Plough

Just what London needs - another pub claiming to be a cut above the rest. The Plough in Enfield positions itself as some sort of gastropub-meets-neighborhood-watering-hole hybrid, and I arrived fully prepared to roll my eyes at yet another mediocre attempt at elevating pub grub. Spoiler alert: I'm irritated by how much I actually enjoyed it.

Let's address the elephant in the room - The Plough London isn't trying to revolutionize the wheel here. It's a pub. It serves drinks. It serves food. Stop the presses. But somewhere between my third bite of surprisingly competent Peruvian-inspired pork belly and my first sip of a perfectly kept craft beer, I found my carefully cultivated cynicism beginning to crack.

The space itself strikes that infuriatingly perfect balance between traditional pub coziness and modern sensibilities. Dark wood meets clean lines, while the generous garden area provides an escape from London's perpetual gray without feeling like some contrived Instagram backdrop. They've managed to preserve enough of the old-school pub atmosphere to keep the regulars happy while attracting a newer crowd that probably knows what burrata is.

What truly forces me to give credit where it's due is the kitchen's apparent refusal to phone it in. When I saw "Peruvian bar food" on the menu, I braced myself for some half-hearted attempt at fusion that would insult both British and Peruvian cuisines simultaneously. Instead, I found myself faced with genuinely well-executed dishes that showed both respect for tradition and a willingness to play with flavors. The chorizo had actual character, the house-made slaw wasn't an afterthought, and the picante sauce packed legitimate heat rather than the usual dumbed-down spicing.

The beer selection deserves its own reluctant paragraph of praise. Rather than sticking to the safe standards, The Plough rotates through an interesting selection of craft options. Yes, you can still get your usual suspects, but the presence of breweries like Tiny Rebel shows someone behind the bar actually gives a damn about what they're serving. The wine list is... present. Let's leave it at that.

Service manages to hit that sweet spot between attentive and overbearing, though during peak Sunday roast hours they can get a bit overwhelmed. But show me a London pub that doesn't struggle when the roast crowd descends en masse, and I'll show you a unicorn riding a penny-farthing across Tower Bridge.

Speaking of Sunday roasts - they're good. Not life-changing, but solid enough to justify fighting for a table. The portions could be more generous, but what's on the plate is executed well. The Yorkshire puddings aren't just for show, and the gravy actually tastes like it's seen the inside of a kitchen rather than just a powder packet.

The price point sits squarely in the "reasonable for North London" category. You won't feel robbed, but you might want to check your bank balance before ordering that third craft beer. The food prices are fair for what you're getting, especially considering the quality of ingredients and preparation.

The amenities tick all the expected boxes - dog-friendly (because heaven forbid Londoners can't bring their four-legged overlords everywhere), good for groups (if you can snag enough space), and equipped with both indoor and outdoor seating. They take cards, support contactless payment, and - miracle of miracles - actually have parking options that won't require you to remortgage your home.

Here's the truly annoying part - The Plough London has managed to create something that actually works. It's a proper local that doesn't feel stuck in the past, a gastropub that hasn't disappeared up its own pretensions, and a place that genuinely adds something to Enfield's dining and drinking scene. The fact that they've done this while maintaining a welcoming atmosphere for both old-school pub-goers and the craft beer crowd is, frankly, showing off.

So fine, The Plough, you win. You're worth the trip to Enfield. Just don't let it go to your head - we Londoners have enough inflated egos to deal with already. Book ahead for Sunday roast, bring your dog if you must, and prepare to be annoyingly impressed despite your best efforts not to be.