Claret & Ale

Just what London needs - another pub with a pretentious wine reference in its name. Claret & Ale sounds like what happens when a gastropub has an identity crisis, yet here I am, reluctantly admitting that this unassuming corner of the city might actually be onto something.

Let's address the elephant in the room: Claret & Ale in London isn't trying to reinvent the wheel. It's a pub. Just a pub. In a city drowning in establishments calling themselves "craft beer emporiums" and "botanical gin experiences," there's something almost revolutionary about that simplicity. The audacity of just being a decent place to drink.

I walked in expecting the usual London pub tableau - sticky floors, a sullen bartender, and that peculiar smell that suggests the carpets remember the smoking ban with fond nostalgia. Instead, I found myself in what can only be described as... well, a proper pub. The kind that makes you wonder if you've somehow stepped through a temporal portal to when pubs actually cared about their beer rather than their Instagram aesthetic.

Speaking of beer, their rotating selection of five ales deserves mention, if only because they've managed to curate them with the kind of thoughtfulness usually reserved for wine lists at places charging triple the price. The house Palmer's IPA, which I fully expected to dismiss as another mediocre attempt at craft credibility, turned out to be irritatingly good. It's the kind of beer that makes you reconsider your cynicism, which is frankly quite inconvenient for a professional critic.

The staff, contrary to the London standard of practiced indifference, actually know their stuff. It's almost offensive how genuine their enthusiasm is when discussing their latest tap selections. They've managed to strike that elusive balance between knowledgeable and approachable, without descending into the dreaded realm of beer snobbery. I'm still not entirely sure how they've achieved this miracle.

Size-wise, Claret & Ale is cozy - estate agent speak for "small" - but they've embraced it rather than trying to squeeze in unnecessary tables or, God forbid, a DJ booth. It's reminiscent of those neighborhood pubs that used to exist before London decided everything needed to be a concept venue with a side of sourdough.

The prices? Here's where I expected to find my gotcha moment. But no - they've had the absolute cheek to keep things reasonable. In a city where a pint can cost more than a small car payment, finding properly kept ale at these prices feels like stumbling upon a unicorn that also does tax returns. It's almost suspicious how affordable it is, making me wonder if there's some sort of catch. There isn't. I've looked.

They're dog-friendly too, which normally sends me running for the hills (I've seen too many "fur baby" situations go horribly wrong in London pubs), but somehow they've managed to maintain a balance. The four-legged patrons seem as well-behaved as their two-legged companions, which is saying something.

For sports fans, they show the matches without letting it dominate the atmosphere - a feat of social engineering that deserves some kind of award. How they've managed to create a space where both match-day enthusiasts and casual drinkers can coexist peacefully is beyond my understanding of London pub dynamics.

The takeout option for their ales is a nice touch, though I'm still trying to find fault with it. Perhaps it makes it too easy to enjoy their selection at home? No, that's reaching even for me.

Look, I didn't want to like Claret & Ale. I really didn't. London has enough pubs that get by on mediocrity and location. But this place has committed the cardinal sin of actually being good at what it does. It's a proper pub, in London, in 2025, that remembers what pubs are supposed to be about.

If you must insist on drinking somewhere in London that doesn't require a second mortgage and actually cares about the quality of what they're serving, you could do far worse than Claret & Ale. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain, and they've already damaged it enough by being inexplicably competent at their job.