Queen Adelaide

Just what London needs - another pub with delusions of grandeur. The Queen Adelaide sits there in all its carefully curated "authentic British pub" glory, practically begging to be dismissed as yet another mediocre watering hole riding the coattails of its regal namesake. I walked in fully prepared to hate everything about it. Spoiler alert: I failed miserably at maintaining my cynicism.

Look, I've been to enough London pubs to know the drill. They either try too hard to be traditional and end up feeling like a theme park attraction, or they go full "gastro" and forget they're supposed to be, you know, an actual pub. The Queen Adelaide somehow manages to thread this needle with irritating competence.

First, let's address the elephant in the room - those jerk dumplings everyone's been raving about. I rolled my eyes so hard at the concept I nearly gave myself a headache. Fusion food in a British pub? Please. Then I tried them. Damn it all to hell, they're magnificent. The perfectly calibrated heat, the tender wrapper, the depth of flavor that has no business existing in a casual pub setting... I'm not saying I've considered ordering them for takeaway on my way home from reviewing other establishments, but I'm not not saying that either.

The space itself presents another annoying success story. The Queen Adelaide has managed to preserve that essential London pub coziness while somehow avoiding the claustrophobic stuffiness that plagues so many of its contemporaries. The pool table doesn't feel crammed in as an afterthought, and the outdoor seating area actually makes you forget you're in the middle of a city that's usually trying its best to suffocate you with exhaust fumes.

Let's talk about Nadia, shall we? In a city where genuine warmth from service staff is about as common as a reasonable rent price, she's almost suspiciously delightful. I've visited multiple times (purely for thorough research purposes, obviously), and her consistently excellent service makes me wonder if she's actually a highly sophisticated hospitality robot. If she is, we should immediately start mass production.

The drinks selection is... frustratingly well-curated. The beer list rotates frequently enough to keep things interesting without falling into craft beer snobbery. Their cocktails display an understanding of both classic techniques and modern tastes that I wanted to dismiss as pretentious but couldn't. The wine list won't win any awards, but it's perfectly adequate for a pub setting and priced fairly enough to make you forget you're drinking in London.

The rest of the menu continues the theme of being better than it has any right to be. Yes, you'll find your pub classics - the fish and chips won't have you writing sonnets, but they're reliably good. It's the smaller touches that elevate things: house-made sauces that actually taste house-made, sides that feel considered rather than obligatory, and portion sizes that suggest someone in the kitchen actually cares about food costs without being stingy.

For those keeping score at home: they take cards (including contactless), the bathrooms are clean enough to use without requiring a hazmat suit, and there's street parking if you're brave enough to drive in London. They're dog-friendly too, which means you might have to share space with someone's precious fur baby, but I've yet to witness any canine chaos.

Here's the truly infuriating part about the Queen Adelaide: it manages to be both a proper local's pub and a destination worth crossing town for. The prices sit firmly in the "reasonable for London" category - which means you'll wince slightly at the bill but won't need to remortgage your house for a night out.

Fine. I admit it. The Queen Adelaide has earned its stellar reputation, and I hate them a little bit for making me write that sentence. If you're in London and looking for a pub that delivers on all fronts without making a fuss about it, just go. Book a table if you're planning to eat - the secret's out about those dumplings, and I refuse to be held responsible for your disappointment if you can't get in. Just save me one order, would you? For research purposes, of course.