Queen's Arms

Just what London needs - another gastropub trying to convince us it's reinvented the wheel. The Queen's Arms in Walthamstow Village presents itself as the answer to a question nobody asked, yet here I am, reluctantly admitting that this place might actually be worth your time.

Let's address the elephant in the room: yes, the Queen's Arms London has undergone that all-too-familiar transformation from proper boozer to "elevated dining experience." Usually, this means goodbye character, hello overpriced small plates. But wait - don't roll your eyes just yet. Something different is happening here.

I arrived determined to hate it. The clean, bright interior should have been the first red flag - pubs are meant to be dimly lit caves where you can hide from responsibility, aren't they? But the space somehow manages to feel welcoming rather than sterile. It's like they actually considered the radical notion that people might want to see what they're eating without using their phone's flashlight.

The first crack in my cynical armor appeared with the arrival of their chicken schnitzel. Now, schnitzel isn't exactly cutting-edge cuisine - it's literally just meat that's been beaten flat and fried. But good lord, they've done something magical here. The coating shatters with satisfying crispness, giving way to perfectly succulent chicken within. The accompanying cedar salad (yes, I'm as surprised as you are that I'm praising a salad) provides a sharp, fresh counterpoint that actually makes sense.

Then there are the chips. I've consumed enough mediocre pub chips to build a life-sized replica of Big Ben, but these... these are different. Crisp exterior, fluffy interior - the holy grail of chip perfection that so many places promise but few deliver. They're the kind of chips that make you forget you're supposed to be sharing them, leading to awkward fork battles with your dining companion.

The drinks selection deserves mention, if only because they've managed to strike that delicate balance between "proper pub" and "place where you can order something other than warm lager." Two rotating cask ales keep the CAMRA crowd happy, while a thoughtful wine list prevents your oenophile friend from having an existential crisis.

The service, much like London weather, can be unpredictable. Some staff members treat you like a long-lost friend, while others seem to have learned customer service from a particularly grumpy cat. But even this inconsistency feels authentically pub-like rather than corporate-sanitized.

What's particularly infuriating (in a good way) is the pricing. It sits in that sweet spot where you can't quite complain it's expensive, but you're also not suspicious about how they're making it so cheap. Main courses hover in the "I'll have to check my bank balance but I won't cry" range, and portion sizes suggest they actually want you to leave satisfied rather than stopping at Burger King on the way home.

The outdoor space deserves special mention - both the front pavement seating and the rear garden offer refuge when the indoor temperature reaches "British pub in summer" levels. It's particularly pleasant for dog owners, as four-legged friends are welcome (and don't worry, they've managed to avoid the "doggy pub" chaos that plagues similar establishments).

Located about ten minutes' walk from Walthamstow Central Station, the Queen's Arms has become something I never expected: a pub I actually recommend to people I like. It's retained enough of its pub soul to feel authentic while elevating the food beyond typical pub grub mediocrity.

Fine, I'll say it - the Queen's Arms London has won me over. Book a table, especially for Sunday lunch (though be warned - the apparent lack of cauliflower cheese has caused at least one minor uprising). Just don't all rush there at once. I still need somewhere to hide when deadlines loom, and I've grown rather attached to those chips.