The Drayton Arms

Just what London needs - another pub masquerading as a gastropub in Earl's Court. The Drayton Arms caught my attention primarily because I couldn't find a reason to actively dislike it, which, in this city's saturated pub scene, is practically a glowing endorsement.

Let's address the elephant in the room: it's housed in one of those Victorian-era buildings that London seems to mass-produce, complete with the requisite ornate facade and just enough architectural gravitas to make tourists whip out their phones. But unlike many of its peers who coast on historical charm while serving microwaved shepherd's pie, The Drayton Arms actually seems to give a damn.

I arrived determined to find fault, armed with years of disappointment from similar establishments. The first crack in my armor came from the bar staff who, despite my best efforts to provoke them with detailed questions about their beer selection, remained unfailingly knowledgeable and patient. It's almost annoying how genuine their enthusiasm is.

The pub's interior walks that precarious line between "thoughtfully preserved" and "actually maintained." The wood paneling hasn't been polished to within an inch of its life, and the brass fixtures have developed a patina that speaks of authenticity rather than neglect. It's as if someone actually understood the difference between "vintage" and "desperately needs renovation."

Their rotating selection of real ales would impress even the most curmudgeonly CAMRA member, and the wine list, while not encyclopedic, shows more thought than the usual "red or white" offering that plagues lesser establishments. The prices won't make you choke on your pint - they're firmly in the "reasonable for London" category, which is to say merely expensive rather than daylight robbery.

But it's the food that truly forced me to abandon my professional cynicism. The charcuterie board, while steadfastly refusing to include cheese (a bold choice that somehow works), features properly cured meats that haven't just been rescued from a supermarket deli counter. The Sunday roast - that litmus test of pub competency - arrives with Yorkshire puddings that actually rise and vegetables that haven't been boiled into submission.

The real surprise lurks upstairs - a tiny theatre space that hosts everything from experimental plays to comedy nights. It's the kind of cultural addition that could easily feel pretentious but somehow doesn't, probably because they don't bang on about it like it's the Royal Court.

The outdoor seating area, while not exactly the Gardens of Versailles, provides a decent spot for people-watching and is mercifully free of the aggressive pigeons that seem to have claimed much of London's al fresco dining scene. They're dog-friendly too, which means you'll occasionally share space with four-legged patrons who are generally better behaved than their two-legged companions.

Service manages to hit that sweet spot between attentive and overbearing, though during peak hours you might need to deploy subtle British signing techniques (raised eyebrows, meaningful glances at your empty glass) to get attention. They accept all major forms of payment, which shouldn't be noteworthy in 2025 but somehow still is in London's pub scene.

Here's the truly irritating part - The Drayton Arms actually makes good on the promise of what a modern London pub should be. It honors its heritage without becoming a museum piece, serves proper food without pretension, and maintains a genuine community vibe in a city where that's increasingly rare.

So fine, you win, Drayton Arms. You've earned your place in London's pub landscape, and I'm begrudgingly adding you to my list of recommended spots. If you find yourself in Earl's Court with a thirst for something more than just another anonymous boozer, you could do far worse than stopping here. Just don't all rush at once - some of us locals need somewhere reliable to drink.