Spit and Sawdust

Just what London needs - another pub with a try-hard name like Spit and Sawdust trying to convince us it's authentically gritty while serving craft IPAs to tech bros. I approached with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for dental appointments, fully prepared to pen another scathing review about the death of proper British boozers.

But damn it all if this place hasn't gone and made me eat my words along with some surprisingly excellent tacos.

Let's address the elephant in the room - yes, Spit and Sawdust sounds like it was named by a committee trying too hard to capture some mythical East London edginess. Yet somehow, this London pub manages to wear its carefully cultivated roughness with surprising authenticity. The multi-level space feels lived-in rather than artificially distressed, like your favorite leather jacket rather than the pre-ripped jeans at Urban Outfitters.

The beer selection would make any self-respecting hop head weep with joy, though I'm loathe to admit it. Their rotating craft selection shows someone actually knows their stuff rather than just jumping on the IPA bandwagon. And while I fully intended to mock their cocktail program, the bartenders demonstrate the kind of expertise that makes you forgive their occasional man-bun or ironic mustache.

But here's where things get truly irritating - they've gone and added legitimately good Mexican food to the mix. I was ready with a whole paragraph about cultural appropriation and bastardized street food. Instead, I found myself face-deep in birria tacos that transported me straight to Tijuana (minus the questionable life choices that usually accompany such trips). Their Wednesday taco special at £2.50 each is the kind of deal that makes you suspicious, until you realize they're actually trying to build community rather than just maximize profits.

The space itself is annoyingly well-thought-out. The roof terrace provides views that almost make you forget you're in London's concrete jungle. The beer garden is actually a garden rather than three sad picnic tables next to a bin. They've even added shuffleboard and board games, because apparently, they're determined to make you stay longer than you planned.

Dog-friendly without becoming a canine circus, group-friendly without devolving into chaos, and clean without feeling sterile - it's like they're deliberately trying to rob critics of their usual ammunition. Even the live music and comedy nights show actual curation rather than just letting anyone with a guitar and a dream take the stage.

The prices sit in that sweet spot where you can't quite complain but also can't quite forget you're in London. You'll drop a decent amount on craft beers and tacos, but at least you won't need to remortgage your flat for a night out. The payment system accepts everything short of crypto (though give them time), and the staff actually seem to enjoy being there, which is suspiciously un-London-like.

What's most infuriating about Spit and Sawdust London is how it manages to be both a proper pub and a modern venue without sacrificing the soul of either. It's the kind of place where you can find both your craft beer enthusiast friend and your traditional bitter-drinking uncle feeling equally at home. The locals have claimed it without making it unwelcoming to newcomers, which is some kind of black magic in this city.

Look, I don't want to like Spit and Sawdust. I really don't. But much like that friend who keeps dating someone you're determined to hate until you actually meet them, this place forces you to reconsider your prejudices. Whether you're after a casual pint, a taco fix, or a night of entertainment that doesn't involve staring at your phone, you'll find it here. And yes, I'm as annoyed about recommending it as you probably are about adding another spot to your "must-visit" list. But here we are. Just go, before it gets too popular and I have to start hating it again.