The Faber Fox

Just what Crystal Palace needed - another gastropub claiming to revolutionize the London drinking scene. The Faber Fox perches smugly on that hill like it owns the place, flaunting its panoramic views of the city skyline as if a decent vista could compensate for mediocrity. At least, that's what I thought before I reluctantly crossed its threshold.

Let's address the elephant in the room - those views really are spectacular. The Faber Fox in London has somehow managed to capitalize on its geographic good fortune without becoming insufferably pretentious about it. It's like that annoyingly photogenic friend who turns out to be genuinely nice, much to your chagrin.

The space itself strikes an impressive balance between traditional pub comfort and contemporary design, though I suspect they didn't have to try very hard - the building practically oozes character. High ceilings, original features, and windows that actually open (a miracle in modern London) create an atmosphere that feels both grand and oddly homey. It's frustratingly well-executed.

I arrived determined to find fault with their drinks selection, but the rotating craft beer lineup proved irritatingly comprehensive. The staff, curse them, actually know their stuff - able to guide you through the beer list without a hint of the condescension you'd expect from a place this stylish. Their wine list isn't trying to compete with Mayfair's finest, but it's thoughtfully curated and reasonably priced. The cocktails? Competent, which is more than you can say for most pubs attempting to play mixologist.

The food menu had me rolling my eyes initially - another pub thinking it can elevate British classics? Please. Yet here I am, begrudgingly admitting that their Sunday roast is worth queuing for (and queue you will). The pork belly achieves that mythical perfect crackling while keeping the meat tender, and their Yorkshire puddings have the audacity to rival my grandmother's. The roast potatoes are hit-or-miss, but when they hit, they hit hard - crispy exterior, fluffy inside, properly seasoned. It's practically textbook.

Their beer garden deserves special mention, if only because it manages to be both spacious and intimate - no small feat in London. The clever terracing means you don't feel like you're sitting in a glorified car park, and the planting provides actual atmosphere rather than just token greenery. They've even managed to make it dog-friendly without turning it into a canine chaos zone.

The service walks that fine line between attentive and overbearing. The staff seem genuinely pleased to be there, which is either excellent acting or good management - probably both. They handle the weekend crowds with remarkable efficiency, though you might wait a bit longer during peak Sunday roast hours. But honestly? It's worth it.

What really gets under my skin is how well they've read their audience. The sports screening setup is sophisticated enough for serious fans but doesn't dominate the space. They've made the place family-friendly without sacrificing its grown-up appeal. Even the music strikes the right balance - ambient enough for conversation but carefully curated to maintain the atmosphere.

For Crystal Palace locals, The Faber Fox has become something of an institution, and I hate that I understand why. It's the kind of place you can drop into for a quick pint and end up staying for dinner, or book for a special occasion without feeling like you're trying too hard. The fact that they take reservations puts them ahead of half the pubs in London already.

Look, I wanted to dismiss The Faber Fox as just another London pub jumping on the gastropub bandwagon. Instead, I'm forced to acknowledge it as what might be the perfect neighborhood pub that just happens to have one of the best views in London. If you must visit (and apparently, you must), go for a Sunday roast, grab a window seat or a spot in the garden, and prepare to join the ranks of the reluctantly converted. Just don't blame me when it becomes your new local - I tried to resist too.