The Castle

Just what London needs - another pub calling itself The Castle. Because apparently, we're short on establishments trying to recreate ye olde English charm while serving gastro-pub fare to tourists who think they're getting an authentic experience. And yet, here I am, reluctantly admitting that The Castle in London has managed to avoid most of the pitfalls that typically make me roll my eyes at such ventures.

Let's address the elephant in the room - the Sunday roast. I arrived fully prepared to pen a scathing critique about yet another mediocre attempt at Britain's favorite weekend tradition. Instead, I found myself having to restructure my entire review because, damn it, they actually know what they're doing. The beef (when available) is cooked with the kind of respect usually reserved for fine dining establishments, falling apart with the mere suggestion of a fork's presence. The roast potatoes - typically the death knell of pub kitchens - emerge triumphantly golden and crispy, as if they've been personally coached by someone's grandmother.

The Castle's interior walks that precarious line between "cozy pub" and "Instagram backdrop" without tumbling too far in either direction. Yes, there's exposed brickwork and those inevitable vintage photographs of London that every pub seems legally required to display, but it somehow feels less contrived than most. The lighting manages to be dim enough for atmosphere while still allowing you to actually see what you're eating - a concept that seems to elude many of their competitors.

The staff, surprisingly, don't appear to be dying inside - a refreshing change from the typical London pub experience. They actually seem to enjoy their jobs, which initially made me suspicious but eventually proved genuine. There's an easy camaraderie among them that creates an atmosphere that's actually... pleasant. I know, I'm as shocked as you are.

Their drinks selection deserves mention, if only because they've managed to stock a bar that caters to both the "I only drink craft beer" crowd and the "just give me a proper pint" traditionalists. The wine list won't win awards, but it's thoughtfully curated enough to complement the food without requiring a second mortgage.

The garden space is another unexpected triumph. While most London pubs offer outdoor seating that amounts to huddling next to traffic while clutching your pint, The Castle has created something rather magical with their illuminated garden. It's the kind of space that makes you forget you're in the middle of a metropolis, at least until a siren wails past.

Let's talk prices because, well, it's London. You're looking at standard Zone 1 rates - neither a bargain nor daylight robbery. A Sunday roast with all the trimmings and a bottle of decent red will set you back about what you'd expect, but at least here you won't leave feeling like you've been mugged. The quality-to-price ratio actually leans in your favor, which in central London is about as rare as a quiet tube ride.

They take bookings (praise be), accept all major forms of payment (including contactless, because we're not savages), and - in a move that will delight many - welcome dogs. Yes, your four-legged friend can join you while you demolish that roast, though I'd advise against sharing those perfectly crispy potatoes, no matter how soulfully they beg.

Look, I didn't want to like The Castle. I walked in with a notebook full of pre-written snark and a healthy skepticism about yet another London pub claiming to offer something special. But here I am, recommending that you book a table (especially for Sunday lunch - seriously, don't just show up hoping for the best). It's the kind of place that reminds you why pubs became the cornerstone of British social life in the first place. And while I maintain my professional cynicism about most things, I'll begrudgingly admit that The Castle in London has earned its place in the city's competitive pub landscape. Just don't expect me to be happy about having to revise my pre-written criticism.