The Crown

Just what London needs - another "atmospheric" pub with "craft" beers and "gourmet" burgers. The Crown lounges smugly near Victoria Park, probably thinking it's terribly clever with its lovingly restored features and dog-friendly policy. I approached with the enthusiasm of a tax audit, fully prepared to add it to my mental list of mediocre gastropubs masquerading as destination venues.

But damn it all if The Crown didn't start working its irritatingly effective charm on me within minutes of crossing the threshold. The preserved Victorian details aren't just for show - they've managed to maintain that elusive balance between historical gravitas and actually being somewhere you'd want to spend an evening. The upstairs balcony, which I fully expected to be a wannabe Instagram trap, turns out to be one of London's more civilized spots for a pint and a bite.

Speaking of which, let's address the elephant in the room - or rather, the smash burger that's been generating an unreasonable amount of buzz. I've endured countless "best burger in London" claims, each more hyperbolic than the last. But this one... well, it's infuriating how good it actually is. The patty achieves that mythical level of crust while remaining indecently juicy inside. I found myself making involuntary sounds of appreciation that I'll deny if ever questioned about them in public.

The Sunday roast situation requires careful navigation. When they're on form, it's magnificent - the pork belly achieves that holy trinity of crackling crunch, yielding meat, and melting fat. However, the beef can be hit or miss, occasionally arriving with the sort of rare-to-raw ratio that makes one question if the cook has confused "medium-rare" with "barely introduced to heat."

Their drinks program deserves mention, if only because they've managed to curate a selection that satisfies both the craft beer zealots and those of us who occasionally just want a properly kept pint of something familiar. The wine list won't win awards, but it's perfectly serviceable for a pub of this caliber, and the cocktails show more finesse than strictly necessary.

The space works harder than it needs to. Ground floor seating has that coveted "proper pub" feel, while the upstairs dining room manages to feel special without tipping into pretension. They've even made the dog-friendly policy work without turning the place into an impromptu canine social club. Board games are available, though watching tipsy patrons attempt Jenga after a few rounds provides its own entertainment.

Service strikes that perfect London pub balance - attentive enough to keep your glass full but not so hovering that you feel watched. Though do clarify whether your table is full service or bar ordering - there's nothing worse than sitting there like a lemon waiting for someone to take an order that you're supposed to place yourself.

Let's talk money, because that's really what we're all wondering about. Prices sit right where you'd expect for a decent London pub - not cheap enough to make you suspicious, not expensive enough to require a stern talk with your accountant. The burger's worth every penny, the Sunday roast represents fair value (when executed properly), and the drinks prices won't send you running to the cash point mid-evening.

The Crown has nestled itself into that sweet spot that makes it both a legitimate local for the lucky residents nearby and a genuine destination for those willing to make the trek. Victoria Park locals probably wish I hadn't written this, but the secret's rather out already - book ahead for Sunday lunch unless you enjoy disappointment with your pre-roast pint.

Fine. I admit it. The Crown in London has earned its reputation. Go there, eat the burger, enjoy the space, and if you manage to snag that balcony spot on a sunny day, you might just forget you're a hardened London cynic for a few blessed hours. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.