The Distillers, Hammersmith

Just what London needs - another pub in Hammersmith claiming to be something special. The Distillers sits there on King Street, wearing its gastropub aspirations like a slightly ill-fitting suit. I'll admit, I walked in with my critic's quill sharpened, ready to skewer yet another mediocre attempt at elevating the humble boozer. But damn them for making it difficult to maintain my professional cynicism.

First, let's address the elephant in the room - yes, The Distillers Hammersmith is one of those pubs that thinks showing sports on big screens somehow doesn't compromise its attempts at culinary credibility. Usually, I'd roll my eyes so hard they'd get stuck, but here's the thing: they've somehow managed to create distinct spaces that don't feel like they're at war with each other. The upstairs area, with its proper stage and surprisingly comfortable seating, exists in its own universe, blissfully separated from the football-watching masses below.

The food, priced in that sweet spot between "suspiciously cheap" and "who do they think they are?", actually delivers. Their chicken wings - and I can't believe I'm saying this - manage to avoid the cardinal sin of being simultaneously greasy and dry. The fish and chips (because of course I had to try the pub classic) arrives without the usual pool of oil that makes you question your life choices. Even their cheeseburger, that ubiquitous pub staple, shows signs of actual thought and execution rather than just being thrown together by a chef who's given up on life.

What's particularly irritating is how they've managed to nail the atmosphere. The space should feel schizophrenic - sports bar meets music venue meets gastropub - but it works with an effortlessness that's frankly annoying to someone who makes a living finding fault. The staff, who I fully expected to be as confused as the venue's identity, display an surprising competence that extends beyond just knowing how to pull a pint.

Their events calendar is almost offensively robust. From F1 watch parties (complete with actually entertaining hosts and prizes) to 'Acoustify Wednesday' open mic nights, they've created genuine reasons to visit beyond the usual "well, it's close and we're thirsty." The upright piano available for performers is a particularly nice touch, though I'm contractually obligated to maintain some skepticism about the quality of open mic nights.

The drinks selection deserves mention, if only because they've managed to strike a balance between craft beer pretension and "we've got whatever's cheapest." Their cocktail game is surprisingly strong - the spicy margarita could actually wake the dead, or at least the typical Hammersmith office worker. They've even managed to assemble a wine list that doesn't immediately insult your intelligence.

Dog-friendly, group-friendly, and surprisingly wallet-friendly (for London), The Distillers has committed the cardinal sin of being genuinely difficult to criticize. Yes, their 9 PM kitchen cutoff is about as flexible as a brick wall, and you might occasionally find yourself in an impromptu game of musical chairs during big sporting events, but these feel like quibbles rather than damning indictments.

Look, I didn't want to like The Distillers Hammersmith. It goes against everything I stand for as a professional cynic. But if you're in West London and looking for a pub that somehow manages to be all things to all people without completely mucking it up, you might as well give it a shot. Just don't blame me when you find yourself becoming a regular, watching F1 races with surprising enthusiasm or, God forbid, signing up for an open mic slot. And no, I absolutely haven't done either of those things. Much.