Tapping The Admiral

Just what London needs - another pub with a quirky nautical name and questionable historical ties. Tapping The Admiral in London's Kentish Town claims some tenuous connection to Lord Nelson's preserved corpse being stored in brandy, which the crew supposedly sipped through macaroni straws. How charmingly macabre. I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly got stuck.

But here's the infuriating thing about this place - it's actually good. Really good. The kind of pub that makes you question your carefully cultivated cynicism about London's drinking establishments. Nestled between Camden and Kentish Town like some architectural holdout against gentrification, it's managed to maintain that increasingly rare species of atmosphere: genuine pub charm.

The first crack in my professional skepticism appeared when I noticed the rotating selection of eight real ales. Not the usual suspects you find at chain pubs trying to appear craft-conscious, but properly kept cask ales that would make even the most pedantic CAMRA member grudgingly nod in approval. The fact that they've won North London CAMRA's Pub of the Year multiple times isn't just empty posturing - though I tried very hard to find fault with their cellar management, my pint was annoyingly perfect.

The space itself reads like a naval museum curator's fever dream, but somehow works. The nautical memorabilia could easily veer into theme-park territory, but there's an authenticity to the raggedly elegant collection of maritime bits and bobs. The old Truman's sign above the fireplace isn't trying too hard to be vintage - it just is. Even the bunting seems to have earned its place through years of faithful service rather than interior designer decree.

Then there's Nelson the pub cat, who I'm contractually obligated to mention because he's become something of a local celebrity. Unlike most pub cats who regard customers with barely concealed contempt, Nelson actually seems to enjoy the company of humans, which is suspicious for a feline but oddly fitting for this place.

The U-shaped bar creates natural conversation pockets, and the staff manage that delicate balance between friendly and overbearing that so many venues get wrong. They'll chat if you're inclined but won't force their life story on you if you're not. The beer garden out back is another pleasant surprise - partially covered for London's predictably unpredictable weather and somehow avoiding the feeling of sitting in a converted parking lot that plagues so many pub gardens.

The Caribbean food offering from Vibe N Go is a welcome departure from standard pub fare, though I approached it with the skepticism it deserved. But much like everything else here, it proved irritatingly competent. Sunday roasts are available for traditionalists, but the regular menu provides a more interesting culinary journey.

Price-wise, it sits in that sweet spot where you can't quite complain but aren't being robbed blind either. £6.20 for an Asahi might raise eyebrows in some parts of the country, but for London it's practically charitable. The real ales are priced fairly enough to encourage exploration of the full range, which I absolutely didn't do in the name of thorough research.

What's most vexing about Tapping The Admiral is how it manages to be both a proper local's pub and welcoming to newcomers - a balance that most venues either don't attempt or spectacularly fumble. The regulars don't give you the death stare when you walk in, and the staff won't treat you like an inconvenience for not knowing their life story.

Located just a stumble from Kentish Town West station, it's annoyingly convenient for after-work drinks or weekend sessions. And despite my best efforts to maintain professional detachment, I find myself grudgingly recommending it to friends, though I usually add "but don't tell too many people" - not because I'm trying to keep it exclusive, but because some things in London deserve to stay exactly as they are. Damn it.