Hope & Anchor

Just what London needs - another gastropub with delusions of grandeur. The Hope & Anchor sits there, all smug with its carefully curated craft beer selection and promises of "elevated pub fare." I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly got stuck when my friend insisted we give it a try. But here's the infuriating part: I can't even properly hate it.

Let's start with the obvious critique - it's trying desperately to be both a proper London boozer and a trendy spot for the Instagram crowd. The kind of place where you'll find both a pensioner nursing a pint and some influencer photographing their artfully arranged fish and chips from sixteen different angles. Yet somehow, against all odds, the Hope & Anchor manages to make this cultural collision work.

The beer garden deserves special mention, if only because it's made me eat my words along with my Sunday roast. It's surprisingly spacious for London, where outdoor space is typically limited to three wobbly tables and a view of passing buses. They've installed massive screens for sports viewing that somehow don't make the place feel like a soulless sports bar. During the Six Nations, it's absolutely heaving with rugby fans, yet mysteriously remains civilized enough that you could bring your grandmother without fear of her pearls being clutched.

Inside, the pub has managed to maintain its historic charm while sneaking in modern touches that don't make you want to scream "gentrification!" at the ceiling. The original woodwork remains intact, and they've resisted the urge to plaster the walls with those insufferable motivational quotes that seem to reproduce like rabbits in other renovated London pubs.

The food menu is... well, it's actually good. There, I said it. And I'm as shocked as anyone. While the prices sit firmly in the "this better be worth it" category, the kitchen delivers with irritating consistency. The steak is properly cooked (a miracle in pub terms), and the chicken wings manage to be both crispy and meaty - a combination that seems to elude most London kitchens. They even accommodate off-menu requests without acting like you've asked them to perform emergency surgery.

The staff, curse them, are genuinely friendly without that forced cheeriness that makes you want to hide under your table. They know their beers, they know their food, and they somehow remember regulars' names without making it feel creepy. It's the kind of service that makes you forget you're in London, where traditional pub hospitality often means being grunted at by a bartender who'd rather be anywhere else.

Let's talk about the clientele because it's a fascinating mix. City workers loosen their ties next to local residents, while dogs (yes, it's dog-friendly) receive treats from the bar staff. The atmosphere somehow manages to be both lively and laid-back, which shouldn't be possible according to the laws of pub physics.

The drinks selection is extensive enough to be interesting without crossing into pretentious territory. Yes, they have craft beers that sound like they were named by a random word generator, but they also keep proper London Pride on tap. The wine list won't make sommeliers weep with joy, but it's perfectly serviceable, and the cocktails are surprisingly well-executed for a pub.

During busy periods, especially when there's sport on, the place can get packed tighter than the Central Line during rush hour. But they've got a reservation system that actually works, and the staff somehow maintains order even when it's three-deep at the bar. The only real complaint is that it can get a bit warm inside during summer evenings - but show me a London pub that doesn't.

Look, I wanted to dismiss the Hope & Anchor as just another mediocre London pub jumping on the gastropub bandwagon. But it's managed to do something genuinely impressive: create a space that serves both its local community and visitors without losing its soul in the process. If you're in this part of London and looking for a pub that actually delivers on its promises, you'll find me here - probably complaining about how I can't find anything to complain about. Just don't tell anyone I recommended it. I have a reputation to maintain.