The Duchy Arms

Just what London needs - another gastropub masquerading as a proper local boozer. The Duchy Arms in London's Kennington had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed the threshold. You know the type: exposed brick walls, craft beer pretensions, and a "garden" that's really just some picnic tables crammed onto a patch of concrete. But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my reluctantly expanding heart.

Let's address the elephant in the room - The Duchy Arms is doing that increasingly rare thing of actually being a proper pub that happens to serve good food, rather than a restaurant awkwardly cosplaying as a pub. The difference is subtle but crucial, like the distinction between actual vintage furniture and mass-produced "distressed" pieces from some soulless warehouse.

The beer garden deserves special mention, if only because it manages to be genuinely pleasant rather than the usual London afterthought of three wobbly tables next to the bins. It's actually spacious enough to accommodate more than just the smokers' club, and they've managed to create something that feels like a legitimate escape from the city's relentless concrete embrace.

Inside, the place strikes that elusive balance between preserved character and necessary updates. Yes, there's a pool table, but it's not surrounded by the usual gathering of permanently installed regulars giving you the evil eye for daring to consider a game. The bar staff actually acknowledge your existence within the first five minutes - a miracle by London standards - and seem to genuinely know their stuff about what they're serving.

Now, about that food. I approached their smoker-focused menu with the kind of skepticism usually reserved for politicians' promises, but found myself eating my words along with some genuinely impressive dishes. The mussels marinière (which have no business being this good in a pub) arrive in a sauce that demands to be mopped up with their surprisingly decent bread. Their smoked meats would make a Kansas City pit master raise an approving eyebrow, and even the vegetable sides show actual thought and care rather than appearing to be an apologetic afterthought.

The pricing sits in that sweet spot where you're paying more than your local boozer but less than those trendy spots where they serve chips in miniature shopping trolleys. You can actually have a proper meal with a couple of drinks without having to remortgage your house, which in London feels like a minor miracle.

What really sets The Duchy Arms apart from London's endless parade of pub-restaurant hybrids is its ability to serve multiple masters. During the day, it's a legitimate spot for a working lunch that won't put you to sleep at your desk. Come evening, it transforms into a proper pub where you can actually hear yourself think while enjoying a pint of something interesting. Weekend brunches somehow manage to avoid the usual chaos of screaming children and passive-aggressive queue management.

The quiz night deserves special mention, if only because it's one of the few in London where the questions extend beyond football trivia and EastEnders plotlines. Although I'm contractually obligated as a critic to complain about something, so I'll note that their pickle plate is indeed overpriced for what you get. There, duty fulfilled.

For those keeping score at home, The Duchy Arms ticks all the essential boxes: decent food, proper drinks, actual atmosphere, and staff who seem to have been selected for personality rather than their ability to maintain a permanently aloof expression. It's walking distance from Oval station, which means you can pretend you're being healthy by walking off whatever you've consumed.

Look, I didn't want to like The Duchy Arms. I really didn't. London has enough gastropubs claiming to reinvent the wheel while serving mediocre food at aspirational prices. But this place has managed to do something rather special - it's created a space that actually works for both serious dining and casual drinking, for both local regulars and curious visitors. Go ahead, book a table. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.