Greenwich Tavern

Just what London needs - another pub claiming to be a proper Greenwich tavern. The Greenwich Tavern in London sits there smugly at the edge of the Royal Park, probably banking on tourists too exhausted from their meridian-straddling photos to venture further for sustenance. I approached with the enthusiasm of a tax audit, fully prepared to add it to my mental list of mediocre establishments trading on location alone.

But damn them for making me eat my words along with what turned out to be an annoyingly good Sunday roast.

Let's address the elephant in the room - yes, the Greenwich Tavern occupies prime real estate next to the park gates. And yes, they could probably serve microwaved ready meals and still turn a profit from the location alone. Which makes it all the more irritating that they've actually bothered to create something worth visiting.

The interior strikes that delicate balance between traditional pub charm and modern comfort that so many venues butcher. Dark woods and brass fixtures provide the expected pub aesthetics, while the mezzanine level offers what I grudgingly admit are rather lovely views over the park entrance. They've managed to avoid both the sticky-carpeted time capsule feel of many London pubs and the soulless modernization that plagues others.

The food - and it pains me to say this - is significantly better than it needs to be. The Sunday roast (which seems to have developed something of a local following) features a Yorkshire pudding the size of a small nation, and unlike most oversized Yorkies, this one's actually worth eating. The pork belly arrives with crackling that achieves that perfect shattering crispness, while the meat beneath maintains its succulence. Even the vegetables show evidence of actual cooking skill rather than the usual afterthought treatment.

Their drink selection presents another unwelcome surprise. Beyond the expected assembly of mass-market lagers, they maintain a rotating selection of local craft beers and a wine list that suggests someone with actual knowledge was consulted. The cocktail menu, while not revolutionary, offers competently executed classics that don't require a second mortgage to enjoy.

Service manages to hit that sweet spot between attentive and overbearing - a rare achievement in tourist-heavy Greenwich. The staff appear to actually know the menu, and more surprisingly, seem to care about what they're serving. I found myself making mental notes of their food recommendations, then feeling mildly annoyed when they turned out to be spot-on.

For families (if you must), they offer a children's menu that rises above the usual chicken nugget purgatory. The outdoor seating area provides a convenient escape route for parents of particularly vocal offspring, though do be prepared to defend your chips from the local pigeons, who appear to have advanced degrees in food theft.

Pricing sits squarely in the "fair enough" category - not cheap by any means, but given the location and quality, you won't feel like you're being charged extra for breathing the same air as the Prime Meridian. Main courses hover around the London pub average, with the Sunday roast offering particularly good value, assuming you can finish the Yorkshire pudding before it achieves sentience.

So here I am, a reluctant convert to the charms of the Greenwich Tavern in London. Whether you're a local seeking a reliable pub that hasn't sacrificed its soul to the tourist trade, or a visitor who's just discovered that standing with one foot in each hemisphere isn't actually that entertaining, you'll find something to appreciate here. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation for cynicism to maintain.

Book ahead for Sunday lunch unless you enjoy the disappointment of watching others enjoy their roasts while you wait. And if you're planning a visit during peak tourist season, consider the mezzanine - it's amazing how much more tolerable tourists become when viewed from above.