the best I've had outside of Sicily.

I wanted to hate the fact that they're dog-friendly. Really, I did. The thought of pooches potentially interrupting my pasta pilgrimage should have been infuriating. Instead, I found myself sharing bits of bread with a particularly charming French bulldog while his owners tackled a spectacular plate of bigoli alla carbonara. Yes, sometimes the guanciale is slightly overcharred, but that's practically the only criticism I can muster, and even that feels petty.

The space works for practically every occasion, which is annoying because it means I can't even criticize their lack of focus. Want a romantic dinner? The evening lighting makes everyone look like they've just stepped out of a Fellini film. Family lunch? The kids' menu doesn't insult young palates with chicken nugget mediocrity. Business meeting? The acoustics somehow manage to balance the background buzz with conversation-friendly zones.

They've even managed to crack the impossible code of being both a legitimate restaurant and a proper pub. The craft beer selection is thoughtful, the wine list is predominantly Italian and surprisingly reasonable, and they serve proper coffee that doesn't taste like it was filtered through a Victorian chimney sweep's handkerchief.

Let's talk about the service because it's irritatingly good. The staff possess that rare combination of knowledge and personality that makes you want to befriend them while simultaneously respecting their expertise. They'll remember your name, your preferred table, and that time you mentioned your aunt's gluten intolerance, all without being creepy about it.

The location, which I initially dismissed as "just another Hackney Wick wannabe," has proven to be perfectly positioned. After dinner, you can stroll through Victoria Park pretending you're walking off the calories (you're not, but it's a nice fiction to maintain). The paid street parking might seem annoying, but it actually helps keep the tourist hordes at bay.

I hate to admit it, but Carbobar London has become one of those places I recommend when people ask for "somewhere special that doesn't feel pretentious." It manages to be both a destination restaurant and a comfortable local, serving everything from breakfast to late-night cocktails without dropping the ball on quality. Book ahead, especially for weekend brunch - and yes, I'm actually suggesting you book a table at a place that sounds like a protein bar manufacturer. Trust me, I'm as surprised as you are.