Old Ship

Just what London needs - another riverside pub claiming to be the city's oldest watering hole. The Old Ship in Hammersmith certainly plays all the expected notes: centuries-old timber beams, Thames views, and enough maritime memorabilia to outfit a small museum. I approached with the weary resignation of someone who's seen far too many "authentic London pubs" turned into Instagram backdrops for tourists clutching overpriced pints.

And yet.

There's something about this weathered old dame that gets under your skin. Maybe it's the way the afternoon light streams through those ancient windows, casting golden patches across worn wooden floors that have supported countless feet since the 1700s. Or perhaps it's how the building seems to lean ever so slightly toward the river, as if straining to hear centuries of Thames tales.

Let's talk about the Sunday roast, since that's what everyone comes for anyway. The Yorkshire puddings are the size of small boats - and unlike many places that use size to compensate for quality, these are actually good. Crisp edges giving way to properly eggy centers that soak up gravy like they were born to it. The beef (when they get it right) arrives properly pink, though you might need to be very specific about your desired doneness unless you fancy your meat still mooing.

The fish and chips deserve mention, if only because they've somehow managed to avoid the dreaded tourist-trap mediocrity that plagues most London pubs. The batter actually crunches - imagine that - and the fish inside remains flaky and moist. The chips are proper chips, not those anemic twigs some places try to pass off as potato.

What really caught me off guard was the grilled prawn toast. It's the kind of fusion-but-not-really dish that usually makes me roll my eyes so hard I risk a sprain. But damn if it doesn't work, hitting that sweet spot between pub comfort and something more ambitious. The mushroom toast, too, proves they're not just coasting on river views and history.

The prices sit in that frustrating middle ground where you can't quite call it a bargain but can't really complain either. You're paying partly for the location, obviously - those Thames views don't come cheap. But at least you're getting decent food along with your scenery, which is more than I can say for some of the Old Ship's rivals.

Speaking of views, try to snag a table by the windows or, weather permitting, in the riverside area. Yes, you'll be competing with every other person who's had the same idea, but it's worth the effort. The interior is perfectly fine, but this is one of those rare occasions where the Instagram crowd has actually got it right - the river view is the money shot.

The staff manage that peculiarly British blend of efficiency and casual friendliness, though service can get a bit stretched when the place is heaving (which is most Sundays). They know their beers, thankfully, and won't judge you too harshly for ordering a spritz instead of ale, even if their eyes do betray a flicker of disappointment.

Here's the thing about the Old Ship: it shouldn't really work anymore. It's the kind of place that could easily coast on its history and location, serving mediocre food to camera-wielding tourists who'll never return. Instead, it's managed to walk that fine line between preserving its character and actually giving a damn about what comes out of the kitchen.

Look, I'm not saying it's going to revolutionize your understanding of British pub cuisine. But if you're in Hammersmith and looking for a proper pub that hasn't completely sold its soul to the tourist devil, the Old Ship is worth your time. Book ahead for Sunday lunch, be specific about how you want your meat cooked, and yes, fine, take that riverside photo for your social media. Just make sure you put your phone down long enough to actually enjoy what's turned out to be - and I can't believe I'm saying this - a rather decent London pub.