Kings Head Chingford

Just what London needs - another pub in Chingford claiming to be the next great local. The Kings Head Chingford sits there with its predictably regal name, practically daring you to be underwhelmed. And yet, against my better judgment and years of cultivated cynicism, I find myself reluctantly defending this place to friends who haven't been.

Let's get the obvious out of the way - it's a pub in London, not the second coming of gastropub Jesus. But there's something oddly charming about how the Kings Head Chingford refuses to put on airs. The prices won't make your wallet weep, which immediately had me suspicious. In my experience, affordability and quality mix about as well as craft beer and Sunny Delight.

But here's where my carefully constructed wall of skepticism began to crack. The beer is actually properly cold - a miracle in London where some pubs seem to think room temperature is a personality trait. The garden area, when London's perpetually moody weather permits, manages to be both spacious and intimate. It's like they accidentally got something right while trying to do something else entirely.

The staff, infuriatingly, are competent. When they made a mistake with my order (because perfection would be too much to ask for), they not only fixed it quickly but threw in a round of drinks. I wanted to be properly outraged, but it's hard to maintain righteous indignation while sipping a free pint. Well played, Kings Head, well played.

What truly confounds me is how they've managed to create a space that works for both the after-work crowd and the weekend warriors. The main bar area strikes that delicate balance between "cozy pub" and "actually being able to find somewhere to sit." It's like they studied the ancient art of pub feng shui, though I'm sure it was completely accidental.

The dog-friendly policy means you'll occasionally share space with four-legged patrons, which somehow adds to the charm rather than detracting from it. I've seen everything from pristinely groomed poodles to mutts that look like they've just escaped from a hedge, all coexisting peacefully while their owners sip their reasonably priced drinks.

Speaking of drinks - their selection is surprisingly decent for a place that could probably get away with serving three types of lager and calling it a day. The wine list won't win any awards, but it won't make you question your life choices either. And the cocktails? Let's just say they're better than they have any right to be at these prices.

Now, about the food - it's a hit-or-miss affair, but when it hits, it hits surprisingly well. Yes, there are occasional mishaps with the chips, and sometimes the kitchen seems to interpret "medium-rare" as a philosophical concept rather than a cooking instruction. But when they get it right (which is more often than I'd like to admit), it's proper pub grub that satisfies that peculiarly British craving for comfort food.

The parking situation deserves a special mention because finding free parking in London is about as rare as finding a politician who keeps their promises. Yet here we are - actual parking spaces that won't require you to remortgage your house or perform complex geometric calculations to fit your car into a space clearly designed for a motorcycle.

They take cards, support contactless payment, and haven't succumbed to the "cash only" pretension that some pubs wear like a badge of honor. It's almost like they're running a proper business in the 21st century. The audacity.

Look, I didn't want to like the Kings Head Chingford. I really didn't. But much like that friend who keeps making terrible puns - it's grown on me. It's not perfect, but its imperfections are somehow part of its charm. If you're in this corner of London and need a pub that won't destroy your bank account or your faith in humanity, you could do worse. Much worse. And yes, that's as close to a ringing endorsement as you're going to get from me. Make of that what you will.