Rugby Tavern

Just what London needs - another pub masquerading as a gastropub. The Rugby Tavern in Holborn had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed the threshold. These places are as common as pigeons in the city, each claiming some magical fusion of traditional boozer and culinary hotspot. Usually, it's just mediocre pie and mash with a fancy description and an inflated price tag.

But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my cold, cynical heart.

I'll admit, I walked in ready to hate everything about the Rugby Tavern. The wood-paneled walls, the carefully curated "vintage" photographs - it's like they ordered the "Traditional London Pub Starter Pack" from some hospitality warehouse. And yet... there's something genuinely charming about it. The space feels lived-in rather than manufactured, worn in all the right places.

The bar staff threw me off guard by actually knowing their stuff. Not the rehearsed "let me tell you about our craft beer selection" spiel you get at most places, but genuine knowledge delivered without pretense. When I tried to catch them out with obscure questions about their spirits selection, they responded with the kind of detailed answers that made me feel like an amateur. Irritating, really.

What's even more annoying is that the food is legitimately good. Their black pudding scotch egg (when fresh - and yes, I've heard the complaints about heat lamp incidents) is the kind of thing that makes you question every other scotch egg you've ever eaten. The yolk achieves that perfect state between runny and set that most places don't even attempt. The fish and chips, when they're on their game, rivals anything you'll find in those "best of London" listicles that flood your social media feed.

The cocktail program is where things get truly infuriating. Several of their bartenders, including one called Kai who seems to have a small but vocal fan club, are creating drinks that would be at home in those pretentious Soho establishments where you need a password and a secret handshake to get in. Except here, you can actually sit down, and nobody's wearing suspenders or sporting a waxed mustache.

Let's talk about the pricing because it's actually... reasonable? For central London, at least. You won't need to remortgage your house for dinner and drinks, though you might want to check your bank balance before embarking on a serious exploration of their premium spirits selection. The food prices sit in that sweet spot where you can justify it as "treating yourself" without feeling like you're being actively robbed.

The space works for various occasions, which is part of its annoying versatility. The main bar area maintains proper pub credentials for after-work pints, while the dining space manages to feel separate enough for a proper meal. They've even got outdoor seating for those three days of summer London experiences annually.

Dogs are welcome, which means you'll occasionally have to share space with someone's precious fur baby, but at least it adds to the authentic pub atmosphere. The staff seems to know many of the regular four-legged visitors by name, which is disgustingly endearing.

Look, I wanted to write this place off as just another middling London pub jumping on the gastro bandwagon. But the Rugby Tavern has forced me to admit that sometimes these places get it right. It's nestled in that sweet spot between proper boozer and quality dining establishment, managing to do justice to both traditions.

If you find yourself in Holborn looking for a spot that won't disappoint (and I can't believe I'm saying this), the Rugby Tavern is worth your time. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain. And for God's sake, if Kai's behind the bar, let him make you something off-menu. Just prepare yourself for the crushing realization that you'll never be satisfied with a basic G&T again.