Cutty Sark

Just what London needed - another pub claiming historical significance while serving mediocre ales to tourists who've wandered too far from the Greenwich Market. At least, that's what I expected when dragged to the Cutty Sark pub in London's maritime district. Named after the famous clipper ship nearby (because of course it is), this riverside establishment seemed destined to be another tourist trap trading on location rather than quality.

I'll admit, grudgingly, that I was wrong. Not immediately - my first impression walking up to the Cutty Sark's enviable Thames-side location was still heavy with skepticism. The building has that calculated ye-olde-pub aesthetic that usually makes my eyes roll so hard they might get stuck. But something about this place... damn it.

Maybe it's the way the evening light hits the river through those absurdly large windows, casting the whole place in a golden glow that makes even the most hardened London cynic (me) pause mid-sneer. Or perhaps it's the surprisingly competent staff who actually seem to know their craft beers from their commercial swill - a rarity in these parts where most bartenders think IPA is a tax form.

The food menu initially reads like every other gastropub in London's orbit - yes, there's a burger, and yes, there's fish and chips. But here's where things get irritatingly impressive: they actually execute these classics with finesse. The Sunday roast, which I approached with the enthusiasm of a cat facing a bath, turned out to be something of a religious experience. The Yorkshire pudding was so perfectly risen it could have been used as architectural reference material.

Let's talk about that riverside terrace, shall we? In theory, it should be unbearable - prime selfie territory for tourists recreating their best "I'm in London!" moments. Yet somehow, even during peak hours, it maintains an atmosphere that's actually... pleasant. There, I said it. The view across to Canary Wharf provides a striking contrast of old and new London, assuming you can snag one of the coveted outdoor tables. And you can bring your dog, which explains why half of Greenwich's pet population seems to end up here on weekend afternoons.

Inside, the pub spreads across multiple levels, each with its own character. The ground floor maintains traditional pub vibes without crossing into theme-park territory, while upstairs offers more formal dining space. The function room upstairs has hosted everything from corporate events to wedding receptions, though I'd rather drink a pint of Thames water than admit how charming it looks when properly decorated.

The prices sit firmly in the "London pub" category - which is to say, you'll wince slightly at paying £6+ for a pint, but then remember you're sitting in a prime location with a view that estate agents would sacrifice their firstborn for. The food prices are similarly London-standard, though the quality actually justifies the cost, much to my chagrin.

They take cards (including contactless), which is fortunate since you'll likely stay longer than planned. The pub's proximity to the actual Cutty Sark ship, Greenwich Market, and the Royal Observatory makes it dangerously easy to turn "just one quick pint" into an entire afternoon affair. I've done it. Multiple times. Against my better judgment.

What truly sets the Cutty Sark apart from London's endless parade of riverside pubs is its ability to balance tourist appeal with local charm. It would be so easy for a pub in this location to coast on views alone, serving microwaved meals and flat beer to one-time visitors. Instead, they've created something that keeps both camera-wielding tourists and jaded locals like myself coming back.

Look, I didn't want to like the Cutty Sark. I really didn't. But after several visits (purely for research purposes, obviously), I've got to concede that this place knows what it's doing. If you find yourself in Greenwich - whether hunting for maritime history or just escaping central London's chaos - you might as well give in and grab a table. Just don't blame me when you end up staying for another round. Or three.