Duke of Cambridge

Just what London needs - another gastropub claiming to revolutionize the humble Sunday roast. The Duke of Cambridge in London's Islington had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed the threshold. A "conscious dining experience" they call it. How terribly on-brand for the neighborhood. I was fully prepared to write this off as yet another mediocre pub riding the wave of gentrification, serving underwhelming fare to people more interested in Instagram than actual sustenance.

Then something annoying happened. It turned out to be... good. Actually good. Not "good for London pub food" good, but legitimately, irritatingly good.

Let's start with the Sunday roast, since that's what everyone bangs on about at the Duke of Cambridge. The beef (when they haven't run out - and they do run out, so book ahead like a rational human being) achieves that mythical balance between pink and properly done that so many pubs fumble. The roast potatoes - and I'm genuinely bitter about having to praise them - manage the holy trinity of crispy exterior, fluffy interior, and proper seasoning. Even their vegetarian wellington, which I ordered purely to find fault with, betrayed my worst intentions by being satisfyingly hearty without feeling like a punishment for avoiding meat.

The space itself refuses to conform to my predetermined narrative of pretentious awfulness. Instead of the sterile, Instagram-ready interior I expected, the Duke of Cambridge maintains enough of its traditional pub character to feel authentic while still being clean enough that you won't need a tetanus shot after using the facilities. The original Victorian features remain intact, though someone has clearly given them a good scrub - probably the same person who decided that natural light should actually be allowed to penetrate the premises.

The staff, frustratingly, make it hard to maintain my professional cynicism. They seem to genuinely care whether you're enjoying yourself, which is both refreshing and somewhat suspicious in London. They know their menu, can actually make recommendations based on real knowledge rather than just pointing at the most expensive option, and - most shockingly - appear to enjoy their jobs. I'm still investigating whether they're all highly trained actors.

Their drinks selection commits the cardinal sin of being both interesting and reasonably priced. The beer list rotates frequently enough to keep things interesting without venturing into the realm of obscure-for-obscurity's-sake, and their wine list won't require a second mortgage. The cocktails are crafted with evident care, though I maintain that anything served in a mason jar is a cry for help.

Dogs are welcome, which initially seemed like a recipe for chaos but somehow works. The four-legged patrons are generally better behaved than some of the two-legged ones I've encountered in other Islington establishments. They even keep water bowls and treats behind the bar, a touch that seems calculated to warm even my cold, critical heart.

The pricing sits in that sweet spot where you can't quite complain but still feel compelled to check your bank balance the next morning. Main courses hover around the "well, I suppose that's what things cost now" mark, while the Sunday roast prices are just reasonable enough to prevent full-scale revolution in the streets.

Let's talk location because the Duke of Cambridge has managed to position itself perfectly for both locals and those willing to make the journey. It's just far enough from the main Islington thoroughfare to avoid the worst of the weekend crowds, but close enough that you won't need to pack provisions for the journey. Street parking exists if you're feeling optimistic about your luck, though public transport is probably the wiser choice.

I hate to admit it, but the Duke of Cambridge in London has earned its reputation. It's managed to walk the line between tradition and modernity without falling into the usual traps of either. Yes, you should book ahead. Yes, you'll probably have to wait a bit longer than ideal during peak times. And yes, damn it all, you should absolutely go anyway. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.