The Crown & Sceptre

Just what London needs - another Victorian-era pub claiming to be the city's hidden gem. The Crown & Sceptre, perched on the corner of Great Titchfield Street like some architectural holdover from a Dickens novel, initially struck me as yet another mediocre watering hole trading on its historical charm. But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my cynical heart.

Let's address the elephant in the room: The Crown & Sceptre in London's Fitzrovia district is, yes, one of those establishments that makes you navigate treacherously steep stairs to reach the loo - a detail that would normally send me running for the hills (or at least to the Pret across the street). Yet here I am, writing what's about to become an embarrassingly positive review.

The interior hits that sweet spot between preserved Victorian grandeur and actually being clean enough to eat in. Dark wood paneling that's witnessed decades of conversations lines the walls, while the bar gleams with a selection of taps that would make a craft beer enthusiast weep into their artisanal beard oil. The pub manages to feel simultaneously ancient and well-maintained, like your favorite history professor who still rocks a sharp wardrobe.

Speaking of the beer selection - and I can't believe I'm saying this - it's actually impressive. While many London pubs seem content to offer the same tired handful of mass-market lagers, The Crown & Sceptre's rotating selection suggests someone behind the bar actually gives a damn. Yes, you'll find your Doom Bar for the traditionalists, but there's always something interesting on tap for those of us who've evolved beyond basic bitter.

The food menu isn't trying to reinvent the wheel, and thank heaven for that. We've all suffered through enough gastropub "interpretations" of classic British fare to last several lifetimes. Instead, they've focused on doing the basics properly - their Sunday roast (when they haven't run out, which happens with irritating frequency) is the kind of meal that makes you forgive the fact that you're paying Zone 1 prices for pub grub.

The staff, surprisingly, don't seem to have received the memo that London service should be consistently underwhelming. They're actually... pleasant? Efficient, even? It's almost unsettling how genuine their enthusiasm appears, especially when recommending dishes or helping you navigate the beer selection. I've visited multiple times, hoping to catch them having an off day, but they maintain this bizarre commitment to competence.

What truly sets The Crown & Sceptre apart from London's sea of mediocre pubs is its ability to balance being a proper local with welcoming newcomers. The regular crowd doesn't give you the death stare when you walk in (I'm looking at you, every other pub in W1), and you can actually find a table most evenings without having to execute a complex tactical operation.

Let's talk about the "dog-friendly" policy, because apparently that's something we have to care about now. Yes, you can bring your four-legged friend, and no, it hasn't devolved into a canine chaos zone. The management has somehow achieved the impossible: maintaining a pub where both dog people and the dog-averse can coexist peacefully. It's like Switzerland, but with better beer.

Fair warning: prices are exactly what you'd expect for a decent Central London pub - which is to say, they'll make you wince if you're from literally anywhere else in the country. But in the grand scheme of London robbery, it's actually reasonable for what you're getting. The food is properly portioned, the drinks aren't served in those infuriating short-measure glasses, and the quality consistently justifies the cost.

Look, I didn't want to like The Crown & Sceptre. London has enough "charming traditional pubs" to sink a small navy. But if you're in Fitzrovia and in need of a proper drink, good food, or just a place to restore your faith in London's pub culture, you could do far worse. And believe me, I've tried. Make a booking if you're planning on Sunday lunch - it's popular for a reason, and I'm irritated to admit they've earned it.